ag and hurried stealthily to the door of No. 23.
All was quiet, and the door opened at once to Dorrington's picklock, for there was nothing but the common tumbler rim-lock to secure it. Dorrington, being altogether an unscrupulous scoundrel, would have thought nothing of entering a man's room thus for purposes of mere robbery. Much less scruple had he in doing so in the present circumstances. He lit the candle in a little pocket lantern, and, having secured the door, looked quickly about the room. There was nothing unusual to attract his attention, and he turned to two bags lying near the dressing-table. One was the usual bookmaker's satchel, and the other was a leather travelling-bag; both were locked. Dorrington unbuckled the straps of the large bag and produced a slender picklock of steel wire, with a sliding joint, which, with a little skilful "humouring", turned the lock in the course of a minute or two. One glance inside was enough. There on the top lay a large false beard of strong red, and upon
I enjoy old-time mysteries but sadly, well-written ones are few and far between. I've had to delete a lot of them after the first few chapters. Not Morrison though. His stories are little gems. This one is about Dorrington, his unethical investigator. Normally I don't enjoy this type of protagonist, but I make an exception for Dorrington.
Also try some of Morrison's Martin Hewitt stories - they are excellent also.