Sylvester Collins was not a Sherlock Holmes or anything like it, but after a successful career at the Bar, at a time when all his many friends had expected him to ‘take silk,’ he had suddenly thrown up his whole career, and started as an Inquiry Agent and Amateur Detective, though he hated the expression, and always claimed that he was merely trying to use his experience at the Bar in a practical way.
However, he had been phenomenally successful, perhaps through luck, perhaps through a keen, trained brain and good common sense.
If his friends wanted to upset him, they would call him Sherlock Holmes, which was like a red rag to a bull to him.
He worked excellently with the official force, and had been “briefed” by them on many occasions, with the happiest results to all except the criminals who had been run to earth.
A clean-cut face with a large nose, and a firm mouth, were his chief characteristics. Soft brown eyes, and curly hair almost black, gave his face a curiously paradoxical expression.
When not engaged professionally, he was a keen sportsman, and enjoyed life to the full.
He was entirely devoid of ‘side’ or ‘swank.’
Sinclair was a very different type. He was more like the Scotland Yard officer of real life than of fiction. After successful work in India, he had applied for and obtained his post. He had just a detective’s training and education. He made no pretensions to be other than a trained official with no particular brilliance, and he was glad to have the help of his friend, who had brains and not his experience.
Collins always came to Sinclair without ceremony.
He entered smoking a cigarette, and placed his hat and stick on the table.