CHAPTER 3Mr Stephen Sanderson had had a bulky letter by the American mail and had sat up half the night writing, taking notes and comparing the new data he had received from Frank Cameron’s friend with the voluminous matter he had already classified and tabulated.
It was a long work, but it was a labour of love for Stephen Sanderson. It meant the careful reading of thousands of newspaper extracts dealing with the wave of crime which had swept over England and France that year. It meant the comparison of methods thus recorded, with those which had been supplied him by the report which had come from New York. He had worked until the daylight filtered greyly through the curtained window with a dozen portraits of men and women outspread on the table before him. He was piecing together with am
