All were within the remit, and the clever mind, of Vagabond Martineau.
His hotel room was a converted attic space that was both warm and homely and it would make a perfect base for as long as he was here. He set his case down on the double bed and carefully removed his small selection of clothes to be hung up in the wardrobe – a second suit, several shirts, a pair of slacks and a couple of roll-neck sweaters.
Then, from the secret compartment in his case, accessed by a sideways click of the clasp, he removed the copies of the confidential files that he had brought with him from London. The files were slim and contained only the pertinent information for what he needed about his investigation. If he needed anything of greater detail, well, he would have to battle with the registry departm
