It's not a wavy line.
It's not a blank space.
It's a glaring "X" that represents failure.
The conference room instantly fell into a deathly silence.
Chief Inspector Turner's expression looked as if someone had hit him on the back of the head with a club: "This can't be... this... this can't be..."
Brenan looked like he had seen a ghost too: "Clearly, Allen performed the best... Sir... did you mistake the X and put it in the wrong place?"
No one could provide an answer.
Even more, no one wanted to agree with Brenan's viewpoint.
Because in the Scotland Yard system, every officer knows: if Sir Arthur Hastings gave someone an X, it's not an exam issue but a matter of fate.
…
The carriage moved slowly along the streets of London after sunset.
The evening glow was like a thin layer of gold dust sprinkled on the rooftops, and the afterglow that passed beyond the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral was framed into a still picture by the carriage window.
