At Grips With The Underworld
A less promising crib to crack than No. 99 Gower Street It would be hard to imagine, but perhaps the burglars who entered the offices of the Spectator over Christmas were misled by the lofty and cultivated tone of our periodical into supposing that the staff work surrounded by priceless tapestries, Ming vases and other desirable swag. The nearest thing to an objet d'art on the premises is a stuffed owl presented to us by Dr. Edith Sitwell nearly a quarter of a century ago. The intruders, nevertheless, found, opened and removed the contents (which may have included cheques and postal orders) of a number of letters; so will any reader who wrote to us very shortly before Christmas and has not received an acknowledge- ment take appropriate action ? The burglars left behind them a tweed overcoat with a bottle of scent in one pocket. We rather expected that the police would rush this interesting clue to the Scotland Yard laboratories, but they showed no interest In it at all and it has been put in a dustbin.
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