Publisher's Synopsis
WHEN Dick Staines left the University of Cambridge, he was confronted with several alternatives, all more or less unalluring. On the strength of his Honours degree in science he might have taken a mastership at a preparatory school; alternatively, he could have gone into a great motor works for three years at a salary of thirty shillings a week, with no sure prospect at the end of his apprenticeship; or he could have been appointed to a commission in His Majesty's army, where he would have received sufficient pay and allowances to discharge his monthly mess bill; or, had he had influence, he might have entered that branch of the Civil Service whence one starts forth on a diplomatic career.He had no influence, he had no money, except the rags of a thousand-pound legacy which had taken him through Cambridge. He returned one night to the furnished room in Gower Street which he had taken on his arrival in London and set out before him the four definite offers he had received. He had discovered that even a mastership at a preparatory school was not a post easy to secure. The final offer of a motor car company he tore up and threw into the fire. From his pocket he took a printed blank, and this he filled up with some care and posted. Three days later he was invited to make a call at Scotland Yard, and within six months Mr. Richard Staines, Bachelor of Arts (Camb.) was patrolling the Finchley Road in the uniform of the Metropolitan Constabulary.
