The commissionaire stood stolidly in his place, raising every now and then his cab whistle to his lips.

A flickering sunlight fell upon the wind-shaken lilac trees in the square enclosure.

Inspector Jacks found himself wishing that the perfume of those lilacs might reach even to where he stood, and help him to forget for a moment that subtler and to him curiously unpleasant odor which all the time became more and more apparent.

So overpowering did he feel it that he tried even to open the window, but found it an impossible task.

The atmosphere seemed to him to be becoming absolutely stifling.
He turned around and walked uneasily toward the door.