That had no doubt been taken by his murderer.
But as I looked up from my task I saw that some drawers had been pulled out in the writing-table.

Scudder would never have left them in that state, for he was the tidiest of mortals.

Someone must have been searching for something--perhaps for the pocket-book.
I went round the flat and found that everything had been ransacked--the inside of books, drawers, cupboards, boxes, even the pockets of the clothes in my wardrobe, and the sideboard in the dining-room.

There was no trace of the book.

Most likely the enemy had found it, but they had not found it on Scudder's body.
Then I got out an atlas and looked at a big map of the British Isles.
My notion was to get off to some wild district, where my veldcraft would be of some use to me, for I would be like a trapped rat in a city.