25
Paul-Henri had been keeping an eye out for Malcolm Barstow for days. Finally, just as he was rounding the corner on his way back to the gendarmerie Friday night, he saw the boy leaning against a stone wall smoking a cigarette.
“Aha!” Paul-Henri said under his breath, hurrying over. “Young man!”
Malcolm looked over at the officer lazily. “Oui? What’s got your knickers in a tangle?” He sucked on the cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke.
“You see the pictures on the packet,” said Paul-Henri. “Black lungs, people suffering. Why would you take up such a disgusting habit, especially when you can’t spare the money?”
“A friend gave them to me,” said Malcolm. “None of your business what I do anyway.”
“It is when you are breaking the law, Malcolm. How old are you?”
Malcolm blinked. He’d
