IX
T
he
following day I went to the Police Station in Darlaston and asked to see the Inspector. He came out to me from his office, buttoning up his tunic, a red-faced man in his early fifties, inordinately vain of his bushy side-whiskers which he stroked and curled all the time I was addressing him. His breath was heavy with the scent of spirits and as he smiled at me I felt that I could not trust this man as I had done his predecessor, who had known our family for years.
I told him the story of the prowlers round my house and asked whether he would have a man keep a watch on the place in future. But he only smiled and held his head on one side, twisting away at his whiskers until I could have struck him, such was my irritation. I repeated my request, speaking slowly as though to a sma
