The men (and monsters) turned to stare at me. I could see the great brutes of aliens turning orange and green with interest. I had learned that they often swelled and changed color when intrigued or alarmed. "Cheero," I said vacuously. "What's up?" One of the group, a portly constable with a red face, eyed me dourly and said, "Stranger 'ereabouts, sir?" "I'm on a walking tour," said I. "Just spent a night in Birming'm. Saw you chaps in a rum sweat over something, thought I'd have a dekko. Dashed sleek-lookin' car, what?" "Ar," said the constable, observing my boots. They were stout and old, the very thing for a walking tour. "You know anything about motors, sir?" "Me? Lord, no," said I. I then giggled, which pained him visibly. "I wouldn't touch one. Cousin owned one, name of Algy; cousin, you know, not the car. Turned over in a treacherous manner and simply squashed him like a bloomin' bug. What's up with this one?" * * * * * The monsters were scrutinizing me intently. I told myself that I needn't be afraid of their inspection: in addition to my quite ordinary features, which could scarcely have been described in much detail by their compatriot who had seen me, I was at the moment wearing the shell-rimmed spectacles which I ordinarily used only for reading, being far-sighted as an eagle. I had put them on a few moments before, just in case. An alien said, leaning his human form toward me, "We think it may be the Manchester Slasher's." If he thought to startle me into betraying myself, he was disappointed. I fluttered my hands and bleated. "Gad! Not that murderer chappie? The one who killed about ninety people up north?" "Twenty, sir." The alien appeared to relax. "Yes, it fits the description, all right." He turned to another. "Tom, you'd best go and telegraph Manchester. Sam, you go with him and bring back another couple o' boys. We'll just lay us a trap." I walked all about the Jaguar, prodding her bonnet and peering at the dashboard gingerly. "Deuced mysterious affairs, motors," I said. "Don't see how anyone can tell what gadget to push next." "We're a-going to lay an ambush for this 'ere Slasher, sir, if you don't mind," said one of them. "Hear, hear," I said. "Chop the blighter, what? Pip him in the early counties, right?" "There's liable to be trouble, sir," insinuated another. "Rather," I yammered. "Oh, rather." "We'd like to get ready now, _if_ you please, sir." "Oh, absolutely. Carry on. Lay a snare for the wretched person, lads," said I heartily. "You'd better leave now, sir," said the constable firmly. "Before there's trouble, you know. Wouldn't want to get hurt." "Heavens, no," said I. "I say, officer, could I just sit in that seat a mo'? Give one something to boast of, what?" "No, sir. There may be fingerprints in the thing." * * * * *