Thus reinforced, I ordered the car and drove to Whitechapel. At the end of a street, whose gutters were full of vegetable garbage I stopped, and, descending, beckoned imperiously to an adjacent policeman. "On duty for the Food Controller, constable," I said. "Take me to the nearest greengrocer, please." He saluted respectfully and led the way to where a long queue, armed with a varied assortment of baskets and bags, waited impatiently and clamoured. A hush fell on our approach. Two more policemen who now appeared on the scene constituted themselves my retinue. Through a lane opened in the throng I made a stately entrance, Mrs. Marrow and the police bringing up the rear. I was confronted by a large flabby individual, who grasped a cabbage in one hand and a number of mangel-wurzels in the other. "Good morning, Sir," I remarked courteously but firmly. "You are the proprietor of this shop, I presume?" His reply left no room for doubt. "I am the A.T.," I said impressively, indicating the red brassard of office presented to me by the Food Controller. "In case you do not know what that means, I am the Appropriator of Tubers. A tuber, Sir, is a potato. Now it has been brought to the notice of my chief, the Food Controller, that certain vendors of vegetables are seeking to defraud the public by selling as potatoes a totally different kind of vegetable disguised with colouring matter and rubbed with earth." I paused to allow this weighty announcement to sink in. My audience gaped. I continued-- "Acting on orders received from the Controller I am making a series of surprise inspections with a view to discovering the guilty parties, who will be proceeded against under section A, subsection 2, paragraph 1,769 of Part III. of King's Reg's.--I mean, the Defence of the Realm Act. I particularly wish you to understand," I went on ruthlessly, nipping an indignant protest in the bud, "that I do not for a moment allege, suggest or insinuate that you specifically are one of these potato-swindlers; nevertheless I have my duty to do, and I must ask you here and now to lay out your entire stock for inspection." The flabby individual wiped his forehead and signed to a trembling assistant. "Get 'em art," he said. "Fer Gawd's sake, get 'em art!" Six bushel baskets of the precious vegetables were brought and laid in a row at my feet. "Perhaps, Madam," I said, turning to Mrs. Marrow, "you will be so kind as to inspect these--ah, tubers. Mrs. Marrow," I explained to the greengrocer, "the famous tuber expert." In silence Mrs. Marrow began to overhaul the contents of the baskets, every now and then picking out a particularly choice specimen, which she added to an accumulating pile on the floor.