The two policewomen returned in triumph to Bardsley Square Station where Inspector Murphy, who had sent them, was waiting for their report. Murphy was a jolly-looking, red-faced, black-moustached man who had a cheerful, fatherly way with women which was by no means justified by his age or virility. He sat behind his official table, his papers strewn in front of him. “Well, girls,” he said as the two women entered, “what luck?” “I think it’s a go, Mr. Murphy,” said the elder policewoman. “We have the evidence you want.” The Inspector took up a written list of questions from his desk. “You ran it on the general lines that I suggested?” he asked. “Yes. I said my husband was killed at Ypres.” “What did he do?” “Well, he seemed sorry for me.” “That, of course, is part of the game. He’ll be sorry for himself before he is through with it. He didn’t say, ‘You are a single woman and never had a husband?’” “No.” “Well, that’s one up against his spirits, is it not? That should impress the court. What more?” “He felt round for names. They were all wrong.” “Good!” “He believed me when I said that Miss Bellinger here was my daughter.” “Good again! Did you try the Pedro stunt?” “Yes, he considered the name, but I got nothing.” “Ah, that’s a pity. But, anyhow, he did not know that Pedro was your Alsatian dog. He considered the name. That’s good enough. Make the jury laugh and you have your verdict. Now about fortune-telling? Did you do what I suggested?” “Yes, I asked about Amy’s young man. He did not give much that was definite.” “Cunning devil! He knows his business.” “But he did say that she would be unhappy if she married him.” “Oh, he did, did he? Well, if we spread that a little we have got all we want. Now sit down and dictate your report while you have it fresh. Then we can go over it together and see how we can put it best. Amy must write one, also.” “Very good, Mr. Murphy.” “Then we shall apply for the warrant. You see, it all depends upon which magistrate it comes before. There was Mr. Dalleret who let a medium off last month. He is no use to us. And Mr. Lancing has been mixed up with these people. Mr. Melrose is a stiff materialist. We could depend on him and have timed the arrest accordingly. It would never do to fail to get our conviction.” “Couldn’t you get some of the public to corroborate?” The Inspector laughed. “We are supposed to be protecting the public, but between you and me none of the public have ever yet asked to be protected. There are no complaints. Therefore it is left to us to uphold the law as best we can. As long as it is there we have got to enforce it. Well, good-bye, girls! Let me have the report by four o’clock.” “Nothing for us, I suppose?” said the elder woman, with a smile. “You wait, my dear. If we get twenty-five pounds fine it has got to go somewhere--Police Fund, of course, but there may be something over. Anyhow, you go and cough it up and then we shall see.”