All Quiet

A skinny policeman draped round the telephone raises his left eyelid and drowsily murmurs "all quiet, Dominion."

Laying a clipping from the Post distastefully on the counter, reporter says "Fatalaccidentmankilledinmotorcaraccidentthismorningwhatdoyouknowaboutit?"

"What accident? Was there a man killed? Tell me about it," says the sergeant, tying a love knot of red tape round the third finger of his left hand.