Ignorant

Feigning ignorance and with a blank stare, which is hardly distinguishable from their normal expressions, the other policemen start grinning in their sleep.

His equinamity undisturbed, our reporter carefully details all he knows of the accident.

"If you know all that, why ask us . . . you know more than we do," says the sergeant with an arch leer which is nothing but the grimace of a nitwit cracking a weak joke. A drowsy snigger escapes from bodies round the room.

"How did it happen—was he drunk—what time did it happen—how many were injured and how," says our reporter.

"Oh, I Couldn't tell you that," says the sergeant, casting a speculative glance round for a suitable recipient for the buck about to be passed. "I wasn't on duty. I didn't hear about it till I read about it in the paper."

His eye lights on a recumbent body fettered to a table leg with a piece of pink tape. "Constable O'Toole was on duty this morning—ask him."

Constable O'Toole titters "Ask Murray, I was having tea when it happened."

Constable Murray's relaxed look of stupidity slowly thickens to a look of triumphant cunning as his lightning brain thinks out the answer in advance: "Sergeant Wope reported on it. I was there but he made the report. Can't tell you anything."

"Can I see the report?" asks our man over-hopefully.

"What? He hasn't handed it in yet. It's in his locker and no one can see it till its exquisite detail and intricate composition are worked out."

"But the accident happened 11 hours ago. When does the Senior know what happened?"

"Probably a couple of days yet . . . might even be weeks," says Murray.

"Where's Denby, then?"