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always understood history was about facts, but then I haven’t had your advantages.’
    Amiss winced. Another fucker with an inferiority complex.
    Lorre maintained the initiative. ‘Let us approach this from another angle. Did you form any opinion as to who was responsible for these outrages?’
    ‘The PD ones? Here in the office?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He couldn’t pretend ignorance here. Any imbecile, even a university graduate, couldn’t have avoided guessing what everyone else knew. ‘I wasn’t sure, but I thought it was probably Tiny Short.’
    ‘Did you take the matter up with him?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Or with your superior officer?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘I didn’t want to cause ill-will among my staff. I was unpopular enough as it was. Anyway, I didn’t really mind the jokes. They were all pretty harmless.’
    ‘And why were you unpopular, Mr Amiss?’
    Amiss was beginning to feel cross. ‘Because they had all your affection for people with more advantages than themselves.’
    ‘There’s no need to get nasty, Mr Amiss.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just fed up with questions I don’t see the point of.’
    ‘You’ll see the point all in good time,’ said Lorre. ‘We have established that you failed to act as a responsible manager and put an end to all this carry-on.’
    ‘It is certainly possible to see it that way.’
    ‘So you did nothing at all about it?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Why are you lying to us, Mr Amiss?’ asked Greenstreet conversationally. ‘We know about the obscene publication you sent Mr Short.’
    Oh, no . How could he have forgotten about that? And how the hell had they found out he did it? They must have traced his cheque.
    He looked at them wearily. ‘You’re not going to believe this, but I really didn’t remember it.’
    ‘You’re quite right,’ crowed Lorre. ‘We’re not going to believe it.’
    ‘When you asked for a list, I was concentrating on the ones that were played on me. I completely forgot the only one I’d played myself.’
    He could see they weren’t impressed. ‘Look. It was months ago and I was drunk at the time.’
    Greenstreet looked shocked.
    ‘Well, not exactly drunk, but pretty high. I spent a boozy evening with a friend and was telling him about the practical jokes. He showed me an advertisement for a publication called Guys Only . It seemed funny at the time to order a copy to be sent to Tiny at the office. I never heard that it arrived and it went right out of my mind.’
    ‘Why did it seem funny to send obscene material through the mails?’
    ‘It wasn’t obscene. It was a catalogue of pouffy underwear. Tiny is aggressively heterosexual.’
    ‘We have different ideas about humour,’ said Lorre.
    ‘Christ, we’re not here to discover if we share a bloody sense of humour, are we? You haven’t mentioned Twillerton yet. I thought that was what you were supposed to be investigating.’
    ‘Would you kindly remain here for a moment while Mr Cook and I consult in the corridor?’
    Amiss recovered his temper while they were out. After all, they couldn’t help being a pair of bloody idiots landed with a job beyond their slender intellectual resources. He even managed a conciliatory smile as they re-entered and resumed their chairs.
    ‘Let us explain to you, Mr Amiss,’ said Lorre, ‘why we have given so much attention to recent events in PD. For reasons that won’t concern you, we have been able to rule out as suspects the entire staff at Twillerton and all the technicians.’
    ‘So it’s down to PD.’
    ‘PD and Mr Charles Collins.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘You’ll recall the sneezing powder in the breakfast sugar. Because of the short period in which the dining room was unlocked in the evening after the tables had been laid, we have been able to eliminate those PD personnel who have consistent alibis for the period 9:00-10:00. We are left with seven names: Mr Collins, Messrs Underhill and Sloan from PD1, and, from PD2, Messrs Farson,