A hand like a contractor's grab fell upon the fair man's shoulder. Instantly, as if its touch were anaesthetic, all life and energy seemed to drain from his limbs and the tense straining body went slack. 'Walkies,' said the burly man. At the foot of the stairs, an older grey-haired man with a lantern jaw was waiting. 'Well done, lad,' he said. 'Shall I cuff him, sir?' 'I doubt we'll need to go as far as that, though if he gives any more bother, you can mebbe box his ears.' The burly man laughed. The old jokes were best, especially when your boss made them. Outside, the sun was low in the sky but still warm. It cast long shadows from the three police cars standing on the white gravel beneath the terrace. In the rearmost car's shady interior the pale face of a woman could be seen, wedged between two WPCs. She looked straight ahead, showing no more animation than a death mask. The uniformed officers took charge of the fair man and led him down from the terrace into the second car.

He turned before he got in and looked back, not at the figures above him, but at the house itself, his gaze moving slowly along the whole facade. Then he let himself be pushed into the rear seat. On the terrace the man with the jaw spoke a few words to his burly subordinate before running lightly down the steps and getting into the leading car. He held his arm aloft through the open window, like a waggon master preparing his train. Then he let it drop forward, the cars began to crunch gravel, and at the same time their bells started to sound and their lights to flash. Smiling broadly, the burly man stood on the terrace till he could no longer see the flashing lights nor hear the sounding bells. Then he turned his back on the sun and slowly re-entered the house.

TWO

'You can bear a little more light?' 'I must bear it if you let it in.' Lights.