A detective-sergeant accompanied by a photographer and a finger-print expert arrived from Perth. They remained two weeks. Thereafter, Sub-Inspector Walters continued with his administrative duties, and the murderer continued to stroll about Broome in the cool of the evening.

At four o’clock on the afternoon of June 25th, Inspector Walters sat before a typewriter in the station office, grimly determined to write a private letter in official time. He was two inchesunder six feet, lean and tough. His greying hair was stiff, and authority gleamed in his dark eyes and was stamped on his thin-lipped mouth.

The envelope he rolled into the machine was addressed to: “Mr. Sylvester Rose, Headmaster, Cave Hill College, Broome.” The letter which followed the envelope ran thus:

Dear Sir.

Reference my son Keith Walters. I have regretfully to draw your attention to what appears to be a conspiracy among a section of your boys to which my son belongs. I am aware that in these modern times handwriting is considered of small importance and that spelling is an art no longer necessary to be cultivated. You will, I am sure, agree with me that sound pronunciation of our language must be, with force if necessary, inculcated in the rising generation, that English shall not deteriorate to thegibberings of baboons.

I have repeatedly heard my son pronounce the word “just” as “jist”; for “I am going to” or “he is going to”, he persists in saying “I’m gunner” or “he’s gunner”. Vocal reprimand being unavailing to correct this fault, I have administered corporal punishment… still without result. Cross-examination has elicited the fact that a number of your boys in collaboration deliberately invent these horrible distortions which, when practised, become permanent in their speech.