He got out of his car and came along.
"Say, d'ye know what speed you were doing way back there?" he asked casually with a kind of ten-percent.-solution smile.
"Well, I don't know exactly, but I guess I got you beat, anyway!" I chuckled.
Whereat he pulled a pocket-book from his coat and opened it. (Going to give me his card, thought I.)
"I'll trouble you for your number," quoth he, as he came to a page that was all nicely printed in columns ready for use.
From that moment I saw things in a different light. Verily the workings of the Law would seem to be getting interesting.
"And your licence, please?" after he had obligingly removed a layer of dust from my number-plate.
"What licence?"
"Your driving licence, of course. What y' think?"