He lit another cigarette and groaned. This was a hell of a life, he decided, for a guy who likes his sleep. Purvis, the old goat, would expect him to take over day duty by eleven o’clock. At this rate he wouldn’t get more than eight hours sleep, and he needed ten to feel anything like normal.
Every now and then he caught sight of Baird’s shadow as he crossed the blind. He was up to something, moving backwards and forwards like that. He didn’t give the impression of a man preparing for bed.
Again Burns leaned out of the window to see the time: one twenty-five! He yawned again, threatening to dislocate his jaw.
A patrolman came slowly along the sidewalk, gently whacking the side of his leg with his night-stick.
He looked over at Burns, sitting in the car, paused, then came across the street and stopped beside the car.
‘Waiting for someone?’ he asked, eyeing Burns suspiciously.
‘For the end of the world,’ Burns said sarcastical y. ‘Haven’t you heard? You and me and all the rest of the lousy bunch will come to an end in half an hour. If you want proof, my tea leaves told me, and they’re never wrong.’
The cop rested his foot on the running-board. The situation seemed to him to have possibilities.
‘Been drinking?’ he asked hopeful y.
‘Look, I’m busy,’ Burns said. ‘Go away and catch a burglar. Do anything, but don’t bother me.’