“Richpin has been at home every night, and all night long,” said Mr. Batchel.
“I’m talking about where he was, not where he says he was,” said the policeman. “You can’t go behind the evidence.”
“But Richpin has evidence too. I asked his wife.”
“You know, sir, and none better, that wives have got to obey. Richpin wants to be took for a ghost, and we know that sort of ghost. Whenever we hear there’s a ghost, we always know there’s going to be turkeys missing.”
“But there are real ghosts sometimes, surely?” said Mr. Batchel.
“No,” said the policeman, “me and my wife have both looked, and there’s no such thing.”
“Looked where?” enquired Mr. Batchel.
“In the ‘Police Duty’ Catechism. There’s lunatics, and deserters, and dead bodies, but no ghosts.”
Mr. Batchel accepted this as final. He had devised a way of ridding himself of all his company, and proceeded at once to carry it into effect. The two had by this time reached the group of boys.