"Certainly, Sir," said the Inspector in charge. "Your name and address?"
I opened my cigarette-case and placed a card on the desk.
"The name of the house is pronounced Song Soocee," I said, "not, as spelt, Sans Souci."
The Inspector handed me back the card. It was a cigarette-picture representing the proper method of bandaging a displaced knee-cap. I rectified the error, and he entered the information in a book.
"I must ask if you are a British subject?" he inquired.
"You might almost describe me as super-British," I replied. "There is a tradition in my family that my ancestors were on Hastings Pier when the Conqueror arrived."
"Thank you. That will be all."
"You don't want me to give references, one of which must be a clergyman or a J.P.? You don't require me to state previous experience, if any, or any details of that sort?"
"Oh, no," he answered. "That'll be all right. You are no doubt familiar with squad drill?"
"Splendid! I had no idea it was used in the Force."