“Ah, yes indeed,” and Jack sought something suitable.

And he would probably have found it also had not a key turned in the lock, the door opened and several burly though jolly and laughing policemen entered the cell and hauled him and Eddie from it.

Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis’s office was definitely “of the genre”. It had much of the look of Bill Winkie’s office about it, but being below ground level it lacked for windows. It didn’t lack for a desk, though, a big and crowded desk, with one of those big desk lamps that they shine into suspects’ eyes.

The walls were lavishly decorated with mug shots, press cuttings and photographs of crime scenes and horribly mutilated corpses. Eddie recognised the victims pictured in several of these gory photographs: the P.P.P.s who had been savagely done to death by the kindly, lovable white-haired old Toymaker’s evil twin during the exciting adventure that he and Jack had had but months before.[7]

Upon the floor was a carpet, which like unto Bill’s dared not to speak its name. And it was onto this carpet that Jack and Eddie were flung.

“This treatment is outrageous,” Jack protested. “I protest,” he also protested. “I demand to speak to my solicitor.”

“All in good time,” said Bellis, settling himself into the chair behind his desk and gesturing to the two that stood before it. “Seat yourselves. Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“A cup of tea?” Jack got to his knees and then his feet.

“Or coffee?” said the chief inspector.

“I’d like a beer,” said Eddie.

Chief Inspector Bellis frowned upon him.

“Or perhaps just a glass of water.” Eddie arose and did further dustings down of himself.

“You’ll have to pardon the officers,” said Bellis, leaning back in his chair and further gesturing to Jack and Eddie. “Sit yourselves down, if you will. The police officers do get a little carried away. They are so enthusiastic about maintaining law and order. They do have the public’s interests at heart.”

“They don’t have one heart between the lot of them,” said Eddie, struggling onto a chair. “They’re all as brutal as.”

“They overcompensate,” said Chief Inspector Bellis. “I expect it’s just the overexuberance of youth, which should really be channelled into sporting activities. That’s what it says in this book I’ve been reading – Learn to Leap Over Candlesticks In Just Thirty Days, by J. B. Nimble and J. B. Quick. Perhaps you’ve read it?”

“I’ll purchase a copy as soon as I leave here,” said Eddie. “Do you suppose that will be sooner rather than later, as it were?”

“Well, we’ll have to see about that. There are most serious charges.”

“Charges?” said Eddie. “There is more than one charge?”

“You can never have too many charges.” Chief Inspector Bellis grinned from ear to ear, then back again. “It’s like having too many chickens. You can never have too many chickens, can you?”

“Chickens again?” said Jack.

“I like chicken again,” said Bellis. “Again and again. I can’t get enough of chicken.”

Jack shook his head. “I am assuming that you are talking about eating chicken?” he said.

“Obviously. But it’s such a dilemma, isn’t it?”

Eddie shook his head and wondered where all this was leading to.

“You see,” said the chief inspector, “my wife makes me sandwiches for my lunch.”

“Chicken sandwiches?” Jack asked, not out of politeness, but possibly more as a diversionary tactic, in the hope that perhaps Chief Inspector Bellis would just like to chat about sandwiches for a while, before sending him and Eddie on their way.

“That’s the thing,” said Bellis. “I like chicken sandwiches. But I also like egg sandwiches. But you’ll notice that although you mix and match the contents of sandwiches – cheese and onion, egg and cress, chicken and bacon – no one ever eats a chicken and egg sandwich.”

Eddie looked at Jack. And Jack looked at Eddie.

“He’s right,” said Jack.

“He is,” said Eddie. “So why is that, do you think?”

“Because of the eternal question,” said Bellis.

“Ah,” said Eddie.

“Ah,” said Jack.

“What eternal question?” said Eddie.

“Oh, come on,” said Bellis. “What came first, the chicken or the egg? I mean, how could you eat the sandwich? You wouldn’t know which bit to eat first. You’d go mad trying. And believe me, I have tried. And I have gone mad.”

“Most encouraging,” whispered Eddie to Jack. “I can see this being a long and difficult evening.”

“Is it evening already?” asked Jack.

“Let’s just assume that it is.”

“There’s no solution to it,” said Chief Inspector Bellis. “It’s one of those things that’s best left alone. Forgotten about, in fact. In fact, let us never mention the subject again.”

“I’m up for that,” said Eddie, offering the chief inspector an encouraging smile. “So, is it all right if Jack and I go now?”

Chief Inspector Bellis shook his head. “Not as such,” he said. “In fact, not at all. There are these charges to be considered. Things do not look altogether good for you.”

“But I am innocent,” said Eddie.

“That, I’m afraid, is what they all say.”

“But Eddie is innocent,” said Jack. “And I can prove it.”

“Can you?” Eddie asked.

“Of course I can,” said Jack. “The proprietor of the cigar store said that Eddie purchased those cigars yesterday evening, did he not?”

“I heard him say that,” said Eddie.

Chief Inspector Bellis perused notes upon his desk. “That is what he said,” he said. “Shortly before eight, last evening, just before he closed up.”

“That’s right,” said Jack. “He said something about the rain and Eddie leaving puddles on his floor.”

Chief Inspector Bellis did further perusings and nodded.

“Then it can’t have been Eddie,” said Jack.

“No, it can’t,” said Eddie. “I have an alibi. I was in Tinto’s Bar at that time, and that’s right across the city.”

Chief Inspector Bellis made a thoughtful face. It was a very good thoughtful face and both Jack and Eddie were tempted to ask him to make it once more. But only tempted. They showed laudable restraint. “Well, an alibi is an alibi,” said the chief inspector. “But I can see no reason why we should let that stand in the way of letting the law take its course and justice getting done.”

“Eh?” said Eddie.

“What?” said Jack.

“Well,” said Bellis, “as I won’t be following up on the alibi, it hardly matters, does it?”

“Eh?” said Eddie again.

And Jack did another “What?” Although louder than the first.

“Crime and punishment share a certain empathy,” Chief Inspector Bellis explained, “in that both are dispassionate. The criminal goes about his work in a dispassionate manner. He cares not whom he hurts or harms. He doesn’t care about the feelings of others. And so the law behaves towards the criminal in a similar manner. The law cares not for the criminal, it simply seeks to lock him away so that he may perform no further crime.”

“But I’m innocent,” said Eddie.

“And if I were not dispassionate, I would care for your woes,” said Bellis. “But that would be unprofessional. I must never get personally involved. There’s no telling what might happen if I did so, is there?”

“You might free the innocent and convict only the guilty,” was Eddie’s suggestion.

“The distinction between guilt and innocence is a subtle one.”

“No, it’s not,” said Eddie. “You’re either guilty or you’re not.”

“I’ll thank you not to confuse the issue. Charges have been made and you have been arrested. End of story, really.”

“This is outrageous,” said Jack. “I demand to speak to your superior.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Oh yes it will,” said Jack. “I will see justice done. I really will.”

“You tell him, Jack,” said Eddie.