Ignoring the cold wind, PC Higgins took off his helmet and wiped his brow with a huge colored handkerchief. «I'm sure you do, sir. And I'm sure I wouldn't — Oho, there is a taxi now! Just pulling up.»

PC Higgins put his whistle to his mouth and puffed out a mighty blast. The taxi made a U-turn and came back to them. The constable bundled his charge into the back seat. «There you are, sir. You'll be fine, you will. Now just go home and have a nice sleep.»

The man leaned out the window. For a moment his eyes cleared and there was concern on his face. His face was steady. «Thank you, constable. And I would appreciate it if you would just forget this — forget everything I said, whatever it may have been.» He fell back into the seat and gave the driver an address in Belgravia.

PC Higgins spoke as the taxi pulled away. «I'll forget it, sir. With pleasure.»

PC Higgins turned and started back toward Westminster Bridge. Five months until he took his pension. He grinned. Five months wasn't so long. Then he could grow roses— and rest his feet.