They even read some letters and asked who Abdul was.
Who was he?
Someone I knew a very long time ago. Luckily I had kept the envelope and it was marked Tunis, February, 1924. Otherwise they would have read all sorts of things into it about the present.
I am sorry, Aunt Augusta. It must have been a terrifying experience.
It was amusing in a way. But it did give me a guilty feeling
There was a ring from the front door and I said, Hold on a moment, Aunt Augusta. I looked through the dining-room window and saw a policemans helmet. I returned and said, Your friends are here.
Already?
Ill ring you back when theyve gone.
It was the first time I had ever been called on by the police. There was a short middle-aged man in a soft hat with a rough but kindly face and a broken nose and the tall good-looking young man in uniform.
Mr. Pulling? the detective asked.
Yes.
May we come in for a few moments?
Have you a warrant? I asked.
Oh no, no, it hasnt come to that. We just want to have a word or two with you.
I wanted to say something about the Gestapo, but I thought it wiser not. I led them into the dining-room, but I didnt ask them to sit down. The detective showed me an identity card and I read on it that he was Detective-Sergeant Sparrow, John.
You know a man called Wordsworth, Mr. Pulling?
Yes, hes a friend of my aunts.
Did you receive a package from him in the street yesterday?
I certainly did.
Would you have any objection to our examining the package, Mr. Pulling?
I most certainly would.
You know, sir, we could easily have obtained a search warrant, but we wanted to do things delicately. Have you known this man Wordsworth a long time?
I met him for the first time yesterday.
Perhaps, sir, he asked you as a favour to deliver that package and you, seeing no harm at all in that and him being an employee of your aunt
I dont know what you are talking about. The package is mine. I had accidentally left it in the kitchen.
The package is yours, sir? You admit that.
You know very well whats in the package. My aunt told you. Its an urn with my mothers ashes.
Your aunt has been in communication with you, has she?
Yes, she has. What do you expect? Waking up an old lady in the middle of the night.
It had only just gone twelve, sir. And so those ashes They are Mrs. Pullings?
There they are. You can see for yourself. On the bookcase. I had put the urn there temporarily, until I was ready to bed it, above a complete set of Sir Walter Scott[36] which I had inherited from my father. In his lazy way my father was a great reader, though not an adventurous one. He was satisfied with possessing a very few favourite authors. By the time he had read the set of Scott through he had forgotten the earlier volumes and was content to begin again with Guy Mannering. He had a complete set too of Marion Crawford, and he had a love of nineteenth-century poetry which I have inherited Tennyson[37] and Wordsworth and Browning[38] and Palgraves[39] Golden Treasury.
Do you mind if I take a look? the detective asked, but naturally he couldnt open the urn. Its sealed, he said. With Scotch tape.
Naturally. Even a tin of biscuits
I would like to take a sample for analysis.
I was becoming rather cross[40] by this time. I said, If you think I am going to let you play around with my poor mother in a police laboratory
I can understand how you feel, sir, he said, but we have rather serious evidence to go on. We took some fluff from the man Wordsworths pockets and when analysed it contained pot.
Pot?
Marijuana to you, sir. Likewise Cannabis.
Wordsworths fluff has got nothing to do with my mother.
We could get a warrant, sir, easily enough, but seeing how you may be an innocent dupe, I would rather take the urn away temporarily with your permission. It would sound much better that way in court.
You can check with the crematorium. The funeral was only yesterday.
We have already, sir, but you see its quite possible dont think Im presuming to suggest your line of defence, thats a matter entirely for your counsel that the man Wordsworth took out the ashes and substituted pot. He may have known he was being watched. Now wouldnt it be much better, sir, from all points of view to know for certain that these are your mothers ashes? Your aunt told us you planned to keep it in your garden you wouldnt want to see that urn every day and wonder, Are those really the ashes of the dear departed or are they an illegal supply of marijuana?
He had a very sympathetic manner, and I really began to see his point[41].
Wed only take out a tiny pinch, sir, less than a teaspoonful. Wed treat the rest with all due reverence.
All right, I said, take your pinch. I suppose you are only doing your duty. The young policeman had been making notes all the time.
The detective said, Take a note that Mr. Pulling behaved most helpfully and that he voluntarily surrendered the urn. That will sound well in court, sir, if the worst happens.
When will I get the urn back?
Wed only take out a tiny pinch, sir, less than a teaspoonful. Wed treat the rest with all due reverence.