The Box of Delights by John Masefield Page A

people see you?’
    ‘No, they couldn’t,’ Kay said, ‘from where they were.’
    ‘And, did you shout or try to raise an alarm?’ the Inspector asked.
    ‘I’m afraid we didn’t,’ Kay said. ‘We were just spell-bound, and it all happened in an instant. They ran out, scrobbled him up, put him into the aeroplane and away
they went.’
    ‘Well,’ the Inspector said, ‘it sounds like the aerodrome to me: those young fellows, Master Kay, serving their country and away from the civilising influence of their mothers,
just full of spirits, the spit of what I was myself when I was a young man. It was a Christmas gambol and a bit of what you call “ragging”. And you see, Master Harker, the Law
isn’t like ordinary things: sometimes the Law has to put its foot down, sometimes it has to shut its eyes. And the Law, Master Kay, makes much of what is called “motive”:
what’s prank when meant as prank may become felony when meant as felony, and what you saw seems to me to be no more than prank.
    ‘But all the same, I am obliged to you, Master Harker. We in the Law are always glad of evidence, first-hand evidence, from one who knows what’s what. I’ll keep my eyes and
ears open, Master Kay, for anything out Bottler’s Down way, but nothing’s come in yet: no job for the Law has been done out Bottler’s Down way. But we in the Law keep our eyes
open as well as our ears. I’ll ask what aeroplanes were out that way this morning.
    ‘And you were a matter of two hundred yards from the scene of this fracas,’ the Inspector said, ‘and you didn’t recognise any of the parties?’
    ‘Well,’ Kay said, ‘we both think, and are almost sure, that the man was the Punch and Judy man who was at Seekings House last night from half-past five to half-past six. He was
stopping yesterday at the Drop of Dew and his name was Cole Hollings or Cole Hawlings.’
    At this moment the telephone bell rang. The Inspector lifted the receiver. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Condicote seven thousand. What is it?’ Someone talked to him for a minute or
two. ‘Now that,’ the Inspector said, putting down the receiver, ‘that’s what we call in the Law a coincidence. That was our officer at Tatchester asking about your Punch and
Judy man, Cole Hollings or Hawlings. The man is at Tatchester now and the Police are asking “Is he a fit kind of man to give a public performance at the Bishop’s Palace this very night
as ever is?”’
    ‘And he’s at Tatchester now?’ Kay asked.
    ‘Yes,’ the Inspector said, ‘at the Police Station, showing his licence. You heard me ask “Is he all right?”: they said “Yes.” You heard me ask
“Does he make any complaints?”: they said “No.” So if he was the man you saw, Master Harker, he can’t be much the worse, even if they did put him in the aeroplane. Now
is he, Master Harker, a kind of man to perform before a Bishop and other holy men?’
    ‘He’s simply wonderful,’ Kay said.
    The Inspector took up the receiver and spoke again. ‘I have every reason to suppose,’ he said, ‘from information received, that the man is a good performer and can be trusted
not to disappoint nor yet to shock the company. By the way, is the man there?’
    He listened and then said, ‘Just bring him to the telephone. There’s a young gentleman would like to know something. Hallo. Hallo. Is that Mr Hawlings? Are you any the worse for
being in the aeroplane?
    ‘(“No,” he says, “none the worse, sir.”)
    ‘Mr Hawlings, who was it put you in the aeroplane?
    ‘(He says some young friends, with more fun than sense.)
    ‘And what brought you out Bottler’s Down way in the snow, Mr Hawlings?
    ‘(He says it was the only flat bit where he could meet the aeroplane.)
    ‘Now here’s a young friend wants to ask how you are.’
    The Inspector handed over the receiver to Kay.
    ‘Is that you, Mr Hollings?’ Kay asked. ‘I rang you up to ask how you are . . . if you’re any the worse for the