He felt the parcel wrenched from his grip, heard the roar of the engine kick-started, saw the parcel drop into an open basket on the handlebars of the motorbike, and in seconds the machine was away, weaving back into the lunch-time traffic of the Albert Bridge Road. It was over in seconds, and even if the police had been watching, they could hardly have caught the man, so quickly did he move. Mr Nutkin shook his head sadly and went back to his office in the City.
The man with the theory about names and nicknames was quite wrong in the case of Detective Sergeant Smiley of the Criminal Investigation Department. When he called to see Mr Nutkin the following week, his long horse face and sad brown eyes looked very sombre. He stood on the doorstep in the winter darkness in a long black coat like an undertaker.
'Mr Nutkin?'
'Yes.'
'Mr Samuel Nutkin?'
'Yes,... er, yes, that's me.'
'Detective Sergeant Smiley, sir. 1 wonder if I might have a few moments with you.' He proffered his warrant card, but Mr Nutkin bobbed his head in acceptance, and said, 'Won't you come in?'
Detective Sergeant Smiley was ill at ease.
'Er... what I have to discuss, Mr Nutkin, is somewhat of a private nature, perhaps even somewhat embarrassing,' he began.
'Good Lord,' said Nutkin, 'there's no need to be embarrassed, Sergeant.'
Smiley stared at him. 'No need ...?'
'Good gracious me, no. Some tickets for the police ball no doubt. We in the tennis club always send a few along. As secretary this year I quite expected ...'
Smiley swallowed hard. 'I'm afraid it's not about the police ball, sir. I am here in the course of inquiries.'
'Well, there's still no need to be embarrassed,' said Mr Nutkin.
The muscles in the sergeant's jaw worked spasmodically. 'I was thinking, sir, of your embarrassment, not my own,' he said patiently. 'Is your wife at home, sir?'
'Well, yes, but she's in bed. She retires early, you know. Her health ...'
As if on cue a petulant voice came floating from the upper floor down to the hallway. 'Who is it, Samuel?'
'It's a gentleman from the police, my dear.'
'From the police?'
'Now do not fret yourself, my dear,' Samuel Nutkin called back. 'Er ... it simply has to do with the forthcoming tennis tournament with the police sports club.'
Sergeant Smiley nodded in grim approval of the subterfuge and followed Mr Nutkin into the sitting room.
'Now, perhaps you can tell me what this is all about, and why I should be embarrassed,' said the latter as the door closed.
'Some days ago,' began Sergeant Smiley, 'my colleagues in the Metropolitan Police Force had occasion to visit a flat in the West End of London. While searching the premises, they came across a series of envelopes in a locked drawer.'
Samuel Nutkin gazed at him with benign interest.
'Each of these envelopes, some thirty in all, contained a postcard on which had been written the name of a man, all different, along with home address and in some cases address of place of employment. The envelopes also contained up to a dozen photographic negatives, and in each case these proved to be pictures of men, usually mature men, in what one might only describe as an extremely compromising situation with a woman.'
Samuel Nutkin had gone pale and he moistened his lips nervously. Sergeant Smiley looked disapproving.
'In each case,' he went on, 'the woman in the photographs was the same, a person known to the police as a convicted prostitute. I'm afraid to have to tell you, sir, that one of the envelopes contained your name and address, and a series of six negatives in which you featured engaged in a certain activity in company with this woman. We have established that this woman, along with a certain man, was one of the occupants of the flat visited by the Metropolitan Police. The man in the case was the other occupant. Do you begin to follow me?'
Samuel Nutkin held his head in his hands in shame. He gazed with haggard eyes at the carpet. Finally he sighed a deep sigh.
'Oh, my God,' he said. 'Photographs. Someone must have taken photographs. Oh, the shame of it, when it all comes out. I swear to you, Sergeant, I had no idea it was illegal.'
Sergeant Smiley blinked rapidly. 'Mr Nutkin, let me make one thing quite plain. Whatever you did was not illegal. Your private life is your own affair as far as the police are concerned, providing it breaks no laws. And visiting a prostitute does not break the law.'