No Comebacks

The door, when they reached it, was still closed. Chadwick gestured to it.

'In there,' he said.

After a pause and with a suspicious glance at Chadwick, the constable mounted the steps and rang the bell. Chadwick joined him on the top step. The door opened, carefully. Mrs Brent appeared. Her eyes widened at the sight of Chadwick. Before the policeman could say anything Chadwick chipped in.

'Mrs Brent? I wonder if this officer could have a word with your husband?'

Mrs Brent nodded and fled back into the house. From inside, both callers heard a whispered conversation. The words 'police' and 'that man' were discernible. After a minute Gaylord Brent appeared at the door. With his left hand he clutched a cold, wet dishcloth to his nose. Behind it he sniffed repeatedly.

'Yed?' he said.

'This is Mr Gaylord Brent,' said Chadwick.

'Are you Mr Gaylord Brent?' asked the officer.

'Yed,' replied Gaylord Brent.

'A few minutes ago,' said Chadwick, 'Mr Brent was deliberately punched on the nose.'

'Is that true?' the policeman asked Brent.

'Yed,' Brent nodded, glaring over his dishcloth

at Chadwick.

'I see,' said the officer, who plainly did not. 'And who did this?'

'I did,' said Chadwick at his side.

The policeman turned in disbelief. 'I beg your pardon?' he asked.

'I did. I hit him on the nose. That's a common assault, isn't it?'

'Is that true?' the policeman asked Brent.

The face behind the towel nodded.

'May I ask why?' inquired the policeman of Chadwick.

'As to that,' said Chadwick, 'I'm only prepared to explain it all in a statement at the police station.'

The policeman looked nonplussed. At last he said, 'Very well, sir, then I must ask you to accompany me to the station.'

There was a panda car on Heath Street by this time, summoned by the constable five minutes earlier. He had a brief conversation with the two uniformed policemen inside, and he and Chadwick both climbed into the rear. The car brought them to the local police station inside two minutes. Chadwick was led up to the duty sergeant. He stood silent while the young constable explained to the sergeant what had happened. The sergeant, a middle-aged veteran of world-weary patience, contemplated Chadwick with some interest.

'Who is this man you hit?' he asked at length.

'Mr Gaylord Brent,' said Chadwick.

'Don't like him, do you?' asked the sergeant.

'Not much,' said Chadwick.

'Why come up to this officer and tell him you've done it?' asked the sergeant.

Chadwick shrugged. 'It's the law, isn't it? An offence in law has been committed; the police should be informed.'

'Nice thought,' conceded the sergeant. He turned to the constable. 'Much damage done to Mr Brent?'