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afternoon, Calvin drove out to the Downside Golf Course.
    He played perfect golf because his mind was fully occupied with the problem of stealing the payroll. He didn’t think about golf. He approached the ball and hit it without bothering if it hooked, sliced or flew straight. It had flown straight. He putted in the same frame of mind. The ball would either drop or miss by yards: it dropped.
    His afternoon wasn’t wasted. He now had an idea. This was something he want ed urgently to discuss w ith Kit. It irritated him when he drove into the garage to find her estate wagon wasn’t there. He went up to his room, stripped off, took a shower, then putting on a shirt and slacks, he pul l ed his armchair up to the window and sat down to consider this idea of his. A little after six o’clock, he heard the television start up. Then at half past six, he saw the estate wagon drive into the garage.
    There would be the inevitable dinner to prepare. He would have no chance to talk to Kit for at least another three hours. He went downstairs.
    He met Kit as she came hurrying in. They paused and looked at each other.
    ‘Did you get any golf?’ she asked.
    ‘I played a round … not a bad course.’ He stared fixedly at her. ‘I have an idea. Let’ s talk about it tonight.’
    She nodded.
    ‘About ten?’
    Again she nodded.
    He went down the stairs and into the lounge. Alice was sewing on a button on a blouse. The two old people were in the other room, watching television.
    Calvin dropped into a lounging chair. He switched on his charm as Alice looked up. She flushed and looked quickly away from him.
    ‘Gee! I’m tired,’ he said. ‘I’ve been playing golf all afternoon. What have you been doing?’
    She looked confused as she said, ‘Nothing … really … sewing … ’
    ‘Don’t you find it dull living here?’ he asked, staring at her. Suddenly this thin pale spin sterish girl had become very im portant to his financial future.
    ‘No … I don’t find it dull at all,’ she said. ‘I like it here.’
    ‘Do you ever go out dancing?’
    Blood stained her face.
    ‘No … I don’t care for dancing.’
    His expression was kindly as he shook his head.
    ‘But you should. You’re young. Don’t tell me you haven’t a boy-friend.’
    Her flush deepened painfully.
    ‘No … I haven’t.’
    There was a pause then he said, ‘By the way, I meant to ask you about Mrs. Reeder’s account. Couldn’t we suggest she invests in something a bit more exciting than gilt edged?’ Now he had learned what he wanted to know, he deliberately changed the subject. Alice immediately lost her shyness. For the next half hour, they discussed Mrs. Reeder’s investments, then they were interrupted by Miss Pearson and Major Hardy who had seen the six o’clock serial and were now anxious to be entertained by the younger people.
    After dinner Alice and the old people watched television and Calvin, excusing himself, saying he had letters to write, went upstairs.
    He stretched out on his bed, lit a cigarette and gave his mind again to the idea that had suddenly come to him on the golf course. The more he consider ed it, the more convinced he be came that it would work.
    Finally, a little after ten o’clock, he heard the lock click back, then the communicating door opened. Kit came in and went to one of the lounging chairs and sat down.
    ‘Well? What is this idea of yours?’ she asked, looking at him as he lay inert on the bed, staring fixedly up at the ceiling.
    ‘Maybe it’ll surprise you to learn that Alice is planning with her boy-friend to steal the Pittsvil le payroll,’ Calvin said. ‘What do you think of that as an idea?’
    Kit frowned.
    ‘I don’t follow you. What do you mean?’
    ‘You heard what I said. If the payroll vanishes, the Federal agents will know it is an inside job. Either Alice or myself will be suspected. Well, Alice is the one who is going to get stuck with it.’
    Kit moved impatiently.
    ‘No one would