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lost. Would you like some tea?'
    Ormerod eyed the cups and she saw him doing it. 'You'll get a clean cup,' she promised. 'Don't take any notice of those.'
    'Oh, all right. Thanks,' said Ormerod. 'What are they there for then? Those cups? Another booby trap for the Germans?' She grinned at him. He said: 'They come in here, dying for a cup of tea, drink out of one of the poisoned cups and urgh! Another Hun dead.'
    'You know that's not a bad idea,' she said, busying herself
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    with a teapot. She took two clean cups from a cupboard and held them up so he could see. 'Perhaps we could extend it. Open all the cafes along the south coast and fill them with dirty cups. The Germans land, rush for a cup of tea at the Bognor Esplanade Tea Rooms, and they're wiped out to a man. Not bad.'
    'Make sure all the pubs open when they land,' contributed Ormerod. 'The beer's like poison now, anyway. That should take care of the ones that don't drink tea.'
    The inner door opened to destroy the fantasy. A tall man in the uniform of the Free French Forces came out of the room followed by Brigadier Clark. Both men put their caps on and saluted each other, shook hands and then saluted each other again, a performance which, for some reason, acutely embarrassed Ormerod. He had uncertainly risen to his feet at the first salute, in the same way as he would have done had the National Anthem been played, half sat down at the hand shake and then stood up again at the second salute. The French man, only glancing at him, went out briskly and Brigadier Clark took off his cap and shook hands with the bewildered Ormerod who had thought that because he had put his cap on he was leaving the room. The officer saw the reason for his expression. 'Had to salute,' he said, motioning Ormerod into his office. 'So had to put the damned cap on. Can't salute without a cap you see.'
    'Oh, that's right,' recalled Ormerod. I seem to remember now.'
    'You didn't really have enough time in the army to get any rank did you?' said Brigadier Clark indicating a chair. He opened a folder and glanced inside. Ormerod stared at the folder as he sat down. The Brigadier balanced on the corner of his desk. He was a tall man and his feet were comfortably on the floor.
    'Rank? Me? Oh, I rose to lance-bombardier,' said Ormerod.
    Clark laughed good-humouredly. 'At least in the police force you've done a bit better than that,' he said. Then immediately, 'Are you sorry you're out of the army, Ormerod?'
    Ormerod said: 'Well, to be honest, no sir.' Then he slowed and looked at the officer carefully. 'And anyway, I feel I'm
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    doing a worthwhile job as I am. I mean we're all here together now, if you understand my meaning, sir. All besieged. If the Germans come we'll all be in the army won't we? They've given the police guns and that's not to direct the traffic is it?'
    The answer obviously amused and satisfied Clark. He nodded and smiled and went around to the chair behind the desk. 'You won't have to worry,' he said. 'I'm not giving you your calling- up papers. Would you like some tea?'
    Ormerod said yes for the second time in ten minutes. As if she had been eavesdropping the busty girl came in with a tray and poured two cups for them. They had sugar too, Ormerod observed, obviously part of the emergency rations in case of a siege. For the first time in months he took two lumps. He looked up guiltily but nobody seemed to mind. The Brigadier refused and Ormerod thought it was strange that the girl should have offered it to him. If she worked there she must have known that he did not take sugar. Then it occurred to him that he had taken the officer's lump as well. He felt embarrassed and even thought of fishing it out again. But it was already well dissolved.
    There followed a difficult silence, the staff officer and the detective drinking tea from thick WD cups. It was an occupation that required complete attention at least until the heavy brown tea was lower than danger level. Once it was they