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lockup, and the duty officer opened one of the doors and explained: “These are nothing special—mostly we only get drunks. We do get people from Tahkovuori sometimes. We’ve had some quite important people inside, too.”
    There were two adjoining cells: modest rooms. The windows, frosted wired glass, had no bars. Screwed to the wall there was a tubular bed, a lidless toilet, and a chair, also fastened immovably. A lamp without a lampshade dangled from the ceiling.
    “They generally smash that lamp in their rage, and so they get to sit in the dark. Should put a steel frame around it—the tallest can jump that high.”
    The policemen made some coffee. Vatanen went to lie down on the duty-room bed. The officers chatted about Vatanen’s case in subdued tones, thinking he was asleep. He overheard the men’s assessment of Laurila. All in all, they thought it a pretty unusual case: best to proceed cautiously at the start. Vatanen dozed off.
    Later, about ten, the duty officer woke Vatanen. The superintendent had been contacted and was on his way. Vatanen rubbed his eyes, looked at the basket by his feet, and saw it was empty.
    “The boys are out in the forecourt with it. We saw it didn’t run away, and we thought it might be hungry, so we procured some of that meadow vetchling you mentioned. Quite a meal it’s had, in fact.”
    The younger constables re-entered with the hare. They let it go hopping around the floor, leaving little pellets everywhere. The officers kicked the droppings into the corners but, finding that not very satisfactory, they grabbed a rag off the coffee table and whisked the droppings up against the wall.
    A little yellow car drove into the forecourt. The superintendent came in. He noticed the hare on the floor, showed no surprise, offered his hand to Vatanen, and announced his name: “Savolainen.”
    The duty officer explained the whole case to him. The superintendent was a youngish man, probably a recent graduate in jurisprudence, in the sticks as a stage in his career. He certainly looked professional enough as he listened to the evidence.
    “The boys in Kuopio told you to lock him up?”
    “That’s what they recommended, but we didn’t want to go ahead till we heard from you.”
    “You did right. I know Laurila.”
    The superintendent examined Vatanen’s papers and returned his money to him. “I’ll give the doctor a ring,” he said and picked up the telephone.
    “District Superintendent Savolainen here. Good evening. You have, I understand, brought criminal charges against a certain person. Yes, I see. However, the situation is this: your report has no foundation. This is the conclusion we’ve arrived at in the course of our investigations. It’s important that you come here at once to clear the matter up. Tomorrow won’t do, not at all. This will be a very difficult situation for you unless somehow or other you can clear the matter up. If the person concerned presses charges, I don’t know what I, as a police officer, can do about it. In any case, the person has been held here on your responsibility and could press charges of false accusation against you. He’s been compelled to endure a considerable time here at the police station. When you arrive, you won’t find me here, but you can explain yourself to the duty officer, who will be responsible for interrogating you. Good-bye.”
    The superintendent grinned. To Heikkinen he said: “Sound out Laurila. Question him about this and that. Force him to think up suitable answers. Ask whatever you like—you could even take his fingerprints. When you’ve finished, tell him he can go. Say that neither the public prosecutor nor I will pursue charges unless the person concerned considers it appropriate. Well, you know the form. Yes, and, Vatanen, where are you going for the night? I’m off back to the lake till morning. I put some nets out. Why not come along with me for the night? You can bring that hare of yours. It’s a little log