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Updated: June 26, 2025
Nicky-Nan cast a glance over his shoulder. "We're neighbours here?" "Certainly," agreed Mr Latter, puzzled, and on his defence. "Noticed anything strange about Rat-it-all, of late?" "Rat-it-all?" "You wish friendly to him, eh? . . . I ask because, as between the police and licensed victuallers " Nicky-Nan hesitated. "You may make your mind easy," Mr Latter assured him.
Why should any private person undertake such unpleasantness, when it's the plain duty of the police, and in fact what they're paid for." "Then why not leave it to Rat-it-all?" "I believe I will, after giving him a hint. . . . But you don't seem to see, Charity Oliver!" her friend exploded. "What you are arguing may do well enough for ordinary times. These are not ordinary times.
I will say that Mr Steele has a very happy way of putting things. . . . So you really are going to lay information, Mary-Martha? If you see your duty so clear, I can't think why you troubled to consult me." "I shall do my duty," declared Mrs Polsue. "Without taking further responsibility, I shall certainly put Rat-it-all on the look-out."
"It's a place," answered Policeman Rat-it-all with painful lucidity, "where they shut people up. Sometimes there's an execution. But not often; not very often; once in a while, as you might say. There's a monument, too, upon a hill they call the Beacon. I'm very fond of Bodmin.
"Well," said 'Bert, addressing Mr Pamphlett and his face, though pale, was dogged "if 'Beida's willin', I'd as lief get it off my mind. . . . The first thing, sir, was P'liceman Rat-it-all's comin' to me, Tuesday evenin': an' he said to me, 'What be you doin' to occupy yourself as a Boy Scout, now that this here coast-watchin's off? " "I didn' say 'off," interrupted Rat-it-all.
"I'm sure I can't tell 'ee," answered Nicky-Nan after a painful effort at guessing. "It couldn' be for obscene language; nor yet for drunks." Policeman Rat-it-all leant forward and touched him on the top button of his waistcoat. "Zepp-a-lins!" he said mysteriously. "Eh?" "Zepp-a-lins!" "Oh!" Nicky-Nan's brow cleared "You mean them German balloon things the papers make so much fuss about."
By day the pilots with their telescopes habitually commanded this whole stretch of coast, nor could the periscope of a submarine push itself above the inshore water and not be detected. At the corner of the Warren, where the cliff turns eastwardly with a sharp bend, Nicky-Nan almost ran into Policeman Rat-it-all, who pulled himself up for a chat as usual.
"Here, run downstairs and fetch up some more water, if you want to be useful." 'Beida stared at the ewer. She transferred her gaze to Rat-it-all and his patient: then, after a shiver, to Mr Pamphlett. She had courage. Her eyes grew hard and fierce. "Is that why Mr Pamphlett's pokin' his nose into a cupboard?"
"An' you've kept me dallyin' all this while how-de-doin'?" Rat-it-all made a bolt down the path. Nicky-Nan watched his disappearing figure, and collapsed upon a thyme-scented hillock in sudden revulsion from a long strain of terror. He sat there for a good five minutes, staring out on the open waters of the Channel.
Suspicion, fear, wild anger wove dances in his brain witch-dances immingled with cursings upon the heads of Pamphlett and Policeman Rat-it-all. . . . Of a sudden he sat up and stiffened with a new fright. "By the manner of her conversation, that woman was makin' love to me!"
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