The Trouble With Harry by Jack Trevor Story

they’d never get their story over before the last chapter. In real life people spend fifty per cent of their lives hiding what they want to say behind their vocabulary and the other fifty per cent trying to find out what other people are hiding.’
    Sam returned her gaze, seriously. He said: ‘I like the way you talk and the things you say.’
    ‘Can I have some gingerbread, Mummy?’ Abie said, looking up at them and rubbing his eyes.
    Jennifer laughed at Sam over the small boy’s head. ‘It’s well beyond his bedtime. I’d better get him home.’
    ‘I’ll come with you,’ Sam said.
    ‘There’s no need,’ Jennifer said. ‘It’s quite late.’
    ‘I want a piggy-back,’ Abie said.
    ‘I’ll come with you,’ Sam said.

I’LL GET MY SPADE
    After Abie had gone to sleep Jennifer made coffee. They were about to drink it when there came an urgent knocking at the door. It was the new captain and Miss Graveley. They came into the room blinking against the light. The captain was shirt-sleeved and perspiring and in one hand he carried a spade.
    â€˜What’s happened?’ Sam asked.
    â€˜I’ve got something to tell you,’ said Captain Wiles.
    Miss Graveley gripped his arm. ‘No, captain.
I
have something to tell them.’
    â€˜Make up your minds,’ Sam said.
    Miss Graveley struck an impressive pose. ‘I killedHarry Worp,’ she said, ‘with my ice-calf brogue.’
    Jennifer yawned. She said: ‘Oh, him.’
    Sam looked at the captain and said: ‘Told you so.’
    Miss Graveley looked around at them. ‘We’re on our way to telephone the police,’ she said.
    Sam and Jennifer sat up and took a great deal of notice.
    The captain made an apologetic face behind Miss Graveley’s back. ‘I keep telling her there’s no need. They’ve got plenty of bodies without this one.’
    â€˜You’re right,’ said Sam. ‘It wouldn’t be decent. He’s dead and buried.’
    â€˜He’s not, you know,’ said the captain, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.
    Sam almost gaped. ‘You haven’t dug him up
again
?’
    Miss Graveley intervened. ‘I insisted, Mr Marlow. You have nothing to fear. It is my concern entirely. As soon as I heard the full circumstances of his being here I knew there was nothing for me to hide. Nobody could possibly gossip about a lady and a maniac.’
    â€˜You’d be surprised,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t think you realise, Miss Graveley, what murder involves – hoursand hours of questioning; photographs; the whole of your private life spread indecently in the newspapers.’
    â€˜And what makes you think my private life is indecent?’ Miss Graveley enquired acidly.
    The captain smiled secretly at the artist’s embarrassment.
    â€˜I didn’t mean that. It’s the way they pry that’s indecent. They’ll worry you to death. Policemen, news-reporters, detectives—’
    â€˜I have made up my mind,’ Miss Graveley said. ‘It was the captain who persuaded me to call and tell Mrs Rogers what I proposed doing. After all, she’s most closely connected with the business. What do you think about it, Mrs Rogers?’
    Jennifer poured two more cups of coffee. ‘I can’t think why you’re making such a fuss about Harry. If he was buried, then I can’t see why you had to dig him up. But since you’ve dug him up, I don’t see why you shouldn’t do as you think best.’ She added: ‘Frankly – have some coffee? – I don’t care what you do with Harry as long as you don’t bring him back to life.’
    Miss Graveley accepted the coffee. ‘I have a free hand, then?’
    â€˜Quite, so far as I’m concerned—’
    â€˜Just a minute,’ Sam interrupted. ‘I think you’ve forgotten something, Jennifer. If this comes out, do you realise that