‘I know, but that is not what I am asking. When their appeal goes up to the Board they are not allowed to call witnesses. Everything is based on the reports made by the police and their previous files. Many of them, to my knowledge, are detained, because it is presumed that free, they might give trouble. Under Emergency Regulations nothing more than suspicion is necessary for detention. So, I want to know whether Commandant Hinchcliffe or anybody else can help to clear them, with any information gathered during their … ah, stay in this camp. What makes him grade them into white, grey, and black?’

Hinchcliffe looked appealingly at Clerkwell, and then, with the courage of a good man much troubled, he said:

‘I will tell you, Mr Quo Boon. You have put me in a spot and this is confidential.’ He looked round at the others. ‘When they are sent here from other places I am not given the files. The files stay in Police Headquarters. I don’t know anything about them except I’m told whether they are very bad or just bad. I’ve got nothing to do with their past. One day they’re here, and that’s where I start. Got to make up my mind and I make it up the only way I can …’

‘And that is …?’ prompted Quo Boon.

Hinchcliffe threw another agonized look at Clerkwell, but received no help. Clerkwell was smoking furiously; and so Hinchcliffe said:

‘It all depends. If they’re polite, if they salute and smile, and call me Tuan, call me Sir, when I go round; if the interpreter wallah tells me that they say how happy they are, then I put them among the whites. But if they’re surly and bad-tempered, and won’t answer my questions, and won’t laugh, they stay among the blacks. Now, is that fair or isn’t it?’ And he looked at each in turn, for approval. His sad blue eyes betrayed the turmoil of his mind, the frustrated kindness of a man caught and trapped in his ignorance, knowing the system inadequate, but standing his ground. What else would you do in my place? his eyes seemed to ask. What else could you do? I do not speak the language. I do not understand these people. I am not told what else to do. What other measure have I got but the measure of their good behaviour, their servility when I walk among them through the camp? And isn’t good behaviour the standard in every prison?

There were no further questions, and the party returned in the sleek black cars in the same order in which they had come.