“We’ve been over this all night,” I said. “You keep asking me the same questions and I keep giving you the same answers. I’ve told you my story. But you say you don’t believe it. And that’s fair enough. I can see the holes in it. You’re bored with it. I’m bored with it. We’re all bored with it, only I’m not about to cash my story in for another. What would be the point? If it sounded any better than the original, I’d have used it in the first place. So the fact now remains that I can’t see any point in telling you another. And since I don’t care to do that, then you’d be forgiven for thinking that I don’t really care whether or not you believe me, because it seems to me there’s nothing I can do that’ll convince you. One way or another, you’ve already made up your minds. That’s the way it is with cops. Believe me, I know, I used to be a cop myself. And since I no longer care whether or not you believe me, then it would be entirely fair for you to conclude that I don’t seem to give a damn what happens to me. Well, maybe I do and maybe I don’t, but that’s for me to know and you to decide for yourselves, gentlemen.”

The cop with the dandruff scratched some more, which made the room look like a snow scene in a little glass ball. He said, “You talk a lot, mister, for someone who doesn’t say very much.”

“True, but it helps to keep the brass knuckles off my face.”

“I doubt that,” said Captain Mackay. “I doubt that very much.”