Police!

Scene: A Suburban Police Station.
Through the front gate enters man.
He knocks at the door, the bell being
out of order—as it is a police station.
A lady appears in answer to the knock.

Man: Have you such a thing as a
policeman about here?
Lady: Well, we have — that is — we
HAD.
Man: Had?
Lady: Well, you see, my husband,
who is in charge, is unwell. His
assistant is away on holiday.
Man: I wish to be arrested. I'm
wanted by the police, and I'm sick of
hiding around Collins street for so long.
Lady: Excuse me a moment. I'll see
my husband.
(Lady retires, and, after an interval,
returns.)

Lady: Awfully sorry. My husband
is in a high fever. He's afraid he might
have something that's catching and that
would never do for a policeman. How-
ever, he wants to know what you are
being hunted for.
Man: Well, to be perfectly frank, I
murdered a man a week ago.
(Lady retires, and, after a further in-
terval, returns.)

Lady: My husband suggests that this
is only a branch office; your case
cannot be dealt with here. Perhaps
you had better go to Russell street.
Man (looking at his watch): Well, I
have a lunch appointment; and—
Lady: My husband would be glad to
advance you your tram fare if he had
sufficient evidence that you are a mur-
derer; but he is not quite sure.
Man: Well, I suppose I should not be
too exacting.

Lady: If you care to wait a while,
perhaps a police car may be going by.
They would pick you up and—
Man: I'm sure you are very kind; but
I'm afraid I can't spare the time.
Lady: Of course, you could ring up
one of the other suburban police sta-
tions; but I'm afraid all their 'phones
are out of order.
Man: Can't you do anything to help
me?
Lady: I'm only a woman. But I'd
arrest you myself, just to oblige you,
only that it might get me into trouble with
the Policemen's Union.
Man: As it is, I'm sorry to have
given you this trouble.
Lady: Don't mention it. I wish I
could ask you to have a glass of beer;
but I can't. Some burglars broke in
here last night, and took the lot.