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forward.
    Soon the old grey terrace of the High Street was shouldered aside by a modern shopping parade. Business, badly hit by the Great Strike, was picking up again, as evidenced by the brightly lit supermarket window plastered like a boxer's face with loss-leader Special Offers. Farr pressed his forehead against the glass, enjoying its smooth chill against his fevered skin.
    A car drove slowly by, coming to a halt before the Welfare. A stout man got out. He stood on the Club steps rolling a thin cigarette, then instead of going in, he walked along the pavement towards Colin Farr.
    'Got a light, friend?' he asked.
    'Don't smoke. Bad for your health,' said Farr solemnly.
    'You're an expert, are you?' laughed the man. He was studying Farr's face closely in the light from the supermarket window. 'It's Mr Farr, isn't it? From Clay Street?'
    'Depends who's asking.'
    'Boyle's the name. Monty Boyle. You may have heard of me. Here's my card.'
    He undid his jacket and took a card out of his waistcoat pocket.
    'I was thinking, Mr Farr,' he went on. 'We may be able to do each other a bit of good. I'm supposed to be seeing someone at your Club, but that can wait. Is there somewhere quiet we can go and have a talk, and a coffee too? You look like a man who could use a coffee.'
    'Coffee,' said Farr, studying the card closely. 'And somewhere quiet. It's quiet here. And lots of coffee too.'
    Boyle followed his gaze into the supermarket where a pyramid of instant coffee dominated the window display.
    'Yes,' he said with a smile. 'But I don't think they're open.'
    'No problem,' said Colin Farr.
    And picking the man up as if he weighed fifteen pounds rather than fifteen stone, he hurled him through the plate- glass window.
    Fifty yards away the doors of a parked car opened and two uniformed policemen got out. The younger, a constable, ran towards the supermarket. Behind him at a more dignified pace walked a sergeant. The constable grabbed Colin Farr from behind as he stood laughing at the man sprawled amidst the wreck of the coffee pyramid. Farr drove his elbow back into the policeman's belly and turned to grapple with him.
    'Now then, young Colin, behave yourself,' said the sergeant reprovingly.
    'That you, Sergeant Swift? Don't go away. I'll sort you out after I'm done with this bugger.'
    So saying, Farr lifted the constable in the air and hurled him after Monty Boyle.
    Sergeant Swift sighed and raised his night stick.
    'Sorry, lad, I can't wait,' he said and brought it down with moderate force and perfect aim on the base of Farr's neck. Then he held out his arms to catch the young man's body as he fell into a darkness deeper and blacker than riding the pit.

Chapter 5

    'And how was the people's poet today?'
    'Sorry?'
    'The young man in your class whose literary style you so admired.'
    'He wasn't there,' said Ellie.
    'Oh dear. A drop-out. I wondered why I found you so glum. Hello, Rosie, my love! How's life in the University crèche? Have they got you on to nuclear physics yet?'
    Pascoe picked up his daughter and held her high in the air to her great delight.
    'No, not a drop-out,' said Ellie. 'He couldn't be there because he's in jail.'
    'Jail? Good Lord.'
    Pascoe replaced Rose on the sofa and sat down beside her.
    'Tell me all,' he said.
    'He was in some kind of fracas with a policeman. I assume it was the kind of horseplay which, if indulged in with another miner, would have got his wrist slapped. With a cop, of course, it amounts to sacrilege.'
    'You assume that, do you?' mused Pascoe. 'Is it an assumption based on evidence? Or, like that of the Virgin Mary, on faith and a dearth of eye-witnesses?'
    Ellie's indignation was not to be diverted to the conspiracy of clerics, attractive target though it was.
    'An educated guess,' she retorted. 'As for evidence, I rather thought you might have mentioned the case to me before this, or does it come under Official Secrets?'
    'On the contrary. Assaults on police officers are, alas, so commonplace