"Of course," I interrupted. "But I require something quite simple and
straightforward. Just a trench-coat, you understand."

"We have here," he said immediately, "the Gadget coat. It possesses
three hundred button-holes and three hundred buttons. Every single
portion of the coat can be buttoned on to every other part at a
moment's notice. The pockets are detachable and can be used as coffee
cups or finger bowls. The coat itself, when stretched on our patent
aluminium framework, makes an admirable hip-bath."

I played nervously in my pocket with the pin of a live Mills grenade
(overlooked by the A.M.L.O.).

"A simple, straightforward trench-coat," I repeated.

"This," said the shopman, handing me something very like a slice of
plum-pudding--"this is the cross-section of a piece of the cloth out
of which our 'Stopablitey' trench-coat is manufactured. It shows the
strata of the material, consisting of alternate layers of old motor
tyres and reinforced concrete--the whole covered with alligator skin
and proofed with our patent indispensable--"

It was then that I killed him and buried him under a pyramid of
indispensable gadgets. It will be years before they find him.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Wife_ (_Time 3.45 A.M._). "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

_Special Constable_. "AIR-RAID DUTY, DEAR."