as to inspect these--ah, tubers. Mrs. Marrow," I explained to the
greengrocer, "the famous tuber expert."

In silence Mrs. Marrow began to overhaul the contents of the baskets,
every now and then picking out a particularly choice specimen, which she
added to an accumulating pile on the floor.

"Aha! Suspects!" I exclaimed grimly. "I shall take all these to the
laboratory at the Food Controller's Headquarters, where Mrs. Marrow will
submit each tuber to a meticulous test in order to satisfy herself as to
its _bona fides_. You will be gratified to hear that, should your
potatoes prove to be all they seem, the Controller will issue you a blue
card, registering you as a certified vendor of Government-tested
potatoes. This you may place in your window for the information of your
customers. If the test proves unsatisfactory"--I paused. In the deathly
silence the heavy breathing of Mrs. Marrow was distinctly audible--"you
will hear further," I concluded. "Weigh these suspects."

They turned the scale at eighteen pounds.

"Since in any case the potatoes will be rendered unfit for consumption
by the rigorous process through which they will be passed, I am
empowered by the Food Controller to compensate you in advance, at a rate
not exceeding sevenpence per pound, out of the special appropriation
funds, this sum to be returned in the event of the test proving
unsatisfactory."

So saying I handed him ten-and-sixpence. The basket was carried out to
the car by one of the guardians of law and order. Then I headed for
Kensington.