Moreland’s levity vanished. “The old man’s bitten you as bad as that? Cheer up, and pull yourself together. Come and tell papa all about it.” He pulled Labar into an adjoining room, adjusted himself on a tall stool and lit a pipe. “Shoot,” he ordered.

Harry Labar shrugged his shoulders. “There’s nothing to it,” he declared. “Winter says things are too loose in the division. I’ve got to tighten them up, or⁠—”

“The shelf, eh?” Moreland eyed his friend whimsically. “That’ll be a new record for you. The youngest man to be promoted divisional inspector, and the youngest divisional inspector to retire. Well, why don’t you tighten them up?”