A Fine Italian Hand ...
　　I
　　Superintendent¹ battle had enjoyed his holiday. There were still three days of it to run and he was a little disappointed when the weather changed and the rain fell. Still, what else could you expect in England? And he'd been extremely lucky up to now.
　　He was breakfasting with Inspector² James Leach³, his nephew, when the telephone rang.
　　"I'll come right along, sir." Jim put the receiver back.
　　"Serious?" asked Superintendent Battle. He noted⁴ the expression on his nephew's face.
　　"We've got a murder. Lady Tressilian. An old lady, very well known down here, an invalid⁵. Has that house at Saltcreek that hangs right over the cliff."Battle nodded.
　　"I'm going along to see the old man" (thus disrespectfully did Leach speak of his Chief Constable). "He's a friend of hers. We're going along together."As he went to the door he said pleadingly: "You'll give me a hand, won't you, uncle, over this? First case of this kind I've had.""As long as I'm here, I will. Case of robbery and house-breaking, is it?""I don't know yet."
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