Of Scotland Yardxx-xx-xx xxx Frederick Stewart

to talk and discuss and argue for hours and hours on end. Perhaps I talk to him, that's all right. Perhaps I do. It's a very common quote. But mind you, I always get the other for the answer.

So long as he's brief and to the point. Not having transgressed any of the criminal laws, as I know, I've got to wable it so far. But if I were a criminal, now that would be a very different cup of tea, a pair of shoes or kettle of fish, whichever simmer you prefer.

Criminals have to be very, very careful not to go on too long. After studying many cases, I've come to the conclusion that criminals seldom help and more often harm themselves by saying more than they need to.

Therefore to all would be criminals, my advice is, keep your crap shut. In proof of which, I'm going to tell you the story of a man whose life was in the balance. You'll hear which way tipped by speaking just three words too many, only three words. And I know people who use thousands and thousands of words too

many and are not even arrested. I expect you know a lot of the same kind. But in the case of Frederick Stewart, the man in question three words made the difference between freedom and let us go back a few years to one evening in February. Our scene is London, Pembridge Square base water to be exact. And as our man, Frederick Stewart, scrolling casually around the square.

The only reason you give him a second dance is because he's such a very small man, only three quarters of an inch over five feet. He doesn't look like a criminal, does he? That he is. And just out of jail for house-breaking, he usually holds down a job as a bookie stock, but this doesn't tide him over the winter months when there's very little horse-racing.