Black Museum-16-The Gas Receipt

a receipt for payment for ten gallons of gasoline. Familiar object you have in many times yourself, you drive a car, but this particular receipt. Your receipt, Inspector. Thanks for all of all of mine, thank you.

Right to receipt, you hand out. Be got the light here. He likes it. Look at this, son. Stamped with a gala, complete with corpse, and marked fiddle. Rather appropriate it. Well, today as I told you, this receipt lies in its proper place, an honored place.

The annals of the Criminal Investigation Department of the London Police, we bring you the dramatic stories of the crimes recorded by the objects in Scotland Yard's Gallery of Death, the black museum. Lined along the shelves on the tables,

Roger objects standing on the floor. There's no fashion trunk. Nothing in this trunk but small clothes fled to a furnace. The things in the furnace led a man to the gallows, as paid in four, ten gallons of gas.

From the evidence, police constable Matthews had anything but merger on his mind that very early morning, an hour before dawn. as he patrolled a quiet country road near his home in Essex. Summer must be almost over.

Cold is time of morning. Not even false dawn yet. Nights are getting longer. Prisoned enough this tour during summer, lonely a bit, I suppose, gives you man time for thinking. What do I think about Ellen and the breakfast She'll have for me a bit of bacon, cup of tea, then ridiculous grown man sleeping in broad daylight

when you come to think of it. Well, company coming seems to be traveling at quite a rate too fast even this time of night. Oh, who are we in? I know they can't. You ever saw him drive like I get before?