A Tax Man Pretends To Be The Patron Saint
Peter Paye of His Majesty’s Revenue and Customs was wearing George’s armour, pretending to be the patron saint. With George’s man, Jack, he was in the headquarters of the secret service trying to discover the fate of one hundred golden coins provided for George’s recent mission to Scotland. They were ushered into Jim Barton’s office, and prompted by Jack, Peter managed to greet the senior spy as if he knew him. ‘Good to see you Jim,’ Peter said, ‘I hope I’ll also have a chance to see Dick.’
‘Only if you take a trip to Stirling, I’m afraid,’ replied Jim.
‘Oh no, not locked up again!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘What was he doing in Scotland?’
‘Trying to recover the gold coins you left scattered on the moor,’ said Jim.
‘You saw my report then,’ said Peter, trying to sound like George.
‘Of course, nothing escapes the eyes of the secret service,’
‘Then you know our mission was successful,’ boasted the pseudo patron saint in a manner that greatly impressed Jack.
‘I know you wasted a hundred golden sovereigns, and Dick had to go to try to clean up behind you,’ said the master sleuth.
‘But the clansmen took the coins and threw them on the moor and Jack did well to rescue some that we used to compensate King Duncan for the loss of his sporran,’ protested Peter, supported by an energetically nodding Jack.’
‘I’ve read your report and I’m familiar with your excuses,’ said Jim, ‘I suppose it’s the best we can expect from amateurs.’
‘Your professional doesn’t seem to have done much better,’ Jack interjected.
At this point, Jim decided it was time for Jack to hand back his Scottish disguise and asked an assistant to conduct them to the costume department. Jack had the Scottish outfit in a sack which he handed to the big jolly lady in charge of costumes. She opened the sack and the jolly expression faded. ‘The state you people bring the clothes back in!’ she exclaimed. ‘This stuff looks like it’s been dragged round half of Scotland.’
‘Yes it has,’ said Jack.
‘It’ll have to go straight to the laundry,’ pronounced the costume queen, and she bustled out leaving the visitors alone.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ said Peter, ‘can you get me out of this armour?’
‘It’ll take a little while,’ said Jack, ‘I hope we have enough time.’
‘Lock the door,’ said Peter, ‘if she comes back she will have to go for help; that will gain us more time.’
They worked as quickly as they could. ‘Put all the pieces in the sack,’ Peter said. Go outside on the pretext of having left something behind and find George. Get him back here in armour, and bring me his overalls. I’ll find somewhere to hide until you get back.’
‘Make sure you hide well,’ said Jack, ‘you’ll frighten anybody who sees you in those red and white striped underpants.’
george clothing
