I never takes nothin' from a loser. Nor from poor people neither. I only go after them as can afford it, the winners and the rich."

"Race meetings is easy meat," he said.

I'm a fingersmith.

"So you're a pickpocket," I said."I don't like that word,

"That's eighteenth century, if I'm not mistaken, from the reign of King George the Third."

Not one in ten million!

I glanced at his fingers. They were so beautifully shaped, so slim and long and elegant, they didn't seem to belong to the rest of him at all. They looked more like the fingers of a brain surgeon or a watchmaker.

"It's because I’ve got fantastic fingers. These fingers of mine," he said, holding up both hands high in front of him, "are quicker and cleverer than the fingers of the best piano player in the world!"

It was altogether a remarkable performance.

as if from nowhere

the speed with which he performed this rather difficult operation was incredible.

"I am in a very peculiar trade. I'm in the queerest peculiar trade of 'em all.

slyly

Carefully, he copied the name and address from my license. Then he gave it back to me. He strolled around to the front of the car and read the number from the license plate and wrote that down as well. He filled in the date, the time and the details of my offence. Then he tore out the top copy of the ticket. But before handing it to me, he checked that all the information had come through clearly on his own carbon copy. Finally, he replaced the book in his breast pocket and fastened the button.

He was a big meaty man with a belly, and his blue breeches were skin-tight around his enormous thighs. His goggles were pulled up onto the helmet showing a smouldering red face with wide cheeks.

He had us where he wanted us and he knew it.

All car-makers is liars,"

I’m in a skilled trade too.

"Writing books is okay," he said. "It's what I call a skilled trade.

"I’m sorry," I said "It's none of my business what you do. The trouble is I’m a writer, and most writers are terribly nosy.”

I decided not to question him any more.

He didn't seem to like that question.

I wish I were going with you. I love betting on horses." "I never bet on horses," he said. "I don't even watch 'em run. That's a stupid silly business.”

His eyes were dark and quick and clever, like rat's eyes, and his ears were slightly pointed at the top. He had a cloth cap on his head and he was wearing a greyish-coloured jacket with enormous pockets. The grey jacket, together with the quick eyes and the pointed ears, made him look more than anything like some sort of a huge human rat

the smaller ones that offered you a lift, or the old rusty ones or the ones that were already crammed full of children and the driver would say, "I think we can squeeze in one more.”

I always stopped for hitchhikers. I knew just how it used to feel to be standing on the side of a country road watching the cars go by, I hated the drivers for pretending they didn't see me, especially the ones in big cars with three empty seats. The large expensive cars seldom stopped.

buttercups

I was driving up to London by myself. It was a lovely June day. They were haymaking in the fields and there were buttercups along both sides of the road.

grunted

growled

acceleration

I had a new car. It was an exciting toy, a big BMW 3.3 Li, which means 3.3 litre, long wheelbase, fuel injection. It had a top speed of 129 mph and terrific acceleration. The body was pale blue. The seats inside were darker blue and they were made of leather, genuine soft leather of the finest quality. The windows were electrically operated and so was the sunroof. The radio aerial popped up when I switched on the radio, and disappeared when I switched it off. The powerful engine growled and grunted impatiently at slow speeds, but at sixty miles an hour the growling stopped and the motor began to purr with pleasure.