The Perfect Creature

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THE first thing I knew of the Dixon affair was when a depu­tation came from the village of Membury to ask us if we would inves­ti­gate the alleged curious goings-on there.

But before that, perhaps, I had better explain the word ‘us’.

I happen to hold a post as Inspector for the S.S.M.A. — in full, the Society for the Suppression of the Mal­treat­ment of Animals — in the district that includes Mem­bury. Now, please don't assume that I am wobble-minded on the subject of animals. I needed a job. A friend of mine who has influence with the Society got it for me; and I do it, I think, con­scien­tiously. As for the animals them­selves, well, as with humans, I like some of them. In that, I differ from my co-Inspector, Alfred Weston; he likes — liked? — them all; on principle, and indis­crimin­ately.

It could be that, at the salaries they pay, the S.S.M.A. has doubts of its personnel — though there is the point that where legal action is to be taken two witnesses are desirable; but, what­ever the reason, there is a practice of appointing their inspec­tors as pairs to each district; one result of which was my daily and close asso­ciation with Alfred.

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