a snapshot of life

While completing the last of my 400-plus pages of reading assigned over the weekend, I was deliciously surprised by the introduction to one of the stories issued for my detective fiction class. The plot of the actual mystery itself was somewhat subpar, but the introduction was (perhaps only to my sleepy and print-weary brain) an excellent and humorous rendering of a frame story. I present to you excerpts from the beginning of the story.

The Haunted Policeman
by Dorothy L. Sayers

"GOOD GOD!" said his lordship. "Did I do that?"
"All the evidence points that way," replied his wife.
"Then I can only say that I never knew so convincing a body of evidence produce such an inadequate result."
The nurse appeared to take this reflection personally. She said in a tone of rebuke: "He's a beautiful boy."
"H'm," said Peter. He adjusted his eyeglass carefully. "Well, you're the expert witness. Hand him over."
The nurse did so, with a dubious air. She was relieved to see that this disconcerting parent handled the child competently; as, in a man who was an experienced uncle, was not, after all, so very surprising. Lord Peter sat down gingerly on the bed.
"Do you feel it's up to standard?" he inquired with some anxiety. "Of course, your workmanship's always sound--but you never know with these collaborate efforts."
"I think it'll do," said Harriet.
"Good." He turned abruptly to the nurse. "All right; we'll keep it. Take it and put it away, and tell 'em to invoice me. It's a very interesting addition to you, Harriet; but it would have been a hell of a rotten substitute." His voice wavered a little, for in the last twenty-four hours he had had the fright of his life.
The doctor, who had been doing something in the other room, entered in time to catch the last words.
"There was never any likelihood of that, you goop," he said, cheerfully. "Now, you've seen all there is to be seen, and you'd better run away and play." He led his charge firmly to the door. "Go to bed," he advised him in kindly accents; "you look all in."
"I'm all right," said Peter. "I haven't been doing anything. And look here--" He stabbed a belligerent finger in the direction of the adjoining room. "Tell those nurses of yours, if I want to pick my son up, I'll pick him up. If his mother wants to kiss him, she can kiss him. I'll have none of your infernal hygiene in my house."
"Very well," said the doctor, "just as you like. Anything for a quiet life. I rather believe in a few healthy germs myself. Builds up resistance. No, thanks, I won't have a drink. I've got to go to another one, and an alcoholic breath impairs confidence."
"Another one?" said Peter, aghast.
"One of my hospital mothers. You're not the only fish in the sea by a long chalk. One born every minute."
"God! What a world." They passed down the great curved stair. In the hall a sleepy footman clung, yawning, to his post of duty.
"All right, William," said Peter. "Buzz off now; I'll lock up." He let the doctor out. "Good night--and thanks very much, old man. I'm sorry I swore at you."
"They mostly do," replied the doctor philosophically. "Well, bung-ho, Flim. I'll look in again later, just to earn my fee, but I shan't be wanted. You've married into a good tough family, and I congratulate you."

It was thus that [Peter] saw the policeman.
"Morning, officer."
"Morning, sir."
"I've got a son."
"Oh, ah! Your first, eh?"
"And last, if I know anything about it."