The phalanx of policeman ended up being just a big group of philistines.
This was painfully obvious when the great Mona Lisa was splattered by orange juice and not but a phelgmatic expression was seen. One of them made a pithy comment about pulp-free, thinking the simple-minded plebians could simply not comprehend.
Obviously, polemics began to fire across the room.
"You..!" screamed a plucky old woman who pushed her way to the front of the mob. Phegmatic expressions remained.
When it was obvious that the police were unphased, a quiet gentleman politely walked forward and attempted a more politic approach. "That," he posited, "was a very nice painting, and we are deeply upset that it has been tainted by a rather acidic juice."
"No more of this meaningless prattle," replied a very stolid policeman. "I don't need a precis. I understand completely the nature of the situation."
* * * * * * *
The story suddenly prevaricated. I knew Jack's honest nature was thrown to the back burner as he told the police that Jill had run the other way. It was a prescient decision
