o 1 e<br > The police car slid quietly down the long， empty street<br > The widely-spaced lighting left pools o[bJackp~e~:c，n;o，，.~，j，<br > 6et ween the overhead standards.<br > "~reepy sor~ o~ p lace，~~ said Detective Sergeant Bran-<br > nigan.<br > "More cheerful by daylight，" agreed Detective Con-<br > stable Wrangle. He was driving the car.<br > "Pull up for a moment. I want to have a look."<br > The roadway was enclosed on both sides by a wooden<br >wall made of ten-foot planks set vertically in tile ground<br >and held together by rows of metal strip. The bottom of<br >tile fence was buried in a thick belt of marram grass.<br >Alder and thorn， tile trees that grow quickest when men<br >depart， had pushed their shoots through the cracks and<br >were already tall enough to top the wall.<br > "Been like this long?"<br > "Long as I can remember，" said Wrangle. "Must be<br >more n six years since they shut the East Docks."<br > "What used to be there?"<br >