To encourage someone to believe that crime pays may not be in itself a crime but it is certainly reprehensible and I fear that to my shame I am guilty of it.

I sat in the garden yesterday while the potential purchasers visited the premises.  At one point from the far end of the garden mummy sent her oldest little treasure over to me.  He held out a shiny object and asked if it was mine.

“Ah” said I. “It’s a foreign coin.  It’s Brazilian and I visited Brazil a couple of years ago, so it could well be mine.  Where did you find it?”

“Under our car.”

“Strange” thought I.  “How did it get there?” I continued to think. “The last time I saw one of those I’m sure it was in the top drawer of my desk.” 

But would I be forgiven for at the very least embarrassing, and probably causing to flee, these people who were in the market for a holiday home by crying out “Your son is a liar and a thief”?

“No” I said to myself.  “Think of Sally and David and keep schtoom.” And to his delight I said “Would you like to keep it?”

He raced off happily, no doubt reassured about his career choice.