There's only one thing worse than knowing what's going on, and that's not knowing when something obviously is, especially when you're utterly convinced that whatever it is that everybody is keeping to themselves, it concerns you. Like that letter addressed to your wife in masculine handwriting you don't recognise which she giggles at all through breakfast and looks you straight in the eye, stops laughing and stuffs it in her handbag. Or, there's that unhappy moment in the office when your immediate superior is called in to the boss. After half an hour he comes out, pats you on the shoulder, goes back to his desk and never says another word. For the rest of your career you'll never know whether he just talked you out of promotion or the sack. C.P.O. Pertwee is in this particular dilemma at the moment. He wants to know why Number One has been hastily summoned to Captain Povey's Office this morning. Something regrettable is going to drop on somebody, and the Chief is determined to know what, on who, where, why, who by and when.