Readers:  Please read Parts One and Two, or at least Part Two, which were posted yesterday.

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The next day . . .

          I received the anticipated "debriefing call," at noon.

          "Well?  How'd it go?"

          I told her what happened . . . in three brief sentences and less than 10 seconds.

          "You're kidding," she said.

           "Come on," I said, "you were a magistrate.  You know when someone comes in and tells such a preposterous story, you have NO choice other than conclude it's true."

           Her voice rose in both pitch and volume.  "Well . . . THEN what happened?"

           "He yelled over his shoulder as he hopped one leg at a time into his pants, 'Ya' know what I think?  I think you're gay and you just don't know it, yet!'"

           She broke into a fit of coughing so violent I heard her husband's footfalls as he crossed the room to pound her on the back.  I held the receiver away from my ear for almost a minute, as he returned with a glass of water.  I waited as she drank, spluttered and coughed again.

           "Even YOU coudn't have made this one up," she finally said.

           You're right . . . I didn't . . .