short story by Humphrey ap Evans . the assessor . yes , said Mr Ridley , taking off a pair of very thick rimless glasses and wiping them over with a monogrammed handkerchief . you have to be a student of human nature to be any good as an assessor - any good to the company , that is , he added . without appearing to be unhelpful or hard-hearted , you &apos;ve just got to cut the claims as low as you can . he replaced his glasses , turning them upside down and swivelling the earpieces round . of course I &apos;ve been in this a long time now , he went on , and although I know there &apos;s a lot of rot talked about a sixth sense and all that , I think I have got something that helps me size a thing up pretty well . not every case who comes before you is trying it on , you know , but most of them are out for what they can get . and who would n&apos;t be ? he asked , turning round and looking me full in the face , through his upside down glasses . his eyes appeared enormous when one looked back at him , like watery amoeba in a microscope . I began to feel a bit amoebic myself , almost as if it were I who had been found trying it on . yes , of course , I agreed hurriedly . but many of your cases must be really deserving ones , are n&apos;t they ? I mean , bread-winners disabled with mouths to feed , and all that sort of thing ? ah , yes , there is a bit of that , of course , he said , but we usually have some confidential reports beforehand which give a good idea . I &apos;m a medical man myself though : I used to be a G.P in the midlands before I went over whole time as claims assessor . they do n&apos;t know I &apos;m a medico when they come up before me . I get some yarns spun me sometimes , I can tell you . he chuckled moistly , clouding his reversible glasses which had to be removed again for demisting . you take this case this afternoon , that I &apos;ve come up about . if this chap &apos;s shoulder - his right shoulder , too - if it &apos;s as bad as he says , then of course he will n&apos;t be able to work at all with his right hand or arm - perhaps never again , which is a serious thing for a family man with seven young children . I can n&apos;t go making mistakes , can I ? his employers have been sued for &amp;pound;10,000 - loss of potential earnings , inconvenience , suffering - all the usual claims trotted out . it &apos;s a bit easier when you &apos;ve got a chap with something you can actually see that &apos;s wrong . it &apos;s these fellows with loss of concentration or intermittent headaches or recurrent depression that are the most difficult . how can you prove loss of concentration ? he does n&apos;t have to prove he ever could concentrate . that &apos;s one of the little problems I have to sort out . headaches are the same - nothing to go on or prove either way . a bad headache &apos;s a rotten thing , of course , if you really have one . what about the recurrent depressions ? I said . well , he replied , that &apos;s difficult too . it &apos;s easy to go about with a long face saying how terrible everything is , and who &apos;s to say he does n&apos;t really feel perfectly all right ? we pondered this situation for a moment or two in silence . as a new member of this department of insurance , I was being sent round by the company to have a first-hand look at the way the assessor worked . Mr Ridley was reckoned a wizard at the job . they said he saved the firm tens of thousands of pounds a year , but nobody knew just how he managed it . I was looking forward to seeing him in action . I had heard a lot about his psychology angle , but could not see how this would help in most of the cases . the case up that afternoon had claimed that because the management had not allowed a wide enough passageway between two machines he had banged against one of them , seriously affecting his whole nervous system down the right side of his body . he could , he claimed , only raise his right arm to elbow level very slowly and with great difficulty , and higher than his elbow , it would not go at all . he had already been off work for a month , and the arm had not responded to treatment , much to the surprise of the doctors . it had in fact got gradually worse , according to the man himself . he needed help to put on his clothes , and had been obliged to learn to do all manner of things with his left hand when he was not the least bit left-handed , naturally . his wife would have to give up her evening work to look after him : that meant a regular allowance out of the insurance to compensate her . he would need some form of electric tricycle to get him about , and a small garage built to house it . the injury , he had been told by a friend , might easily spread to his legs , and in view of the worry about this , the sum of &amp;pound;10,000 would probably be quite inadequate . his statement of basis of claim ran to three sides of foolscap dictated by me and written by my wife , owing to the injury what prevents my writing . Mr Ridley was unperturbed by this voluminous evidence of the state of the man &apos;s injuries . I &apos;m afraid it does n&apos;t seem quite right to me somehow , he said , pulling off the glasses yet again . it was a very irritating gesture : perhaps , I thought , he did it deliberately to put his cases off their guard , to take their minds off themselves and to give themselves away . you see , if he really is as bad as he says , the sensitivity of some nerves would be bound to be affected at the finger extremities even supposing there has been no bruising of tissue . the doctors apparently can find nothing actually wrong . it &apos;s only that he maintains he can not raise his arm . when it was raised up quickly by a doctor when he was n&apos;t expecting it , he let out such a scream that the wretched doctor thought he had torn the arm right off ! after that , they have been a bit chary about wrenching it up and down . however , he added after a minute or two , I think it &apos;s time we went over and saw for ourselves . come along with me . we walked across to the assessment office and up into Mr Ridley &apos;s room . there was nothing particular about it . just the usual desk ( back to the light of course ) , a couple of chairs , a reading chart on the wall , and a bookcase about six feet tall with a few papers and other oddments on it . Mr Ridley spoke to the attendant : send Mr Alton in now , would you please ? a few moments passed . then there was a shuffling outside on the linoleum , and the door opened . Mr Alton &apos;s left hand pushed at the handle , for his right arm was hanging dejectedly at his side , patently useless and perhaps even causing pain . ah , Mr Alton , come in , how do you do ? smiled Mr Ridley holding out a hand . the limp right arm quivered , but quick as a flash the sturdy remaining left hand took its place for a brave handshake . I &apos;ve been thinking your case over , said Mr Ridley , sitting down at once at his desk , leaving Mr Alton standing without a chair . it is certainly one of the most unfortunate I have come across and our hearts go out to you and your family in this serious blow . I think &amp;pound;15,000 is the least we can reasonably offer in compensation , and if you are agreeable to this , I am authorized to write you a cheque this very minute in full settlement , without ado . after rubbing his glasses as usual , Mr Ridley pulled out a fountain pen , took the cap off and briskly prepared to write . Mr Alton evidently could hardly believe his ears , mercifully unaffected by his injury . he could only nod his agreement . yes , I think that would do very well , he managed after a moment when power of speech returned . right then , said Mr Ridley , pen at the ready . just hand me down my cheque book from that bookcase , will you , and we &apos;ll get it cleared up . alas for poor Mr Alton . I did feel a little sorry for him . the bookcase was on his right . from the top , the bright blue cheque book was plainly visible . a step forward , and Mr Alton &apos;s arm - his right arm , that poor injured right arm upon whose failing strength a wife and many small children had depended for their daily bread - swung up as easily and quickly as that of a policeman on point duty . rapid fingers closed upon the beckoning cheque book with new found health . he was halfway to Mr Ridley &apos;s desk before the awful implication of his action dawned upon Mr Alton . his face went scarlet , then drained . tiny beads of sweat appeared . he turned and left the room without a word . you see what I mean , said Mr Ridley , as he put the cap back on his unused pen . the study of human nature is a great help in this profession . short story by Nat Easton . the way of escape . the wind had slapped the notice so hard and often you had to lean with it to read the faded letters , unfit for motorists . I smiled , patting the weather-roughened wood . I slipped the car off the track onto the moor , left it behind the V-shaped ruin of an old stone barn - pointing back the way I &apos;d come . light hearted , sure of myself somehow in my completely new outfit , I walked to the edge of the great heather brow and looked down its tumbling slopes to the sea below . for several minutes I stood there , just wishing and willing , and taking in the spread of land and ocean , then I slithered into the scoured out track and plunged downwards eagerly . the banks were high , the surface like a forgotten river bed - dry , bread-coloured mud and stones the years had smoothed but not budged . about halfway down , a path of bare , trodden soil led to a gate in a high privet hedge . I stopped , looking over at it , pep-talking myself , then braced up and went forward . the bungalow was as neat a piece of transplanted suburbia as a man could imagine . the path was concrete , straight as a railway line . on each side there was a shaved square of lawn the size of a blanket with a round bed of roses in the middle of it , slap in the middle . each lawn was overlooked by a bay window , one packed with red geraniums . a wire basket of flowers hung over the front door . the glass of the windows and the leaded door panel shone as though the leather had just left it . the green and cream paintwork took a bath regularly . I poked a gloved finger into the copper letter box and raised the flap . the corridor hall was laid with polished orange and brown linoleum , covered down the middle with a runner of plain beige carpet , like a continuation of the path . the hall-stand held one umbrella , impeccably furled , one horn-handled walking-stick , a heavy raincoat on a hanger , a series of crisp trilbies and a check cap . beyond that the shadows took over . I lowered the flap gently and side-stepped to the bay window on the left . squinting through the geraniums I saw a green three-piece suite , a bureau , dining table and chairs of dark oak , a red leather tufty , and one of those modern cut-down pianos . the empty fireplace was shielded by a blue hydrangea in a pot that had been painted green . above the tobacco jar on the chimney-piece six pipes hung from a rack . the seventh slot was vacant . there were two letters in the middle of the table , one under a heavy glass paper-weight . 