Perspective.' He nodded and swung an arm out over his property. 'You see that tree. Just beyond the tennis courts.' I could hardly miss it. A gnarled old monster taller than the house, casting shade over an area the size of a tennis court in itself. I nodded. 'That tree is over seven hundred years old. When I bought this property, I hired a design engineer and he wanted to chop it down. He was planning to build the house further up the rise and the tree was spoiling the sea view. I sacked him.' Bancroft turned to make sure his point was getting across. 'You see, Mr Kovacs, that engineer was a man in his thirties, and to him the tree was just an inconvenience. It was in his way. The fact it had been part of the world for over twenty times the length of his own life didn't seem to bother him. He had no respect.' 'So you're the tree.' 'Just so,' said Bancroft equably. 'I am the tree. The police would like to chop me down, just like that engineer. I am inconvenient to them, and they have no respect.