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judge’ll buy that, do you?’ the policeman on Seth’s left said scornfully. ‘The three of you are going down the line, make up your minds about that.’ He jerked his head towards his companion. ‘Interesting what we found on him when he was out cold, eh?’
    ‘Very interesting.’
    As Seth’s hand went instinctively to his trouser leg and the hidden compartment where he kept his knife, the first policeman laughed. ‘Too late, son. Much too late.’
    Seth’s lower jaw moved from one side to the other but he said nothing. They had him, sure enough, but if his brothers played their cards right they might still walk away. Someone needed to take care of things at home.
    He was still thinking this way right up to the moment the next morning when he was taken out of his cold miserable cell in the bowels of the police station. He was flanked by two policemen and led up a flight of stone steps into a narrow corridor which had several doors opening on to it. One of the policemen opened the first one and pushed him into a small, windowless room which had a bench attached to one wall. The only other furniture consisted of a square wooden table behind which two policemen were sitting on large padded chairs. He knew immediately that these were not ordinary flatfoots but men of authority, even before one of them said, ‘Seth Croft, isn’t it? I’m Inspector Taylor and this is Sergeant Atkinson. I hope you don’t intend to waste our time.’
    The two policemen who had escorted him from the cells had gone to stand by the door, leaving him in the middle of the room facing his inquisitors. He turned and glanced at their impassive faces before staring at the two men sitting. The Inspector had spoken in what Seth would have described as a la-di-dah voice, but when the Sergeant said, ‘Well, lad? Going to make a clean breast of it, I hope?’ the Northern burr was strong.
    Seth’s head was still pounding and he felt sick to the depths of his stomach, but his voice was steady. ‘Clean breast of what?’
    ‘The little matter of certain valuables taken from Highgrave House being found stuffed up the chimney in your bedroom, along with other objects we know to be stolen. That’s what.’ The Sergeant paused. ‘It’s no use denying it, lad. The knife even matches the description of the one used by the three assailants to threaten the butler.’
    Seth returned the man’s stare but said nothing.
    ‘If you’re canny you’ll plead guilty and save us all a lot of time. Always goes down well with the judge, a guilty plea. He don’t like folk trying to mess him about, any more than we do.’
    All through the long night hours when he’d been chilled to the marrow and feeling like death, Seth had thought about what he was going to say. Now it came easily. ‘Aye, well, it looks like you know it all, but you’ve got it wrong about me brothers. I was with two other blokes, but Fred and Walt aren’t involved in this.’
    ‘Oh, come, Mr Croft.’ The Inspector’s smooth voice suggested amusement. ‘Do we look as though we were born yesterday?’
    ‘It’s the truth.’
    ‘Your brothers accompanied you on that spree and others.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘They are your partners in crime in every way.’
    ‘No, they aren’t.’ He appealed to the Sergeant. ‘They aren’t, I swear it. He’s got it wrong.’
    ‘Tell him.’ The Inspector looked briefly at his colleague. ‘I haven’t got all day.’
    Tell him? Tell him what? As Seth stared at the Sergeant, fear gripped his vitals.
    ‘We had a tip-off, lad. About you and your brothers. They put you down for the Highgrave job and two others. I’d say you’ve upset someone, someone who knew a mite too much for your good.’
    McArthur. Seth’s stomach turned over. Somehow McArthur had found out about the couple of recent jobs they’d done on their own. But how could he? They’d been careful, dead careful. They hadn’t even tried to get rid of the stuff through the normal channels,