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Agnes nodded, and still giggling, fled to the house.
    Sergeant Coulter walked back to her father.
    ‘I’ll look after it, Mr Duncan. I’ll call in later.’
    Under interrogation, Barnaby denied knowledge of either the broken windows or the sullied Iron Duke.
    ‘I see,’ said Sergeant Coulter. ‘Perhaps your little friend knows. I stopped in at Mrs Nielsen’s on my way here, but there was no one home.’
    ‘She’s out, they’re delivering the bread,’ said Barnaby.
    ‘I see. Well, I’ll speak to her later. You run along now, I want to speak to Mr and Mrs Brooks.’
    Barnaby got as far as the door, stopped and turned.
    ‘Changed your mind?’ said Sergeant Coulter. ‘Care to tell me what you know?’
    ‘I don’t know anything,’ said Barnaby. And then, with an insolent grin, ‘You wouldn’t want me to say I did it, if I didn’t, would you?’
    ‘I wouldn’t like you to tell a lie, Barnaby.’ Sergeant Coulter leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette. ‘Still, you should know that Lady Syddyns saw you breaking the windows.’
    ‘Maybe she’s a liar.’
    ‘Maybe. And,’ Sergeant Coulter blew a smoke ring and gazed at it meditatively, ‘and maybe there is blue paint on your hands.’
    Barnaby raised his hands, stared and ran from the store.
    When Sergeant Coulter rang the bell on the counter Mr Brooks, looking more than ever like Alice’s rabbit, poked his white head through the beaded curtains.
    ‘I’d like a few words with you please. It’s about Barnaby.’
    Mrs Brooks joined them.
    ‘We couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, Sergeant. I am sure there is some logical explanation. Barnaby is
not
a bad boy, please believe us when we say we know.’
    ‘Perhaps not,’ Sergeant Coulter stared at his boots. ‘But, nevertheless he does these things.’ He paused and gazed at the end of his cigarette. ‘I think perhaps the best thing to do would be for us to hold a little meeting, and discuss Barnaby. You, Mrs Nielsen, Mr Duncan, Lady Syddyns. I’ll see if maybe I can get Mr Rice-Hope to come over, perhaps he’ll have some advice.’
    The Brookses nodded meekly. Sergeant Coulter, in his official capacity, terrified them.
    ‘Would this afternoon be all right?’
    They nodded again.
    ‘Very well. Two-thirty?’ He touched the brim of his hat and left them.
    At two-thirty that afternoon, they were all gathered at the store. Crime was unknown on the Island and the case of the Crown
vs
. Barnaby was an important incident in their lives. Even Mr Rice-Hope, the minister from the neighbouring island of Benares, made a special trip.
    Mrs Nielsen volunteered the information that Christie had been present on both occasions. She offered to pay half the cost of the glass for the greenhouse, since she was being paid for Christie’s board and the child was a small eater. She also suggested that Mr Duncan try paint remover on the Iron Duke.
    Mr and Mrs Brooks, more disturbed by the stigma of the law than the amount of money involved, were only too glad to pay for the other half of the glass.
    Mr Duncan, moustaches still bristling at the outrage suffered by the Iron Duke, had no comments to make except that he did not wish to find Barnaby on his property again. Then, mumbling darkly that certain persons were born to be hanged, he jammed his hat on his head and stalked out.
    ‘Really!’ Mrs Brooks reached for her digitalis. ‘Really! I never would have expected Mr Duncan to take such an attitude. Why, that bull is dangerous and the child might have been killed. Sydney, did you notice he was only concerned with the bull? He didn’t even mention the danger to Barnaby. That bull should be kept in a barn away from children.’
    Sergeant Coulter stared down at her in disbelief. Not a word of censure to Barnaby for his actions. Merely worried that the little bastard was endangering his precious life.
    ‘Now look here,’ he said, ‘I’m not satisfied about this yet. That boy is going to stay off