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Gut. Now, he reflected, as Police Constable Howells recited the familiar story of wickedness, there would be rather more leeway to make up.
    ‘Disgusting,‘ pronounced Sir Lancelot. ‘Here are you, a registered medical practitioner, into whose hands unmerciful Providence has delivered the lives of this community, and you go hurtling about the countryside as though there were gross unemployment among coroners.‘
    ‘I think I can explain, sir — Your Worship.‘
    ‘Please do,‘ invited Sir Lancelot promptly.
    ‘I was on my way to a maternity case.‘
    ‘That does put rather a different light on it,‘ conceded Miss Morgan-Griffiths.
    ‘Rubbish. The good doctor sees he‘s given plenty of warning. Damn it, madam, the thing doesn‘t come out like a Polaris missile. Five pounds, licence endorsed,‘ Sir Lancelot ended briskly, ‘and I sincerely trust, young man, I shall not be seeing you here again. Next case.‘
    Timothy Aldous Tolly,‘ sang up the Clerk‘s voice.
    ‘No, we‘ve just had him.‘
    ‘Timothy Aldous Tolly,‘ repeated the Clerk.
    ‘Good grief,‘ muttered Sir Lancelot, ‘the man‘s a confirmed criminal.‘ It w as Police Constable Rees who took up the tale of lawlessness.
    ‘I do wish people would realize that parking their cars for hall an hour in the middle of the High Street on a busy Saturday morning is just as antisocial as laying sleepers across railway lines, and on occasion equally dangerous,‘ pronounced Sir Lancelot. ‘The country is paved with official car parks, but the younger generation seems totally incapable of walking more than twenty yards at a stretch. No wonder everyone‘s arteries resemble the stems of clay pipes.‘
    ‘I think I can explain, Your Worship,‘ Tim tried again.
    ‘Please do.‘
    ‘I had my bag with me. I was calling on a bed-ridden patient to administer an injection of intravenous iron.‘
    ‘Ah, an errand of mercy,‘ observed Mr Evans, with another glance in the direction of the Recording Angel.
    ‘Nonsense. If you take half an hour to get a needle into a vein, young man, you ought to be struck from the medical Register. As it is, I shall merely fine you forty shillings. Next case.‘
    ‘Timothy Aldous Tolly,‘ continued the Clerk.
    Trespassing, I see,‘ murmured Mr Evans, eyeing his list.
    ‘Had‘ Sir Lancelot rubbed his hands. ‘Now we‘re getting somewhere!‘ The case was in fact viewed by Sir Lancelot with strict impartiality, the prosecutor being a bad-tempered local farmer whom he disliked almost as much as he did Dr Tolly. He listened to the evidence in silence, but the black thoughts which had retired to the edge of his mind came scudding back thickly across his consciousness.
    ‘One moment — ‘ Sir Lancelot held up a hand. ‘Let us recapitulate. It appears, Tolly, you were encountered by the landowner on four separate occasions beside, if you please, a board announcing “Trespassers Will be Prosecuted”. You were making your way across his fields at quarter to seven in the morning?‘
    ‘Yes, Your Worship,‘ agreed Tim meekly.
    ‘An hour, Tolly, when you might consider yourself unlucky to meet anyone?‘
    ‘I - I suppose so, Your Worship.‘
    ‘Do you know where that path leads to, Tolly? To one spot, Witches‘ Pool. It brings me to suspect you were about to embark on the very much more serious crime of poaching.‘
    ‘Of course I wasn‘t.‘ Tim bit his lip. ‘I didn‘t even have a fishing-rod, did I?‘
    ‘Naturally,‘ rounded Sir Lancelot, like one of those tedious lawyers who always win on the telly, ‘you hid it under the hawthorn bush, as have several generations of local poachers.‘
    ‘But I don‘t even own a rod!‘ Tim burst out. ‘And as a matter of fact I think fishing is a pretty stupid pastime altogether, Your Worship.‘
    ‘Oh?‘ Sir Lancelot‘s beard jutted at him like the firing squad getting down to business. ‘Then what were you doing by Witches‘ Pool at that early hour?‘
    ‘I — I