‘I shall drive you both back to The Crow’s Nest in my carriage,’ the kindly doctor informed her. ‘As I’ve pointed out, Mr Greenwood is hardly in any condition to try to escape and he needs more care than I’m able to give him while he’s locked up in here.’

It took almost half an hour for the doctor and the sergeant to manhandle Barnaby up the stairs and into the doctor’s carriage, and by then the colour had drained from his face and his lips had turned a frightening shade of pale blue.

‘I was hoping you’d make an official statement before you left,’ the sergeant grumbled once they’d managed to get him as comfortable as possible in the carriage. ‘And I will of course hold you personally responsible if he does try to run away. And myself or one of my officers will be visiting every day to check on his progress.’

Amber stared at him in disgust. ‘Come as often as you please and does he really look capable of running anywhere?’ she spat sarcastically. ‘And as for the statement, I’ve already told you what happened. My story will be no different this mornin’ to what it was last night! I ain’t in the habit o’ tellin’ lies an’ I’m tellin’ you, Barnaby did not stab Bertie. The knife that Bertie cut my face with was sent flyin’ when the two of ’em were fightin’ afore they went over the edge o’ the cliff. So can I please take him home now?’

‘Er, yes, yes of course.’ The sergeant stood to one side as the doctor climbed into the driver’s seat and Amber scrambled into the back to cradle her husband’s head in her lap.

As it rattled away the sergeant offered up a silent prayer that he had done the right thing. There was one thing for sure – his head would be on the block if he hadn’t, but there was nothing he could do about it now, so with a sigh he turned and went back into the small police station.

Once they arrived back at the house, Mrs Jennings, Amber and the doctor somehow managed to get Barnaby inside and into bed although the journey had clearly taken its toll on him and he looked ghastly. His face was the colour of putty, with sweat running down his cheeks.

‘Get that window open an’ get some air to him,’ Mrs Jennings said bossily. ‘Then he’ll need bathin’ with cool water. Do you think you can manage?’

Amber nodded wearily, although she felt dreadful herself. ‘Of course.’