A small slab hut stood some twenty yards away. In the open doorway, a young woman wearing a sun-faded blouse, a long, full skirt and a sun bonnet was holding a sweeping brush in a defensive manner.

‘Shoo. Shoo.’

‘I can’t see it,’ whispered Matthew, peering over Luke’s shoulder.

‘Leave this to me.’

He strolled forwards. ‘Good morning, madam. I don’t suppose you’ve seen our rabbit?’

She looked up angrily. ‘Yours, was it? Then you can pay me for the dish it knocked out of my hands.’

‘I shall be delighted to do so just as soon as we have apprehended the miscreant.’

She stared at him suspiciously. ‘You making a joke?’

‘I can assure you I am not.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Police, madam.’

‘I don’t think they’ve been formed yet,’ whispered Matthew.

Luke rounded on him. ‘What? Why not?’

They were given no time to investigate this unforgiveable lapse on the part of Australia.

‘Are you them thieving tinkers back again?’

‘Er . . .’ said Luke.

She raised her broom threateningly. It would seem the broken dish had not put her in a good mood. They backed away and out of sight.

‘Let’s try down here,’ said Luke. ‘The undergrowth’s so thorny it’ll probably stick to the path.’

They set off at a trot and the first thing they saw was a small child, probably belonging to the house they had just left. The child was struggling to support a net-entangled and very large, fat, white rabbit. So large and fat that it was possible there was more rabbit than child. It hung heavily in her arms, its legs dangling.

Matthew nudged Luke. ‘Go and get it.’

‘Not likely. Suppose it bites me. They’re poisonous, you know.’

‘Rabbits aren’t poisonous.’

‘I meant the kid.’

‘Just get it, will you? Haven’t you ever heard the expression taking candy from a baby?’

Somewhat nervously, Luke approached the child, who had obviously been well coached in the 19th-century equivalent of Stranger Danger.

It opened its mouth and screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

Luke halted. ‘Um, it’s all right, little . . . um . . .’ He stared at the child, looking for clues as to gender.

‘Don’t cry, little . . . um . . .’ He reached out a tentative hand.

The child moved to DEFCON 2.

Luke staggered backwards, clutching his hand. ‘It bit me,’ he said in disbelief. ‘The bloody kid bit me.’

The rabbit leaped to the ground. The child screamed again. Ear-splittingly.

‘Sod the rabbit,’ said Matthew, grabbing his arm. ‘Run. Before they do us for child molesting.’

They ran, crashing through the undergrowth. Spiky bushes tore at their clothing. They could hear distant shouts and the sounds of people running towards them. The child continued to scream.