‘They were going to drive the bulldozer into the cemetery!’ said Yo-less.

‘Right in the huff, look!’

‘Dear me, I expect a bit more than this of United Consolidated,’ said Mr Atterbury. ‘Hadn’t we better see to your friend?’

Bigmac was kneeling on the ground, making small ‘oof, oof’ noises.

‘I’ll have to keep huffing on it to keep them there, mind!’

‘You all right, Bigmac?’

They knelt down beside him. He was wheezing with his asthma.

‘I . . . I really frightened him . . . yeah?’ he managed.

‘Right, right,’ said Johnny. ‘Come on, we’ll give you a hand up . . .’

‘I jus’ saw them there—’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Jus’ winded.’

‘Hang on, I’ve got to go and huff on it again—’

‘Help him into the car.’

‘’S’all right—’

‘I’ll drive him to the hospital, just in case.’

‘No!’

Bigmac pushed them away, and rose unsteadily to his feet.

‘’m all right,’ he said. ‘Tough as old boots, me.’

Red and blue lights bloomed in the fog and a police siren dee-dahed once or twice and then stopped out of embarrassment.

‘Ah,’ said Mr Atterbury. ‘I rather think my wife got a bit excited about things and phoned the police. Er . . . Bigmac, isn’t it? Would you recognize those men if you saw them again?’

‘Sure. One of ’em’s got teethmarks in his ear.’ Bigmac suddenly had the hunted look of one who has never quite seen eye to eye with the constabulary. ‘But I ain’t going in any police station. No way.’

Mr Atterbury straightened up as the police car crunched to a halt.

‘I think it might be a good idea if I do most of the talking,’ he said, when Sergeant Comely stepped out into the night. ‘Ah, Ray,’ he said. ‘Glad you could drop by. Can I have a word?’

The boys stood in a huddle, watching as the men walked over to the bulldozer, and then inspected the remains of the wall.

‘We’re going to be in trouble,’ said Bigmac. ‘Old Comely’s probably going to do me for ear-biting. Or pinching the bulldozer. You wait.’

Wobbler tapped Johnny on the shoulder.

‘You knew something was going to happen,’ he said.

‘Yes. Don’t know how.’

They watched the policemen peer into Mr Atterbury’s car for a moment.

‘He’s reading my huff,’ said Wobbler. ‘That was lateral thinking, that was.’

Then Comely went back to the police car. They heard him speaking into the radio.

‘No! I say again. That’s H for Hirsute, W for Wagner – Wagner! Wagner! No! W as in Westphalia, A for Aardvark—’

Mr Atterbury appeared from the direction of the bulldozer, waving a pair of pliers.

‘I don’t think it’s going to move again tonight,’ he said.

‘What’s going to happen?’ said Johnny.

‘Not sure. We can probably trace the van. I think I’ve persuaded Sergeant Comely that we ought to deal with this quietly, for now. He’ll take statements from you, though. That might be enough.’