“You can explain it to the judge,” said Sergeant Rowan. “Now we get on to the really interesting stuff. Damage to private property. Theft of a privately owned vehicle. Driving without a proper license. Driving without insurance. Speeding. Theft of a police vehicle. They’re going to throw away the key for you, Sonny Jim. They’ll put you away for so long that by the time you get out we’ll all be living on other planets.”

Nurd folded his arms. He whistled, scratched his pointy chin, then tapped his fingers against it, all of which served to communicate the following message: Hmm, I’m thinking here, and I seem to have spotted a fatal flaw in all that you’ve just told me.

“Forgive me for pointing this out, officers, but I wasn’t aware that you had jurisdiction in Hell. Biddlecombe: yes. Hell: I think not.”

“Got you there, Sergeant,” said Jolly, sticking his oar in and splashing it about merrily. “Old Moonface is a bit of a jailhouse lawyer.”

“You keep quiet,” said Constable Peel. “You lot are in enough trouble of your own.”

“Oooh,” said Dozy. “Make sure you add ‘stealing ice cream’ to our list of charges. We’ll get life for that.”

“Listen, you,” said Sergeant Rowan, wagging his finger at Nurd and doing his best to ignore the Greek chorus31 of dwarfs, “you have a lot to answer for. You need to come down to the station and explain yourself.”

“You know, I’d actually be happy to do that,” said Nurd. “Unfortunately, I, like you, am stuck here in Hell, and there are more pressing problems to consider.”

“Such as?”

“You’re not the only humans in Hell.”

“What do you mean? Who else is here?”

“Samuel Johnson and his dog.”

Sergeant Rowan frowned. Nurd could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. Sergeant Rowan had been one of the first on the scene after the portal closed, but he’d never managed to find out the full story. He only knew that Samuel had effectively saved the Earth, aided by an unknown person in a stolen Aston Martin who—

Who had bravely driven it into the portal, causing it to collapse.

Sergeant Rowan took a few steps forward and examined the moving rock. More particularly, he examined the wheels of the rock, and then peered into the interior of the disguised car.

“Constable Peel, do you still have your notebook open?” he said.

“Yes, Sarge.”

“You know that page you’ve just filled with all of the charges against Mr. Nurd here?”

“Yes, Sarge. I’ve written them all down very neatly, in case the judge wants to read them for himself.”

“Tear it out and throw it away, there’s a good lad.”

“But—”

“No buts. Just do as I say.”

With considerable reluctance, Constable Peel did as he was told. He tore the page into little pieces and dropped them on the ground.