The magistrate adjusted his spectacles. “That sounds like a guilty plea,” he said.

Chobie, still standing, spoke again, ignoring the policeman who was tugging at his shirt, urging him to sit down. “This one here”—he gestured to Fanwell—“this one didn’t know the car was stolen, Rra. I am the one who did it. I am very sorry.”

The magistrate sighed. He looked at the prosecutor, who was busily conferring with Chobie’s lawyer. “It seems that this is going to need a bit of sorting out,” he said. “I shall adjourn the court for fifteen minutes while the State decides what to do. But it seems to me as if it might be an idea to dismiss the charges against accused No. 2.” He paused. “A cursory examination of the papers seems to point that way. And if accused No. 1 is saying that accused No. 2 had no knowledge of the fact that the car was stolen, then that rather changes things, doesn’t it, Mr. Prosecutor?” He then answered his own question. “Frankly, this is a bit of a mess, and I propose to dismiss the charges against accused No. 2. We can come back to deal with accused No. 1’s revised plea in a quarter of an hour. No. 2 is discharged. You can go, young man. You, No. 1, you stay.”

They went outside. As she left the building, Mma Makutsi ran out into the sun and uttered the traditional ululation of delight that women contribute to any great Botswana occasion. Mma Ramotswe would have joined her, had she not been busy explaining to a shocked and shivering Fanwell that his ordeal was over.

“I cannot believe it,” stuttered Fanwell. “What has happened?”

Fanwell’s lawyer shuffled his papers about officiously. “A very satisfactory result,” he said. “I am very pleased with this case.”

“But what happened, Rra?” asked Fanwell. “How did you get me off?”

Mma Ramotswe watched the lawyer, who hesitated momentarily. She realised that he had no idea, but she did not want to spoil his moment of victory. This, she thought, was probably the first case he had won for a long time—if ever.

“You just thank your lawyer,” she said to Fanwell. “The important thing is that he has won your case for you. That is what counts.”

“Yes,” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, reaching out to shake the lawyer’s hand. “Well done, Rra.”

The lawyer beamed. “Thank you, Rra. These cases can be difficult, but I am very glad that this young man can return to his work without a spot on his reputation.”

They made their way to the vehicles. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, Charlie, and Fanwell drove back in the truck, followed by Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi in the tiny white van. It was a small procession, but no great march, no Roman triumph could have matched it for sheer joy, or relief.