Harold, theatrical tears now in his eyes, pointed an accusing finger at Jack. ‘He took it. He took my silver locket!’

The chief constable pulled Jack’s shirt aside and ripped the locket from his neck.

‘That’s mine!’ shouted Jack, reaching desperately for the only link he had to Jess. ‘Harold’s lying. He’s the thief! He –’

Jack was cut short by a jarring punch to his jaw and knocked to the ground. As he lay on the packed earthen floor of the market hall, his head ringing, the bailiff questioned Harold. ‘This is a fine piece, sir,’ he began. ‘Can you prove your ownership of it?’

‘Yes,’ Harold replied confidently. ‘If you care to look inside, the locket has a portrait of my sweetheart inside. She has hair like golden wheat and eyes as blue as the midsummer sky.’

The bailiff inspected the miniature painting inside. ‘I have no reason not to believe you,’ he declared, handing Harold the locket. ‘Here, keep her safe from now on.’

‘Why, thank you,’ said Harold, inclining his head respectfully and pocketing the locket. ‘And what about my purse?’

The chief constable regretfully shook his head. ‘No purse was found on him, I’m afraid, sir.’

Harold sighed heavily, as if the troubles of the world were upon his shoulders. ‘That’s a great shame. But at least I have my precious Judy back next to my heart.’

‘Judy!’ exclaimed Jack, incredulous at Harold’s barefaced lies. ‘Her name’s Jess and she’s my sister!’

As Harold walked away, swallowed up by the crowd, Jack fumed. Rose had been right: Harold was a courtesy-man – a con artist, a thief – just like Rose.

The bailiff returned his attention to Jack, sprawled in the middle of the hall. ‘As much as it galls me to say so, it appears you have an alibi for yesterday. Which means you can’t be held accountable for taking the horses or murdering the boy …’

Despite his fury, Jack felt a spark of hope. They would be freed! Then he would chase down that swindler Harold Westcott and get back his locket, if it was the last thing he did.

‘However,’ continued the bailiff, ‘we’ve now learnt, from what that gentleman said, that you’re a petty thief. Therefore, within my powers as bailiff for this town, I confiscate your belongings, and furthermore sentence you to be put in the pillory a day and a night before being whipped out of town.’

His fishy eyes then settled on Yori. ‘Since you’re a man of the cloth, I’ll show leniency in your case. You shall not be whipped and only put in the stocks.’

His cold gaze fell last upon Akiko, who whispered under her breath to Jack. ‘Kore de jūbundesu! Watashitachi wa koko kara denakereba narimasen, Jakku.’