The Wee Free Men

She picked up bits of conversation, though sometimes they seemed to be in a kind of code, like: 'Never really had anyone of her own, poor old soul. Wasn't her fault she was skinnier'n a rake,' and 'They say that when they found her she was cuddling it and said it was hers,' and 'The house was full of baby clothes she'd knitted!' That last one had puzzled Tiffany at the time, because it was said in the same tone of voice that someone'd use to say 'And the house was full of human skulls!'

But they all agreed on one thing: We can't have this. A crime's a crime. The Baron's got to be told.

Miss Robinson had stolen a baby, Punctuality Riddle, who had been much loved by his young parents even though they'd named him 'Punctuality' (reasoning that if children could be named after virtues like Patience, Faith and Prudence, what was wrong with a little good timekeeping?).

He'd been left in his crib in the yard, and had vanished. And there had been all the usual searchings and weepings, and then someone had mentioned that Miss Robinson had been taking home extra milk...

It was kidnapping. There weren't many fences on the Chalk, and very few doors with locks. Theft of all kinds was taken very seriously. If you couldn't turn your back on what was yours for five minutes, where would it all end? The law's the law. A crime's a crime...

Tiffany had overheard bits of arguments all over the village, but the same phrases cropped up over and over again. Poor thing never meant no harm. She was a hard worker, never complained. She's not right in the head. The law's the law. A crime's a crime.

And so the Baron was told, and he held a court in the Great Hall, and everyone who wasn't wanted up on the hills turned up, including Mr and Mrs Riddle, she looking worried, he looking determined, and Miss Robinson, who just stared at the ground with her red knuckly hands on her knees.

It was hardly a trial. Miss Robinson was confused about what she was guilty of, and it seemed to Tiffany that so was everyone else. They weren't certain why they were there, and they'd come to find out,

The Baron had been uneasy, too. The law was clear. Theft was a dreadful crime, and stealing a human being was much worse. There was a prison in Yelp, right beside the Home for the Destitute; some said there was even a connecting door. That was where thieves went.

And the Baron wasn't a big thinker. His family had held the Chalk by not changing their mind about anything for hundreds of years. He sat and listened and drummed his fingers on the table and looked at people's faces and acted like a man sitting on a very hot chair.