Free Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night by James Runcie

confused.’
    ‘I would be surprised.’
    ‘I can assure you that I shot a woodcock. Let me see the owl.’ Benson leant forward, picked up the creature, and began to examine it. ‘No sign of any shot. A natural death, I should say. I can look after it. I’d best go and look for my woodcock. Your dog seems very eager.’
    ‘He is an enthusiast,’ Sidney replied, uncertain quite how to respond. In the momentary silence he heard a car rev up, speed, and then slow down abruptly as it neared. Gary Bell leant out of the window and shouted, ‘Perverts,’ before screeching off.
    Sidney wondered what they thought he had been doing. He would have to get over to the Eagle and see Keating. His mellow midsummer mood had melted away.
    Cambridge was quieter in August. There were few students around town and people who lived there all year round were more relaxed. This was as close as the city ever came to being just another small market town in the east of England. Although the great university buildings gave Cambridge its historic permanence, as if it could return to its medieval roots at any moment, the town was in repose before the next generation of students arrived in the autumn. It was summer hibernation, Sidney thought: not so much a long vacation as a long siesta.
    He had been looking forward to his regular backgammon session with Keating but his spirits descended further when he discovered that his friend was in a teasing mood. A few hours earlier Sidney would have relished it, but the disconcerting encounter with Benson, and the brief moment of abuse from Gary Bell, had made him lose his mirth.
    The previous evening Keating had been to see a Doris Day film at the pictures, and he was keen not only to tell Sidney all about it but also to enquire about his friend’s interest in the subject of romance, noting, yet again, his twin loyalties to Hildegard and Amanda. ‘Cambridge is probably a damned sight quieter because we haven’t seen so much of Miss Kendall recently,’ Geordie joshed. ‘Have you given her the heave-ho?’
    ‘Not in the slightest. She’s on holiday in cooler climes: the Highlands.’
    ‘Aren’t there rather a lot of midges in Scotland?’
    ‘I don’t think she’ll trouble herself about them.’
    ‘I suppose they are more likely to be scared of her .’
    ‘She’s shooting with friends.’
    ‘I only hope they don’t shoot each other. At least it’s out of our jurisdiction.’
    ‘Talking of shooting . . .’ Sidney began.
    Keating stopped. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, man . . .’
    ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think it’s of any significance, a minor misdemeanour, I am sure, but something happened earlier this evening that troubled me. I am not sure how much you know about the legal protection of wild animals.’
    ‘There was a law passed in 1947.’
    ‘I imagine the shooting of an owl is an illegal act?’
    ‘It certainly is.’
    Sidney explained what had happened with Benson. The inspector promised to send a colleague round to have a word. He explained that although it was an offence to kill, injure or take any wild bird, including the tawny owl ( Strix aluco : Sidney was impressed by Keating’s use of the Latin name), it was legal to pick up most animal and bird species that had died naturally.
    ‘That, I would have thought, was a moot point.’
    ‘I agree, Sidney, but unless you saw the incident or we can examine the owl and discover shot within it, then there is little we can do. We have to be sure. Just because a man behaves suspiciously, does not mean that he is up to no good. If we arrested every person who acted in an unusual way the cells would be full and you would be one of the first to be admitted.’
    ‘I would assume that, were such a situation to arise, you would help me out?’
    ‘But I might be in there too. My superiors have already had a word about our friendship. They don’t take too kindly to undue influence.’
    ‘But any conversation with a priest is surely