He discarded the sock and, loosening the strings on the pouch, emptied some of its contents into the palm of his hand.

Gold sovereigns. The noise they made caused Baker to step forward from the door and look. He whistled lightly as he watched the shiny coins drop from Rossett’s palm onto the folded clothes in the case.

“Cor blimey, must be a few bob there, Sarge.” Rossett glanced back at Baker, who nodded and tilted his head toward the bounty. “We could have us a fine time with them lot.”

Rossett picked up the coins and placed them back into the pouch. He fastened it tight and then stood, slipping the pouch into his pocket. He took the boy by the arm while picking up the small case with his other hand.

Suddenly back on duty.

“We could have a fine old time, Constable, but we aren’t going to, because they aren’t ours. Write up exactly what has happened here and then bring your notebook to me later so I can sign it and you can sign mine. I’m going to book this stuff into the found property system back at the nick.”

“I was only joking, Sarge.” Baker looked even younger than he was, exposed by the stickler everyone at the nick said Rossett was. “And what about the kid?”

“What about him?”

“Is he found property, too?”

Rossett looked at the young boy, who stared back, still angry over the letters.

“I suppose he is,” said Rossett in a voice that sounded colder than he’d expected.

He pushed past Baker and led the boy down the stairs. At the front door he found the inventory team waiting for him. The other bobby he’d assigned to guard the front was blocking their entry. He glanced back at Rossett and then down to the boy.

“Who’s this, then? Have you caught a tiddler?” The bobby ruffled Jacob’s hair, but the child didn’t respond.

“Let them in now, you’re cleared to leave. Make sure you tell the lads around the back,” replied Rossett. Looking outside to see who was leading the inventory team, his heart sank when he saw Gruber, the German civil servant who was often the lead man in these clearances.

Gruber was known for being a jobsworth. The story went he’d been banished from Berlin for a minor clerical error and that he was determined to never slip up again, in case his next posting took him closer to a front line and further from any chance of getting back to the Fatherland.

“Sergeant, we are running late, it is gone eight thirty o’clock!” the little German stuttered in broken English, as he folded the heavy ledger he was carrying and rushed toward the front door while pulling out a pocket watch and holding it up for Rossett to see. “My team have much of work to do today, this really won’t do!” By now, Gruber was no longer looking at Rossett, but staring at the child.

Rossett noticed everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Herr Gruber, I had to make sure the house was completely clear, for your safety.”

“What is this?” Gruber pointed at the child.

“He was hiding; it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hiding? How many others are hiding?” Gruber stared past Rossett at the house and then back at the child.

“Nobody else is hiding, the house is clear now.”

“The suitcase, is that the child’s?” Gruber pointed again.

“It’s just some spare clothes.”

“It should be on the inventory. If it was in the house it should be on the inventory.” Gruber held up the ledger as proof of his statement.

“It’s just some clothes; it has no value.”

“You found it in the house, it goes in the inventory. No exceptions,” replied Gruber, holding out his hand for the case.

“It is my grandfather’s case. He brought it with him when he came to this country.” The boy spoke loudly, and both men turned to look at the waif with no small degree of surprise. “It is not yours, it is mine.”

Gruber stared for a moment, dumbfounded, then held out his hand again.

“Sergeant, give me the case now.”

Rossett sighed and held out the case to the German, who reached for it with a smile on his face. The boy suddenly pulled against Rossett and made a grab for the case.

“No! It is mine! No!”

Gruber leapt back as if a dog had suddenly snapped at him. He blushed, then stepped forward and struck the boy across the face in one fluid movement.

“Juden shichzer!” He reached for the case from an openmouthed Rossett, who still held the boy by the arm, and once again made to strike the boy with his open hand. Rossett turned slightly and pulled the boy behind him, shielding him from Gruber.

Rossett held up the case toward the German and glanced past him at the twelve-man inventory team, some of whom had taken a few paces forward, disturbed either by their boss’s assaulting a child or maybe by Rossett’s stopping him.

“Take the case, Herr Gruber. Of course, you are correct; it should go on the inventory.” Rossett spoke quickly, trying to defuse the situation.

Gruber paused and looked at Rossett, slowly realizing that his behavior was drawing attention. He smoothed his jacket front and took the case.

“Thank you, Sergeant, we must do these things in the correct manner. It is important, always very important.” The German took a step back, glancing at his team, most of whom turned away or looked at the floor. “My men should really get to work, if you are finished here?”

Rossett nodded and stepped aside, being careful to hold the boy away from the German in case the child saw fit to kick out.

Gruber entered the property and his men slowly followed him inside, some nodding to the boy, who once again looked downward. Rossett watched them file into the house, then led the boy to the Austin and sat him on the backseat before taking his place behind the wheel. He felt in his pocket for his notebook and realized he still had the sovereigns; he took the pouch out and thought about handing them to Gruber.

It would make his life easier to just get rid of them now. No chance of their going missing from the police safe if the German entered them into his inventory.