Crime is not permitted in the VIllage on Wednesday afternoons, because that is when Sgt. Bagheera takes his afternoon off.
We see him walking along Main Street, passing the (still working) fountain which spills into an old-fashioned drinking trough, a throwback to the halcyon days of horse-drawn carriages and the occasional highwayman.
On one corner of the Town Square, at a table outside the Pump House (village pub), three young men in smart casual dress are holding a lively discussion over a large-scale map.
"Tourists!" thinks Sgt. Bagheera, twirling an imaginary truncheon in his right hand as he approaches them. Though they seem innocent, his bushy moustache twitches in a significant way, warning him that things may not be quite as they seem - and it has never let him down before........
He offered what he hoped would be deemed a friendly smile (it would probably have passed as such between loan sharks and undertakers) as he neared the table.
He noticed that they all appeared to possess musical instruments, stacked carefully alongside their rucksacks. There was no sign of any private transport, which led him to suppose that they were hikers recently arrived by public transport.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
"Thank you, Officer! We were just wondering how far we are from Salisbury Hill? We want to get to the Folk Festival in good time before it starts tomorrow."
Lord, give me strength, thats all I need - great hordes of unwashed hippies tramping all over the local farms for a week or more!" thought the Sergeant. He was too polite to show his feelings, though. To gain a few moments for thought, he asked the group spokesman
"Why do you assume Im a police officer?"
"Because you forgot to take your helmet off."