“Well, Tomcat, those pigeons were designed to trick you and they succeeded, didn’t they? You’ll just have to accept that your patriotic pals might be lovers of England, but they have an axe to grind and wanted to further their own ends and wanted to use you to achieve those ends.”

“But when a man can’t trust his pigeons, what is there left to trust?” said Tompkins appealing to some higher authority.

“It’s not the pigeons’ fault, Tomcat,” said Filly, “they don’t read the messages and then decide whether their prepared to fly with the messages attached to their leg, they don’t assess the truth of the message before leaving, they trust the owners to give them some corn when they’ve arrived.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Tompkins, “but I wasn’t blaming the pigeons themselves, it was the information they were providing, the quality of the information.”

“Well, in this day and age, it shows you can get new fake news by even the oldest means of communication,” said Dr. Black.

The man who had come to the house earlier as the leading ambulance man arrived in the garden and headed for Dr. Black.

“Hello, Charlie,” said Dr. Black, “is our friend Rev Green locked up safely?”

“Yes, sir, he is. He’s not saying much, he just wants a good lawyer, for some reason. He claims he was an innocent pawn in all of this and that the driving force was Mrs. Stark, though I suppose he would say that wouldn’t he?”

“He would, Charlie,” replied Dr. Black, “you’ve met Mr. and Mrs. Tompkins already, I believe.”

“I have. I was impressed with Mr. Tompkins’s strength, I must say, and the doctors were quite amazed how accurate Mrs. Tompkins was with her kick to the groin, which disabled the Rev Green. I think the expression was pinpoint accuracy.”

“Well, I do my best,” said Filly, looking pleased with herself.