The other Constables, ready to proceed, wait expectantly in a queue behind and beside the doughty Dwarf.
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"I's followin' her home fum de market over on Brisket Street where her mum sended her to fetch home some supper meat. N'I's followin' right close behind her so's I could maybe catch a snif of 'er purfumery -- it makes me all giddy! Anyway's this lout of a Shiv were drivin' his dray like a palsied kobold 'n' 'e swerved to miss a mudhole and almost drove right over top of 'er! Naturally, being the gentle, noble sort of chap that I am [ahem!] I reached out and pulled her gently out of the way, and since she fell when I did so, I sacrificed my poor, broken body and let her fall right smack on top of me so she's havin' sorta a cushion. When the dray passed, she sees me, jumps up a-cryin', and says, 'Don't ye be a-tuchin' me ya...ya...ya...GOBLIN!' And since she fell with the roast she'us a-carryin', it was a-tween us when we landed. It was a great big ol' well-aged groat roast, too. She grabs up the roast, frowns, throws it at me and runs off. The only good thing to come out of it was that I ate good for three days off'n that roast. But I was follerin' her, and I did touch 'er 'fout 'er permission.""Come now, Bo. You can trust us. Tell us what you did, so we can best figure how to resolve it."