Normally when he put the hat on, the world would seem to black out, and then Tommy’s head would clear again and he would find himself back in the nineteenth century. But this time, when Tommy’s head cleared, it was still dark. The moon was still glowing big and heavy in the night sky. At first, Tommy wasn’t sure if anything had changed. The hat had failed once before, when he was locked up in a room; would it also fail in the dark?

‘Martin?’ Tommy whispered, but there was no reply. The hat had worked after all.

Tommy felt a bit bad about leaving Martin alone in the strange night-time street, but he told himself not to worry. When he disappeared into the past, time seemed to stand still for those left back in the present. Martin would hardly notice that he was gone.

Tommy walked carefully along the deserted street. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark. A shaft of moonlight beamed onto the village, and here and there he could make out the hunched shape of a building: a sloping roof, a little porch. The smoky air brought to his mind’s eye an image of families snuggled in front of fireplaces, all cosy in their humble cottages.

The crunch of footsteps nearly startled Tommy right out of his skin. He ducked behind a bush, suddenly afraid. He peered out between the leaves to watch. He saw the figure of a man; the figure turned and stopped at the door of the building directly across the road from Tommy. The man raised a hand and Tommy could hear the jangling of keys.

Then a blur of movement made Tommy gasp. The hunched figure of a second man was creeping silently up behind the first. He was bigger than the first man, and his right arm was raised high. There was something bulky in his hand. With a shock, Tommy realised it was a gun.

What should he do? Cry out and warn the man at the door? Or wait and watch? The glint of moonlight on the gun’s barrel made up his mind for him: he’d stay hidden for now!

Through the cold night air, the attacker’s voice carried clearly.

‘Don’t make a sound,’ he said, placing his gun at the other’s head, ‘or I’ll knock you down.’

The man had a strange accent – soft and singsong. The man on the doorstep froze.

‘We’ll go in,’ said the man with the gun, ‘and you’ll give me the gold or I’ll shoot you.’

As the door opened and the men shuffled inside, Tommy edged closer. A robbery was in progress! Tommy dashed across the road and hid behind another bush, where he had a better view of the building. Over the front door was a sign that said London Chartered Bank.

Tommy was still creeping closer when the door swung wide again and the men spilled out. The victim was standing in front and, now that Tommy could see his face, he realised that the man was much younger than he had at first imagined. He was only a teenager. He was slim and blond and he looked terrified. The robber stood behind him, holding the gun in one hand and a sack in the other. His eyes were cool and pale. The rest of his face was covered with a red handkerchief. He was pressing his gun into the young man’s back.

Tommy stayed in the shadows, silent, almost too afraid to breathe. As the men passed him, he heard the younger one whimper. They marched on, their boots crunching on the gravel. The older man walked with a limp. When they had gone a safe distance, Tommy decided to follow them. He crept along the roadside behind them, dashing from one bush to another for cover. The men’s voices carried in the still, cold night air.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Tommy heard the young man ask in a wobbling voice.

‘Into the bush, where I shall tie you up,’ was the reply.

The idea of being tied up to a tree for the long freezing night clearly didn’t appeal to the victim. ‘Please, no!’ he begged. ‘I have a sore throat and I’ll fall ill if you leave me out there!’

His attacker sighed. ‘All right then,’ he grumbled. ‘We’ll go to the schoolroom.’

He wasn’t a complete monster, then. But Tommy would stick around just in case the young man needed him. The two men trudged along the road, with Tommy trailing silently behind. The night was dark and eerie. The crooked skeletons of winter trees shredded the moonlight into ribbons and cast creepy shadows onto the earth. There was no sound but the crunching of boots on gravel.

Suddenly the man with the gun let out a whistle, loud and clear, startling the life out of his victim – and Tommy.

‘Just letting my mate know where I am,’ the gunman explained. ‘He’s here in the bush, covering my back.’

Liar, thought Tommy. There’s no one else here but me. The man was bluffing. Trying to frighten his victim even more by making him think he was part of a gang. What a bully.

They marched on, the younger man stiff and awkward with the gun at his back. Tommy tiptoed behind, keeping to the shadows. His breath came out in foggy puffs. His heart pounded.

They passed by a well. As he passed, Tommy peeped over the edge down the well's shaft. The moonlight glowed on the surface of its water like a ghost, and Tommy shivered with fear. At last they came to a little timber building that Tommy guessed must be the schoolroom. The men shuffled inside, leaving the door open. Tommy crept onto the porch and crouched beside the doorway. Carefully, he peered through the open door into the building. The darkness was almost complete; Tommy could barely make out the shapes of the men inside. But the voices were as clear as day.

‘Here is some paper and a pen,’ the masked man was saying in his soft, strange accent. ‘Now I want you to write what I dictate.’

Light flared as the man struck a match. Tommy could see the flickering reflected in his pale eyes. The younger man took up his pen with a shaky hand.

Then the attacker started to dictate: ‘I hereby certify that L.W. Bruun has done everything in his power to withstand our intrusion and the taking away of the money which was done with firearms.’

The young man wrote as the robber spoke. When he was finished, the masked man took the pen from his victim’s hand. ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘So don’t say I didn’t look after you. You won’t get blamed for stealing the gold and money now.’

Then the robber leaned over the desk and signed the paper. ‘Now sit still while I tie you to the chair!’ he ordered.

When the shuffling and grunting was over, the man with the gun turned back to the door. His mask had slipped down and Tommy could see his face. The man had thick, dark hair and a black beard, and his eyes were a cold, hard blue.

Tommy shrank back in fear. He flattened himself against the shadowy wall as the man hurried past him and out into the night. The moon lit a path; in the white ribbon of light Tommy saw him limp down the road. Then the man veered off to a big dark shape by the roadside: the well. The man leaned over it and Tommy heard a splash. Then the robber limped back out to the road and disappeared into the darkness.