Priory of Death: 17

"Outsider! This is where Connie died too..."
"Great! You found it!"
But that made no sense. What about the scream?
Of course! the killer wanted us to think she'd been killed outside, in the gardens. That was why we hadn't been able to find a muder weapon. Obviously Connie had gone here to test some theory about the pit, and the killer, suspecting that she had realised the truth, had murdered her. Then, to try and allay our suspicions (and I'm a suspicious kind of girl), the body had been moved out into the gardens. I'd surprised the killer while he or she was moving the corpse.
What truth had Connie discovered? Obviously she'd suspected either the motive for Mr. Hamilton's killing, or the method - both things that would point to one of our party. The answer had been down here. Here not only Connie Yorke, but James Hamilton, had died.
But why? The motive for Connie's murder was easy to understand - one the killer had begun to kill, he or she had to kill again to cover up the fact. But why would anyone want to murder Mr. Hamilton in the first place? Anti-religious fervour wasn't sufficient motive to set up a killing this complicated, and it didn't make sense anyhow. None of the guests were that way inclined. If Richard Dawkins had been invited I might have believed it, but this... But then, nothing made sense right now. This was a sealed room with the door closed...
Of course! I had a sudden flash of inspiration.
"Emily! Close the door!" I called.
"Grey..."
"Do it!"
"Okay!"
Emily slammed the heavy oak door. I looked around the walls of the 'pit'. They were all solid stone.
Then I heard the whirring of machinery. I felt the floor move beneath me, downwards like a lift. Looking up I saw the roof of the pit descending - set in motion by a switch operated by closing the door.

There was another door on a lower level! I saw it as the huge stone slab on which I stood descended. That accounted for the removal of the body, I thought. But surely there hadn't been that much time at the demonstration? And anyway, everyone had been there...
The descending ceiling, I thought. It had to be a replica of the floor I was standing on. We'd thought we were looking at the floor Hamilton had been tied to, but in fact we were looking at a completely different floor. It seemed excessively complicated...
No it wasn't, I realised with horror, as my torch picked out a patch of red on the descending ceiling above me. A patch that more or less corresponded to the one on the floor. Now I knew why I hadn't been able to find a murder weapon - it was far too big, I'd overlooked it.
And now I was standing right in it! A huge device for killing people.
"Emily!" I called. "Open the door!"
"I can't!" her voice came back. "It's locked itself!"
I tried the door at the bottom. Locked as well. Looking up, I saw the ceiling of the pit swooping down on me.
It had to be the mechanism, I thought. The doors were locked until the crushing process was complete.
And I was the one standing inside the crusher!

Priory of Death: 16

I called the police at once, and the bodies were taken away. I remained hidden in the gatehouse while this happened. Then, when the coast was clear, I returned to the mansion.
The guests were all subdued. I didn't blame them. Two murders in one night was heavy going out in the country.
"Well, you found Mr. Hamilton," Victoria groaned. "And poor Connie!"
"Why did she go out?" I asked.
"I don't know! She was terribly mysterious about it."
"It looks like she found the killer moving the body, and he killed her."
It had taken a lot of strength to smash in Connie's skull. But then Victoria was a sporty girl, and Duncan Campbell was a huge bear of a man. And I didn't know what the weapon had been - the police hadn't found it.
"How long was she out for?"
"About half an hour."
"And the cause of death for Mr. Hamilton was similar - someone smashed his skull." I sighed. "All right. I'll go to bed and I'll be fresh and ready to think in the morning."
In fact I had no intention of going to sleep early. I just wanted to wait until all the guests were in bed before I made an inspection of the tunnels under the Priory with Emily.
The Outsider was lying on my bed when I entered. The bag of food I'd bought at Marks and Spencer's in Ayr (I had to find a sponsor) was open, and Emily was half-way through a large pork pie.
"Outsider!"
"Sorry. I got hungry." she apologised. That was easy for her to say, she'd just eaten my supper.
"Emily Fairbairn, I wanted to eat that."
"You can have the rest," she offered. I thought about it, and decided that I wanted to do just that. Emily handed it over.
"So, what did the police say?" I asked.
"Oh, they took witness statements from everyone. Scruff said she found the body, then she went straight to bed. Who do you think did it?"
"I don't know. You?"
"No. But you knew Connie."
"She must have found out something about the Priory... the Pit! Emily, we have to go down the Pit and investigate."
"I don't like the idea..."
"There's two of us. And this time we're suspecting something evil will happen."
"Okay," Emily agreed. "I'll clean my crossbow."
I thought that was an excellent idea.
We waited until everyone had gone to bed, and then the pair of us, a figure in grey and an indistinct black smoky form, sallied forth into the moonlit gardens for a closer look at the Devil's pit.
I pulled a high-powered torch from my belt as we stepped into the tunnels. Emily led the way, crossbow held ready.
But no attack came. At last we stood at the entrance to the pit. I unlocked the door and shone my torch inside.
Everything looked just as it had before, except...
I jumped down into the pit and pulled off a glove. kneeling on the floor I tried the patch of dark red with one finger. It was cold and congealed, but it was definitely blood. And there, on the floor, were the scattered pearls of Connie's necklace.

Sunday With Scruff 2. Prosperity Scruff?

The other Lord's Day (the Decons at Salem prefer me to call it that) Alice took me to visit the Almighty God Tabernacle of Faith in Peckham (and people say Strict Baptist Chapel names are funny!). This time I decided to go as myself. Mostly because I managed to set fire to myself last time I went in disguise, and I ended up under suspicion of being a Strict Baptist spy.
We took a train to Peckham Rye, and then we got lost. It was kind of scary being in Peckham after dark. I wanted to go in to a big old Baptist Church we passed, but Alice said it was just like Salem only everyone there was black and they didn't have an organist, so we didn't go in.
The Almighty God Tabernacle of Faith was a big old factory that the Almighty God of Faith Church bought last year, and it still looked like a big old factory. We were greeted enthusiastically by two young people at the door and shown inside, where a band was playing very loud music. I noticed that everyone in the room seemed to be under forty, which is kind of different from Salem, where the average age is fifty (although that's a mean, and it's pushed up by Mrs. Anderson, who's 98 and Mrs. Bourne who's 97). Most of the congregation was black, but then it's Peckham. Oh, and I actually fitted in pretty well with my baggy clothes and untidy hair. It wasn't like the Puddle, which seemed to be full of twenty-to-thirty-somethings

Alice and I prayed before the service, then a girl in a tight top and jeans read a Bible verse to start off with, then the band began to play. People raised their hands and I felt sort of out of place. We don't do that at Salem, and if ANYONE tried to do that at the School chapel, they'd have been given detention or something. Perhaps something worse than the month's detention I got for building a tower out of hymnbooks during the Bishop's sermon. They never put me on door-duty again either.
We had about an hour of singing. I thought I recognised one of the songs, but then I realised I only knew the tune, and I got funny looks for singing the secular words. They were pretty uninhibited, and I did a little bit of dancing, which Alice thought was very funny. I tought Alice was a bit mean to think that.
I felt pretty good after all that singing and dancing, although I think some of the regulars thought I was a crazy white girl (they were right too). I sat down and the pastor bounded on stage. Sis says I ought to write 'platform', but it was a stage, like at a rock concert (and I mean JUST like at a rock concert).
The Pastor was trying to be like an American Word-Faith preacher, but he was from East London and sounded like Michael Caine.
"Welcome to the Almighty God Tabernacle of Faif," he said. "Our God is an awesome God, an' if yer don't agree wiv me I'll see yer after the service. Now, our God loves a cheerful giver, so if yer don't give cheerfully 'ee don't love yer. The band will now sing 'Our God is an awesome God', an' the dancers will dance, while the offering is taken up."
"I've only got a fiver," I whispered to Alice. She smiled.
"So have I."
The band started to play. I kind of got carried away and jumped up and did some dancing. The regulars looked at me as if I was a REALLY crazy white girl.
"Oh God," the Pastor said after the collection. "We fank yer fer givin' us yer bounty, an' we 'ope an' pray that yer will bless these seeds of faif." He went on like that, then we had some more worship time before the sermon.

The pastor strode back on stage for the sermon and took the mike.
"Now," he said. "God is waitin' ter bless yer. All of yer. It is 'is will that all of yer oughta be blessed wiv money an' prosperity an' 'ealth. Nah, 'ee wants yer ter be 'appy, an' if yer ain't 'appy it's unbelief, an' that's a sin. If yer ain't rich, it's because yer a sinner, an' yer ain't lettin' God inter yer life."
"That's not true!" I shouted. Suddenly everyone was looking at me.
"It ain't true?" the pastor said sarcastically.
"No! What about the Rich man and Lazarus? The rich man went to hell and Lazarus the beggar went to heaven. Paul was never rich. Psalm 73..."
Four huge deacons emerged from behind the pastor.
"Throw 'er aht!" he ordered. They didn't have to, I ran. I ended up sitting at the back in the Baptist Church we'd passed.
The pastor of the Almighty God Tabernacle of Faith is currently being invesigated by the police on charges of demanding money with menaces.

Priory of Death: 15

I ran out, into the night, pulling my small but powerful torch from my belt as I did so. I'd only heard one scream, and in my book that's very bad, as it often means the screamer's been mudered. The romantic ruins of the garden now impeded my progress. There was no way I could see further than a few feet in front of me.
Suddenly I heard something move. I whirled around. I just saw the black-robed figure hurry away.
"Hey! Stop!" I called. But it was no good. Within seconds I'd lost him in the ruins, a frustrating experience to say the least.
So the 'monk' was walking. The only question was, had the scream been caused by a sight of the monk, or by something else?
"What was it?" Scruff joined me, concern in her blue eyes.
"The monk from last night. He was moving fast. I'd say he was runnig away from something."
"These ruins get in the way," Scruff observed. "Do you think they were meant to do that?"
"No, but I'd love to have the Green Man here on a moonlit night..."
"Lynette says he's not your boyfriend..."
"Lynette can say what she likes," I replied. "Look, we're looking for someone who's probably a killer, not discussing my romantic life."
"Are we?" Scruff can be very annoying sometimes.
"Yes! And for whoever screamed."
"Gosh! We are!" Scruff's a good girl, if sometimes very annoying.
"Did I miss something?"
I was pleased to see the Outsider. Her red eyes glowed fiercely in the night, and I knew she had her crossbow held ready to kill anyone who might need killing.
"The Monk again. Come on, we need to find the person she screamed. We'd better split up."
I don't do that when there's the possibility of someone trying to kill one of us, but it seemed safe enough right now. So we split up, the Outsider moving suspiciously, crossbow held ready, Scruff a little wary, me cat-like and graceful.
"Here!" Scruff called after a few minutes. I could hear the worry in her voice. Emily and I ran over to join her. She was looking down at a crumpled figure on the gound. No, TWO crumple figures
Hamilton's body was something I expected to find at some point. The police weren't going to believe the story about the devil, and I would have taken the Priory apart with my gloved hands (not wanting to ruin my nails) if I hadn't found the corpse. The killer would have realised that and I was sure the 'monk' had been moving the body from the tunnels. I had expected that. But there was something else I had not been expecing to find - the person who had screamed.
It was Connie. And she was dead, her head smashed in.

Priory of Death: 14

I drove out to the airport, and there, in the back of my grey Jag, I made the change. I'd already put my Girl in Grey outfit on under my clothes, not fancying the idea of undressing in the back of my car in an airport car park. I pulled up the cowl, drew on my boots and gloves, and fastened on my belt.
Then, dressed as the Girl in Grey, I sped back towards the Priory. I had a lot of work to do, and someone there knew a lot more than he or she was telling.
Was it Victoria? She knew the building and its grounds, she'd invited the guests, she had planned everything - had she planned the death of James Hamilton as well?
Was it Amelia? The catty part of me thought it might well be. But she was a friend of Victoria's. She could have planned it too. And Mr. Hamilton had a Glasgow accent - just as Amelia was working in Glasgow.
Then there was Connie. True, she'd expressed some suspicion, but it might have been feigned, a red herring to get me off the trail. Connie knew about the past, she might have found some ancient mechanism that had made Hamilton vanish.
Duncan Campbell, the mysterious Highlander. I didn't know a thing about him, and the same went for Stephen Richards. A house full of suspects, and yours truly had to play Miss Marple, or maybe Hercule Poirot.
I was still thinking about it as I drove through the priory gates.

I parked outside and strode up to the front door, carrying my suitcase. I rang the bell and the butler opened it. I'd discounted him, the Butler never did it.
"The Girl in Grey," I told him as his eyes roamed over my curves.
"I... very good, Madam. Come in."
I stepped into the hall and looked around. Somehow my close-fitting grey bodysuit didn't seem to fit with the baronial structure. I thought about getting a tartan sash and putting that on. I'd look stylish, if nothing else.
"The Girl in Grey!" Victoria hurried over to me. "Oh, I'm so pleased to see you! Where's Jane?"
"She had to go back to London - it's her business manager..."
"Oh! I'm sorry. Our local minister's vanished..."
"She told me about him it. You're Victoria Helmann?"
"Yes, yes. My husband isn't here, I'm afraid, he's still at the station waiting for another guest to arrive."
"May I see the guests?" I asked. "Then I'll go to bed. I've had a long day. I'll use Jane's room - if you'd show me there."
"I will!" Scruff ran over and led me up the stairs.
"Do you think he's dead?" she asked. I nodded.
"I'm pretty certain he is. Someone here set him up for murder. I intend to find out who."
Just then a piercing scream rent the air.

Priory of Death: 13

We stood in the doorway looking down at where Rev. James Hamilton had been.
"Where is he?" Victoria wailed. "Where's he gone? What happened to him?"
Even Duncan Campbell looked shaken. We were in no mood to continue walking around the grounds, and the party, shocked and rather subdued, returned to the Priory. Fortunately Emily had finished her raid on the fridge. She was in my room as I entered, doing some serious research on the internet. Well, trying to buy another crossbow online, actually, but it's almost the same thing.
"Jane! What's up?" the black and smoky girl asked, concerned.
"Mr. Hamilton, the minister. He vanished in the Devil's Pit."
"The Girl in Grey needs to look into it," Emily responded at once. "You're a detective, aren't you?"
"Well, yes I am. But..."
"Call her. Then go to the station to picked her up tonight and don't come back. She'll bring your car back, and you got called to London."
"I can't. there's aproblem with the line..."
"The airfield, then."
"Emily, you're brilliant. I'll tell the others."
I ran down the stairs. Victoria looked up as I did so.
"Jane?"
"I know someone in London who specializes in solving mysteries. She's called the Girl in Grey. I called her just now on my mobile and she's agreed to come up and find Mr. Hamilton for you. She'll be getting into the airport about nine. She wants to sleep off the trip, then investigate the disappearance."
"I'll tell the police what happened," Victoria offered. "I guess I have to."
"Yes," Connie was deep in thought. She seemed to have calmed down since school. Maybe it was having a job.

"Penny for them," I sat down next to her.
"Well, I'm not a specialist on Medieval Scotland, but that thing puzzles me. There was something about it not quite right. Something about everything."
I noticed she was reading 'A True History of Dentree Priory'.
"Interesting?"
"In a way. I can't think what it was, but SOMETHING struck me, out there in the garden."
I wished she could think what it was too. Because more and more I was becoming convinced that the solution to this mystery could be found in that book and in those ruins.

Priory of Death: 12

We stood about three feet from the bottom of the pit, looking at it. I spoke first.
"Victoria, it's a dry well shaft."
"But look at the bottom!"
There, set int the bottom of the shaft, were four iron rings, rusted with age. They looked...
I jumped down into the pit. Victoria screamed, but there was nothing really dangerous, just a dry stone floor. Making some quick calculations, I lay down on the floor. The four iron rings were positioned so that even my wrists and ankles could have been tied to them.
"Just like in the book!" Victoria exclaimed happily. "The Jesuits would tie their victims to those iron rings, then they'd shut the door and leave them to the devil. Oh Jane, I won't shut the door on you!"
"You'd better not," I got up and Scruff and Duncan Campbell helped me up to the tunnel floor level again.
"Just think," Victoria mused. "The Jesuits put Protestants to death there. Mr. Hamilton, do you think the Jesuits really had demonic power on their side?"
"Victoria! I'm not Ian Paisley, you know! No, I'm sure this is just a trick to fool ignorant people! Jane! Tie me down to those rings!"
"I'd rather not..." I replied.
"Come on! It's an experiment! If Protestants were put here during the Reformation, I can do the same! Or do you believe that bit about the Devil now?"
"I..."
"I wll!" Victoria was obviously enjoying herself. My scepticism was apparently seen as unreasonable and silly. I didn't have the authority to object to Hamilton's 'experiment'.
Victoria tied the minister to the floor and Duncan and I helped her back up. Then the door was closed, and we withdrew to a 'safe distance', whatever that is when you're testing a legend about demonic power.
Victoria took out her mobile and started timing Hamilton's stay in the pit.
"How long?" Connie asked.
"Yes, it must be quite hard being tied up in there."
"He can keep praying," Duncan Campbell replied. I thought he was a little harsh, but then I'm the strict Baptist one.
"Time's up!" Victoria announced. She ran back to the pit and threw open the door.
There was no sign of Mr. Hamilton. The four iron rings were still there, but rope and Hamilton were both gone. In their place was a strong smell of sulphur.
I think Scruff and I were the only girls there who didn't scream.

Priory of Death: 11

The news about the Pit rather recconciled me to the idea of going out and looking at the Priory ruins, and after we'd all wrapped up warmly, we went out into the rather bleak Priory grounds. Rev. James Hamilton joined us, and the men all (with the exception of Mr. Richards) seemed to enjoy being manly in the presence of us ladies.
I'd been extremely tired when we arrived, and only now did I appreciate the solid workmanship of the early Gothic-revival house with its pinnacles, battlements and tall chimneys. The main block, which contained the formal rooms, was the front of a rather rambling building that sort of cascaded down the hill in a series of slate-roofed blocks of varying sizes.
We descended the hill and found ourselves in what seemed to be a garden built within the ruins of the old Priory. All around were crumbling walls and pieces of carved masonry reused in the fashionable manner of the period to create garden follies. It felt just as the garden-designers had intended - kind of romantic.

Scruff, muffled up in her coat and scarf, followed behind me. I kind of felt sorry for her. She looked like she wasn't enjoying it much. What I didn't know was that Emily was enjoying our walk - she was raiding the fridge again.
"It's beautiful," Connie ventured her opinion. "These carved stones... they must come from dates from the eleventh century right through to the fifteenth!"
"When we saw this place we knew we had to have it," Victoria answered. "It's so wonderful! And so historic!"
"Where's this pit?" I asked. Hard-headed, sceptical me. I had to go and spoil everything by not believing the stories. That's me for you, though.
"Come on, Janie!" Victoria took my right hand and led me down to an ivy-covered stone archway in a half-ruined building at the bottom of a twenty-foot cliff. An iron door swung open and Victoria turned on a lighting system that quite impressed me. Ahead of us was a stone-cut tunnel, a brick floor - clearly a modern addition - was part-laid.
"Here, the entrance to the Devil's Pit!"

Victoria hurried down the tunnel with all the boundless energy she's capable of - which is lots. I was very glad I'd put on my boots that morning - the tunnel floor was so wet in places that it would have overtopped my shoes.
We were descending as well as moving deeper into the hillside. At last Victoria stopped in front of a wooden door with an iron grille in it.
"The Devil's Pit!" she announced melodramatically as she threw open the door.
All of us, including Scruff, looked through eagerly, wondering what terrible thing we would see.

Priory of Death: 10

Everyone looked fine - I thought the Society types were probably saving themselves for a huge amount of dissipation on Sunday night to see in the new year. Our clerical friend was absent, but the rest of us were still there, and still alive. Had any of them been getting into bad habits, I wondered.
"Where's your husband?" I asked Victoria. She smiled.
"He's still at the station. In Ayr. The train hasn't got in yet..."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. Then food was brought in. I hoped Emily wasn't around, as she wasn't going to get any.
"Bacon and eggs!" Scruff exclaimed delightedly. She has no sense of decorum at all, and I heard Amelia titter. That annoyed me. Partly because I don't like the idea of someone being cattier than me, but don't tell Lynette that.

"Doesn't Jane feed you enough at home? she said archly.
"Jane's really nice to me!" Scruff shot back. "She's all the family I've got now!"
"You poor girl. Jane, how do you cope with her?"
"We're the best of friends," I answered defiantly. We are, really, but I came off as rather defensive.
"Wasn't it a shame your stepmother died like that?"
Since Scruff and I were personally involved in her death, our thoughts were rather different.
"No," Scruff was the first to speak, relieving me of the responsibility to speak only well of the dead. Although come to think of it, that was why I didn't say anything. "She stole my inheritance and tried to make me marry a boy I hated."
"Poor old Scruff..."
Before I could show Amelia what catty REALLY means, Victoria broke in and tried to change the subject. It needed changing too. A few more minutes of that and I'd be ready for a cat-fight, and I don't mean perhaps!

"Let's go outside after breakfast. We can look at the Priory ruins. Gosh! wasn't it thrilling, hearing about all those terrible things that happened here all those centuries ago?"
"Wonderful," I answered sarcastically.
"You don't beleve in the stories, do you?" Victoria pouted. I shook my head.
"No, I don't. It all sounds like a lot of Victorian melodrama..."
"Aha!" Victoria replied. "But we found the Pit!"
That did surprise me.

Priory of Death: 9

The night's rest did me a world of good, and the sun was shining outside when I opened my curtains and looked out on the landscaped grounds. There was a small lake, some romantic ruins (the sort a girl could hide in with the Green Man if he's about), and all sorts of shrubbery - the sort Scruff and I used to play hide-and-seek in when we were very young.
I was down bright and early for breakfast, dressed in a white sweater, brown wool skirt and brown leather boots, and feeling quite smart too. Seeing Scruff in her usual outfit just made me feel smarter. I knew Emily was around somewhere, but the Outsider wasn't exactly going to wander around visible.
"Emily!" Victoria greeted me. She wore a simple plaid skirt and a green sweater. "You're smart!"

"I have to set Scruff a good example," I explained. "We've got a London friend who despairs of Scruff. She's really dressy, and she can't understand how Scruff manages like she does!"
"I think Scruff's sweet," Victoria defended her. I'm not sure how good a defence it would be against Lynette. "Did you sleep well?"
"Like a log. And Scruff."
"Sure," Scruff, in deference to convention, did not have her iPod switched on. I got Emily one for Christmas, and Emily loves it. Hers is black, of course. I've got a pink one with some highly unauthorised modifications by another old school friend who did something with her life.
And of course all my school friends are girls. I went to an exclusive girls' school! I am the daughter of a millionaire, after all!
I wonder how you go about fighting crime if you're not rich? Join the police, I suppose. It must be rather dull.
"SOMEONE raided the kitched fridge last night," Victoria told me. I sighed.
"Scruff!"
"Sis?" she hurried over.
"Someone raided the fridge last night. Was it you?"
"I... It was," she confessed. "I got hungry during the night... I saw the ghost!"
Great, I thought, Scruff's using the ghost to distract from a fridge-robbing incident. I'd hoped we could be more dramatic about it - but some hope.
"You did?" Scruff's tactic was working too, I thought.
"Oh, yes! But it was rather boring, just a black monk figure with no skin hanging off or anything. You couldn't even tell if it was a monk or a Jesuit. But it was kind of spooky!"
"Scruff!" Victoria hugged her, taking my little sister rather by surprise. "I'm SO glad you saw it! Did you hear that, Jane? Scruff saw the ghost! Oh, it's so thrilling!"
"Isn't it?" I decided to continue playing the sceptic. The Outsider's made me revise my ideas about the supernatural a little, but not enough for me to believe this story.
"Well, I believe her! And you ought to as well!"
"Okay, Scruff saw the ghost. I need breakfast."
So we went to the breakfast room, the place where we had lost the robed figure the previous night.
I knew we would see the 'Monk' again.

Priory of Death: 8

The strange figure left through an open door. Scruff turned to me and sighed.
"He doesn't have his skin hanging off or anything like that!" she said, disappointed. I could only laugh again.
"Scruff! You're wonderful. Emily?"
"Yes?" two red eyes appeared the other side of the kitchen.
"We just saw a ghost."
"Really?"
"I don't know. It wasn't transparent, and it didn't walk through walls."
"So not like me?"
"You do keyholes, not walls."
"True... Hey! I could pretend to be the ghost..."
"Not yet. If that was a fake, why was he walking around in a black habit at midnight, when there was no-one supposed to be about?"
"Maybe he's looking for the treasure?" Scruff suggested. "And the habit's just in case he's spotted."
"Or maybe he has a really weird dressing-gown?" Emily added her suggestion, which amused all of us.
"Scruff, go back to your room and see if you can get my laptop connected to the internet. Emily, come with me."
Scruff hurried off, bare feet silent on the floors. Emily drew her crossbow. I decided not to ask her why she'd brought her crossbow downstairs when she was raiding the fridge. It would only lead to complications, after all.
We stepped into a dark corridor. The only light came from Emily's eyes. I thought about using her to scare Victoria, but I decided that would be cruel. And difficult to explain once we'd caught the real 'monk', whom I was sure was up to no good.
I pushed open the door at the end of the passage to find myself in one of the Priory's grand rooms. But there was no sign of the black-clad figure. He could have escaped any one of a dozen ways, I thought. It was no good going after him now.
"Jane?" Emily asked.
"We lost him. Now we have to find out who he is, and what he's doing. Not to mention if 'he' is male or female. Under that habit he could have been anyone!"
What was more, his motion had been slow and steady. 'He' might have been wearing stilts under there.
Oh well, time would tell. With my laptop connected to the internet I'd be able to find out a great deal.
You may be wondering how a remote Scottish mansion could be a wi-fi hotspot. And I could say that Victoria and her husband had it installed. Only they didn't. But I have a friend who makes a lot of my gadgets, and she supplied me with a link-up to a satellite network she owns, so I can access the internet from anywhere in the world.
Well, that's the idea, it doesn't always work. Britain's a pretty safe bet, however, and when we got into Scruff's room we found her lying on the bed with the computer already running.
"We're online," she announced. I lay down beside her.
"Great. I need all the information you can gt about this house, Scruff, and don't tell anyone else what you find. Me or Emily. Something's not right, and I'm afraid it involves crime. If you can get into our database in London, check our guests, criminal connections, debts, suspicious payments into their accounts, anything you can pull up."
"Right-ho, Sis. What will you be doing?"
"Sleeping. It's not yet a Girl in Grey matter."
And I went off to do just that.

Priory of Death: 7

I jumped out of bed, grabbed a small torch and, still dressed in only my nice cosy pyjamas (essential in a draughty Scottish mansion in winter), tip-toed to the door of the room. Looking out I saw no-one, but then I heard a board on the stairs creak.
I followed whoever it was down the stairs, being careful to keep out of sight. You might think I didn't trust my fellow guests, and you'd be right, I didn't trust them. I know too many of them to do that. Amelia used to pull my hair at at school, and Connie may look quiet, but she loved to cause mayhem at school.
I moved silently down the stairs. I don't have to be in costume to move like a cat (Scruff adds, 'or act like one', which isn't fair). My natural grace and athleticism allowed me to move without anyone noticing.
I dropped from the half-landing to the hall and followed the night wanderer through the dining-room, into the kitchen. Stepping inside the kitchen I saw a sinister dark shape and...
"Scruff!"
"Sis!"

I have to admit Scruff looked comical. She was in her pyjamas, right forearm bandaged, a napkin in her right hand, a cold chicken drumstick guiltily on a plate beside her. But it was the dark figure beside her, whose glowing red eyes were unmistakable in the dark kitchen, that really worried me.
"Scruff! You brought Emily along?"
"She insisted!"
"I didn't threaten you!" Emily replied. She sounded pretty funny too. I guess it was the contrast between her scary appearance and her voice.
"You smuggled Emily up to Scotland? I sat down on the floor with them. "Scruff, you're impossible. That's why I love you," I hugged her.
"I didn't have any dinner," Emily explained, "so I'm raiding the fridge."
"And what's your excuse?" I asked Scruff.
"I got hungry."
"Me too," I took a piece of cold chicken and started eating it. "So, what do you two make of the guests?"
The pair exchanged glances. I laughed.
"If you're worried I'll be mad at you, don't be, I'm not very keen on them either."
"I keep wanting to shoot the dumb redhead," Emily confessed.
"They're all sort of dumb, aren't they?" Scruff said.
"They are. I suppose it's because I did something with my life and they didn't. What about the others?"
"I don't know," Emily pondered. "There's something doesn't add up. You're not cross with me because I stowed away? I wanted to see Scotland..."
"I'll go home via Kirkaldy," I promised her. That cheered the Outsider up, then she hugged me. Scruff hugged me too. I'm glad they're both smaller than me.
Suddenly I heard a door creak open. Emily vanished and Scruff and me hurried to the door. Scruff raiding a fridge would be acceptable, I'm not sure Victoria would let me forget it if I was found doing the same.
Cautiously, I looked around the doorframe.
I saw a tall figure in a long black habit moving eerily across the dining-room.

Priory of Death: 6

"Back in the Middle Ages there was a great priory here, with monks and everything," Victoria said. I tried my best to listen - not easy when the person you're listening to has a rather annoying voice. Gosh, I sound catty! Lynette's going to think I'm a horrible person! I'm not, it's just old school chums bring out the worst in me. I suppose it's because they've dedicated their fortunes to lounging around at ease while I dedicated my inheritance to fighting crime.
"The monks were all fantastically wealthy, of course..." she went on. I thought that was quite funny. Ther's no 'of course' about it, a lot of monastic foundations were very poor, especially in Scotland where some of the local big-wigs developed the charming habit of torturing priors and abbots into signing over huge amounts of money. Apparently it was quite effective - abbots and priors tend not to be trained to resist torture, and I'm not sure how I'd like being roasted over a slow fire (note to villains: I don't really want to find out either).
"...But in the Sixteenth Century the priory was ordered to be dissolved by the Protestant government, and all its lands and wealth were given to the state. The last prior was ordered to turn over the treasures of the priory to the government forces, but when they arrived the government men couldn't find the treasures, and the Prior wouldn't tell them where they were. So they took the old prior and the three of his monks who remained, and they tortured them. But none of them would tell. Eventually all four died, taking the secrets of the priory with them. The government agents completely destroyed the priory buildings looking for the treasure, but they never found it!"
"What about the ghost?" Amelia asked. Victoria smiled.
"I'm coming to that. It's said that, on stormy and windswept nights, a mysterious black cowled figure roams the priory. For centuries he walked in open ground where the great priory had once been, but when the house was built he was seen roaming its corridors."
"Spooky!" Amelia declared. "You don't believe it, do you?"
"I think it's wrong not to believe in ghosts," Victoria objected. "After all, lots of people have seen them. Sir Archibald Broun, who built the present Priory in 1847, swore he saw the ghost, and his son Keith Broun saw it too. Rev. Robert Kilbride, who was the minister in Sir Archibald Broun's day saw the ghost and wrote a book about the history of the priory because of it. I'll show you the book after dinner."
"Is the ghost really scary?" Scruff asked eagerly. "I mean, I read about one that sent people mad. And if the prior was tortured... is his skin hanging off and things like that?"
"Scruff!" I objected. "You're the limit!"
"She started talking about ghosts..."
"And you introduced the horror element. Sorry, Scruff's got a friend who likes to watch horror movies."
"Sorry," Scruff smiled. Then food was brought in.
"So, when was this old priory founded?" I asked
"Back in the Middle Ages."
I decided I wasn't going to get a sensible answer and gave up trying.

Dinner went well, and we withdrew to the library for drinks and polite conversation. Victoria produced 'A True History of Dentree Priory' by Rev. Robert Kilbride, and we admired the sturdy Victorian book.
"Here's another one," Victoria announced proudly. She produced a little Victorian book with a rather over-the-top picture on the cloth cover showing a woman being tortured by evil-looking monks. The title was 'The Devil Pit'.
"What's that?" I asked, knowing Victoria was dying to tell.
"Well, in the counter-reformation under Queen Mary a group of Jesuits used the priory ruins for their base when they were trying to re-convert Scotland. They had a torture chamber in one of the old crypts, and their most terrifying device was a pit into which they sealed their victim. The Devil was said to emerge from the bottom of the pit and take the victim off to hell."
"You don't believe that?" Connie asked with a reassuring scepticism.
"All the book says is that when the pit was opened, minutes later, the victims were no longer there. Their bodies disappeared! The Jesuits burned heretics here too, until at last the local poulation rose against them, destroyed the torture-chamber and cast the Jesuits themselves into the pit. Some people say the ghost is one of the Jesuits!"
Thrilling, I thought. Victoria can't help being dumb.
I was tired out by all that driving, so I made my excuses and went to bed early, relieved to get away from Victoria's nattering. The woman could drive a girl mad!
A little after midnight I was woken by a creaking board outside my room.

Priory of Death: 5

The grand Saloon of the Priory seemed rather empty with just us, I thought as I entered. There was Scruff, looking rather embarassing in her sweater and trousers, no shoes on, iPod earphones hanging out of the collar of her sweater.
There were five other guests, two other women, three men. One of the men wore a clerical collar, another full Highland dress (odd, since we were in Ayrshire), and the third a dinner jacket. I knew none of them. The women wore evening clothes, one, a redhead, wore a designer gown from Paris that the catty side of me thought made her look like a prostitute. The other was a quieter blonde. I recognized both of them from school, and I wished I didn't.
"Jane!" Victoria hurried over to greet me. "Jane Hill was as school with me. She's frightfully clever, and she'd have been a scientist or something if her Dad hadn't been killed in action when she was at university..."
"ACTON," I corrected her. "My Dad was killed in Acton."
"Oh... Oh well, anyhow, this is Jane, Scruff's older sister. You know Amelia Grange," that was the girl who looked like a cheap street-walker. I don't wear a cat costume for nothing. Amelia was voted 'most likely to appear on the front page of a tabloid' in our dorm. "Amelia's a jounalist in Glasgow."
"Hi," I said frostily.
"Connie Yorke you know too. She works at the Museum in Manchester."
"Which one?" I asked. Victoria shook her head.
"I don't know, one of them. This is James Hamilton, the local minister. He's a nice man..."
"Hello," I gave him my hand, which he shook warmly. I noted his Glasgow accent when he greeted me.
"Jane Hill. Victoria's said a lot about you."
"Don't believe any of it."
"Oh, I don't."
"Duncan Campbell, from Skye," was the man in Highland dress. "We met him in Edinburgh..."
"Yes, where is your husband?" I asked.
"At the station collecting our last guest. The station's twenty miles away..."
"Well, it's better than driving all the way from London."
"She was meant to be here six hours ago."
"Minor delays, then?" I joked. I knew I was going to get catty later in the night, and I don't mean I thought there'd be any crime committed.
"And..."
"Stephen Richards," the quiet-looking dinner-jacketed man introduced himself. He was almost as short as I was. Mind you, I was wearing heels, which helps. Still, he was quite a short man. "I'm in the City."
"Which city?" I was so witty that night.
"London, of course!" Victoria laughed. "Sorry, Stephen, Jane has SUCH a sense of humor!"
"I live in London," I said. "But you must be in something financial, right?
"Of course, investment banking. I met your sister..."
"Oh, Scruff!" I laughed. "She's great, isn't she?"
"I don't think coming down for dinner dressed like that..."
"I do, I just wish I had the nerve. But she's sixteen, she can get away with it."
The dinner gong sounded. I grabbed Scruff and we hurried through to the dining room.
"You're not waiting for Mr. Hoffmann?" I asked Victoria.
"He said not to. Your know the trains..."
"Not well, but well enough to drive here."
We sat down around the huge oak table, and Victoria smiled at us all.
"It's so thrilling to have you all here at the Priory," she said. "I love this house. It's got such a history. Do you want to hear one of the stories about it?"
Knowing Victoria, I thought we probably wouldn't have much of a choice.
"Go on then," I said, feeling the way I did once in a party at uni where I was the only person there who wasn't drunk.
"The house is haunted!" she exclaimed delightedly. "And I'll tell you why!"

Priory of Death: 4

It was early evening when I brought the grey Jaguar to a stop at the end of a long and bumpy drive that seemed to have been designed to wreck the suspension of lesser cars than the mighty Jag. Scruff had fallen asleep, something I wasn't best pleased about, and I think I must have looked awful. I certainly felt it. We'd eaten somewhere in Yorkshire, and that had been a very long time ago.
Dentree Priory was a splendid gothic building in the local grey stone. I rather liked it, even in the rather bleak rain. Pulling my long grey raincoat about me, I stepped out and hurried across the gravel forecourt to the front door. Although it was only a few yards from my car to the door, I was soaked to the skin by the time I got to the porch, where I rang the bell until someone opened the door of the house.
The butler looked incredibly neat and irritatingly dry. I wanted to hit him, but I wanted to be let in more.
"Good evening, Miss..." he began. Before he could say any more another voice interrupted his.
"Jane!!" it cried delightedly. I was pulled inside and my wet rain-coat was pulled off. Victoria, a rather excitable brunette who is quite a bit taller than I am, gasped in horror. I like the idea of a dumb brunette, but I like the fact of one a great deal less. Victoria means well, but that's the kindest thing I can say about her.
"Jane! You're wet through! Hawkins, show Jane to her room where she can change!"
"All my things are in the boot of my car - it's the grey Jaguar with an untidy sixteen-year-old girl asleep in the back, you can't miss it."
"Scruff!" Victoria cried delightedly, "you brought Scruff!" she hugged me, then quickly jumped back when she discovered how wet I was.
"Scruff," I smiled. "She lives with me now, you know, so I rather had to bring her along. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not! I'm so glad you get on well with your sister! Mine hates the sight of me. Oh, Hawkins, please wake up the girl in the back of the car. Make sure she doesn't get as wet as Jane is!"
Hawkins looked up from putting on some serious wet weather clothes.
"Very good, Madam."
"He came with the house," she explained. "He's a wonderful butler!"
And it was a wonderful house. I apologised to Victoria for dripping all the way up the stairs, and I was glad when I could get out of my wet clothes and into a nice hot bath. There's nothing like one of those at the end of a long, tiring journey. As I lay in the bath I heard the one in the bathroom next to mine being run. I suspected it was Scruff.
Well, I thought to myself, this is rather nice. Even if all the other guests are a pain, you've got a very nice place, and you can lose yourself somewhere here. I wondered how Victoria had found it. Not that I had much desire to buy a country house - I like my London flat, and it's so convenient for crime-fighting and dating the Green Man.
By the time I'd finished in the bath, my evening clothes were laid out on my bed. I dressed quickly and descended the grand staircase to meet my fellow guests.
I have a funny attitude to suprises. I mean that I actually like some surprises. There are others I don't like, and the identities of some of the guests would be in the latter category. What I didn't know was that one of the guests would be dead before 2007.

Priory of Death: 3

Once the car was packed Scruff and I headed off towards Scotland. I had the car radio on, and Scruff was doing something with her iPod in the back. If I'd been looking closely I'd have noticed that she only had one earphone in, and the other one seemed to becaught on one of her sleeves. In fact Emily was listening to the same track as Scruff. But I had to concentrate on driving the car, so I didn't notice.
"I hope you're not going to be withdrawing into that electronic world," I cautioned Scruff. "I need to talk to someone so I don't drop off and go off the road. So, how did you find that service at the Methodists?"
Scruff made a face.
"Sis! I didn't like it!"
"No, it was pretty awful. But then the man was an imposter who was using sermons he got off the internet while he was using his job as a cover for his crimes."
"I still think it was awesome when you jumped down from the gallery and attacked him! I SO wanted to do that!"
"Yes, well I've always wanted to hit a man for that misquoting of Matthew 23.37 too," I answered. "I just hope that people realise why I chose that part of the sermon to jump on him."
"Me too," Scruff agreed.
"And how's your youth group going?"
"Okay. We have a meal out next Friday."
"I'll take Emily to the movies or something that night. Weren't you at the movies on Wednesday?"
"Yeah. Alice's brother goes to All Souls, and he said a movie had a real clear gospel presentation. It doesn't."
"Was it any good?" That's important in a film, in my opinion. I'm funny like that.
"No. Did people ask where I was at church?"
"Yes. I said you were with Alice. Pastor told me to remind you to come to the prayer-meeting whenever you can, but I forgot."
"You think Pastor doesn't like me?"
"Oh, he likes you. He just didn't appreciate your building a tower out of copies of Gadsby's during the sermon the first time you were in church."
"I said I was sorry!"
"I'm still living it down!" I laughed.
Yes, we had a merry time all the way up. And I didn't even notice that Emily was in the car with us. She and Scruff are a regular pair of conspirators!
And there I go speaking like I was their mother, not Scruff's older sister by six years! Still, those two DO need serious watching, otherwise they get into trouble. Lots and lots of it.

Which I do too, Scruff says. And boy did I get into trouble then!

Priory of Death: 2

Scruff and I spent Friday frantically packing so we'd be ready to get off to Scotland. Christmas and New Year have always been far too hectic for me. They're too close together.
Of course, Scruff's clothes all look pretty much alike, but she still insisted on packing a whole load of them. I'm a little bit more concerned with how I look (but who isn't?Okay, Scruff isn't), and I had to pack some party frocks, not to mention my Girl in Grey outfit in a hidden compartment in my case, just in case something should happen.
"Golf clubs?" Scruff asked me as I tried to get my suitcase closed.
"Scruff, Victoria's useless at golf!"
"So you can play with her."
I gave Scruff a mean look and she ran off, laughing.
"Do you want me to help?" Emily wandered in, looking black and smoky. I feel kind of sorry for her, looking like that all the time. It's kind of limiting on her. She can't make any friends her own age, she tried once and the group of girls ran away.
"I can't get my case closed."
"Okay," Emily closed the case easily and laughed. I hugged her.
"Thanks, Emily. I hope we can find some way to change you back."
"I'm getting used to being like this," she flopped on my bed and a small dagger fell onto the floor. I've always been rather sketchy about just how many weapons Emily carries, but I count a sword, a crossbow and a few daggers. You don't want to get on the wrong side of her, she's got quite a temper. I wonder if she was originally a redhead?
"Yes, but you're a girl. You need friends your own age, not just me and Scruff."
"I like Scruff."
"Meow!"
I picked up Samantha and stroked her.
"Sorry, Samantha, Victoria's allergic to cats."
"I'd love to come," Emily said. "I've never been to Scotland, but my parents were Scottish."
"From where?"
"From Kirkaldy."
"Emily from Kirkaldy! I'll take you there some day! But you won't like it, you'd have to hide yourself."
"Oh well," Emily got up, picked up her dagger and disappeared. "I'll go over to Lynette's place."
She went, completely invisible. I went on packing.
Maybe I'd have been more concerned if I'd known Emily and Scruff had been planning to stow Emily away in my car.

Sunday With Scruff

Scruff here. Sis suggested I might like to write about the time Alice took me to an 'emerging' church that met in a club near Leicester Square.
Alice, by the way, is one of the young people who grew up at Salem. She has a boyfriend who goes to All Souls and friends who go to other churches in London. A few weeks ago she came up with the idea of us ('us' being her friends, including me) going to the Puddle Church. In disguise, of course, so the Puddle Church people wouldn't recognise us as coming from Salem.
Which is why I was wandering through London dressed as a Goth. Alice has some crazy ideas. She thought that turning up in Goth outfits would help us to fit in. And oddly enough, it sort of did.
The Puddle Church met in a seedy-looking building. Alice suggested it suited me. I thought it suited me better than fishnets and black lipstick, but that wasn't hard. And my tummy felt cold.

We walked right into the club and we were welcomed by a couple of disappointingly normally dressed people who showed us into the club. It had been fitted up with circles of chairs, a silver tree and a couple of dozen candles. They didn't have hymnbooks, so I couldn't use them to build a tower. Since the Puddle Church wanted us just to express ourselves in worship I told the pastor that, and he sent one of the members out to find some hymn-books. I thought that was very nice. The others were less pleased when twenty minutes after the service was meant to start we were still waiting.
"I'm sorry," the pastor said using his microphone, "But Lil (I sort of gave a false name) needs some hymnbooks to worship with." I got some nasty looks.
Fifteen minutes later we were ready to start. The pastor put on a CD and I started building a tower out of dog-eared copies of the Methodist Hymn-book.
Five minutes later four irate Methodists turned up and forcibly recovered the books the Puddle Church member had taken. By now the worshippers were very unhappy, some of them at me. I ignored them and tried something else. They had a sort of tree thing - some silver-painted twigs we were encouraged to stick 'leaves' with our prayers written on to. I'm not very tall, but all the low branches near me were taken.
I was even less popular after I broke their 'tree'. It didn't look the same after Alice tried to mend it with some sellotape.
Then I managed to set fire to my skirt (hey, I'm not used to people leaving candles on the floor!). After I was put out using the water that was meant for one of their other 'worship activities' someone suggested I ought to go to the City Temple, where I'd cause less chaos, which I thought was very unfair. We had a little Bible study after that, but the Puddle Church people were all using someting called 'The Message', which I accidentally called 'The Mess' during the study. It's kind of different from my little AV, but apparently I wasn't allowed to think it was wrong in some places. I did, and I upset some people. Still, because of my disguise they were all fairly supportive.
We were looking at Psalm 110. Apparently I was rumbled when I referred to John Gill. I was asked to leave, as I was suspected of being a spy from the 'Gospel Standard' Magazine, and Sis collected me soon afterwards.
I thought it was rather fun. Apart from my skirt catching fire.

[Note from the Outsider: Next! Scruff goes to a Charismatic Prosperity-Gospel Church!]

Priory of Death: 1

I unlocked the door to our London flat and pushed it open as Scruff and Emily carted our luggage up the stairs. It was good to be home, even from Sir Richard's Christmas party. He's got a wonderful family, and they're broad-minded enough not to be scared by Emily. In fact one of the Arcos grandsons got her under the Misteltoe, which we all thought was hilarious, and Emily didn't. Although she hadn't killed the boy, so she wasn't too bad with it. I got REALLY soppy with the Green Man, and Scruff got drunk on Lady Arcos' Christmas cake. Not that that's difficult, it has a whole crate of Scotch in it.
I picked up the mail, and as soon as I was out of my coat I was sat down opening it. Scruff was watching me do it, which she normally does.
"What's that one?" she asked.
"Bill."
"And that?"
"Another bill. And... Oh! It's an invitation! Mr. and Mrs Dennis Helmann request your presence at their New Year's party at Dentree Priory, Ayrshire. Who on earth...?"
Then a post-it note fell from the envelope. I read it.
Jane, it's me, Victoria, I got married.
"Victoria Patterson!" I cried. "Scruff, it's from an old school friend!"
"Will you be going?"
"Yes. And so will you. You remember Victoria!"
"Was she the one who used to pull my hair?"
"No! That was Victoria Ellis! This is Victoria Patterson. She liked you."
"Oh, her! The one who compared me to an old English Sheepdog?'
"Yes, that Victoria!"
"Can I come?" Emily entered from the kitchen, where she'd been making herself a milkshake.
"I'm afraid not. Yes, because of your appearance. I can't really explain to Victoria how I've got a girl who looks like some sort of scary ghost living with me."
"I can haunt the place."
"Definitely not! I'll call Lynette and get her to look after you for that week-end."
Emily looked disappointed, but there wasn't an awful lot I could do about that. I felt sorry for her, but she couldn't come.

It sounded like a normal invitation. It WAS a normal invitation. But things were going to happen that no-one in the party had anticipated. Well, one person had. Because that person was planning MURDER. And the killer would have got away with it too, if I hadn't been invited on the week-end, and if Emily hadn't stowed away in the car boot.

The School for Scruff: Epilogue.

We sat in the pub. The Outsider was using the darts board to keep up her skills with a crossbow, and Lady Arcos was sitting on her husband's knee polishing her tommy-gun.

"What happened?" Scruff asked me. I smiled.
"Emily helped Sir Richard's servants clear a secret tunnel that ran from his cellar to the Baron's. We decided that we had to confront him. I didn't want him dead..."
"But he was warned," Sir Richard looked lovingly into his wife's eyes. "Ah, dear Sam, do you know why I love you?"
"Yeah, 'cos I'm cute," she replied.
"Well, yes, but also because you're the only girl I know who can look cute and deadly at the same time."
"What about the school?" Scruff asked. "I made friends there."
"With a little investment it could be made into a proper school," Sir Richard answered. "No, it just so happens I've got contacts in America who'd be willing to finance it. After I remind them of the photographs our dear granddaughter Samantha took of them, anyhow. It amazes me how people like that can be so careless!"
"And you'll buy the school?"
"Good heavens, no! No, I've got a charitable trust for things like that!"
"They teach forgery and burglary there," Scruff pointed out.
"Splendid! Wonderful life skills, lass. Now, more beer. Landlord! Beer! This glass is empty, it's a scandal! And don't tell me you perishers have run out of beer! It's intolerable, man, intolerable! What's a pub without beer? It's like a baboon without fleas, a cess-pool without cess...
I smiled at Scruff, who was lying in front of the fire, now back in school uniform.
"How's Scruff?"
"Great," she replied happily.


THE END
of 'The School for Scruff'

BUT

The Girl in Grey will be back

in

THE PRIORY OF DEATH

The School for Scruff: 21.

"Von Zstrongarm, old man, I think that's excessively brutal, even for you."
I gasped in surprise. There, in the 'parlour' was Sir Richard Arcos. And he was holding a gun. Lady Arcos went one better, and she was holding a tommy-gun and wearing an expression that looked like it belonged to a gangster's moll.
"Yeah, you dirty rat," she said.
"Am I to conclude that the young lady is a friend of yours, Sir Richard?"
"You might. Grey?"

Sis smiled up from where she was lounging.
"Hi there, Baron. We just wanted to make sure she was safe before we confronted you."
"You see," Sir Richard continued, "we don't approve of this idea of yours to make yourself dictator of the world. So we're going to stop you."
"Pah! You can't..."
Suddenly all the doors of the Grange slammed shut. Emily appeared inside the room.
"We can. This is the Outsider. She's a pretty handy girl to have around. I know she doesn't look like much..."
One of the prefects went for a gun. Emily shot him through the wrist.
"No guns," Sir Richard warned. "My darling wife and I will be here to enforce that rule. And should it once be broken my little Sammykins here will no longer feel bad about squeezing the trigger on that splendid relic of days gone by that she's holding, and she'll spray the room with hot lead. You have been warned."
"Yeah," Lady Arcos said, her tone telling everyone that she was just itching to open fire. I ran to her side.
"Matron!" Von Zstrongarm boomed. Emily laughed.
"I dealt with her. You're the leader, Baron. So you're going to pay!"
She and Sis sprang on the Baron's prefects. The prefects were tough, but Sis and Emily do Judo and things like that. We watched as they laid out the prefects. Von Zstrongarm looked on in horror.
"No! My agents..."
"I've got the list, old man," Sir Richard replied. "If I send it to MI5, or the CIA, or someone like that, you might end up very dead. And if you try to jump Sam... too late."
The Baron had taken a chance, and he leaped at Lady Arcos. She discharged her tommy-gun in his chest, and then it was all over. He was very dead, and Hapt was staring at the bloodied corpse.
"Baron!" he cried. Then he tried to attack Lady Arcos and got a dozen bullets in his head.
"It's over," Sis said. She hugged me. "Thanks, Scruff."
"That's okay," I smiled. "Only don't ask me to do this again. Like ever."
"Well, not until next time," she replied with a laugh.
"And now," Sir Richard said with evident satisfaction, "shall we go down the pub?"
No-one disagreed with him.

The School for Scruff: 20.

[Still in Scotland. I think someone got murdered last night, and not by one of us]

I lay there, looking up at Emily's black smoky face, trying to discern any expression on it. No, it looked just like some black smoke, the way it usually does.
"But these are the only dry clothes I have and my arms feel awful!" I protested.
"Scruff!"
"All right," I sat up. It was still only four in the afternoon. "But I don't really feel like wandering around the College dressed like this! They're my pyjamas!"
"I don't mind going around in mine."
"No-one can tell what you're wearing, Emily," I pointed out. Emily laughed.
"Of course not."
Then she vanished. The door opened and Matron looked at me sternly.
"Scruff, I heard voices."
"I was talking to myself."
Matron looked less than convinced. Well, I thought, let her. The Outsider's invisible. No-one can see Emily when she doesn't want to be seen.
"Scruff, you're a troublemaker. Get up!"
I got up. Matron looked down at me, her eyes blazing.
"I'm watching you, young lady. And if you ONCE step out of line, you're mine!"
"She was just being friendly."
Matron turned. Emily had made herself visible again, and her red eyes seemed to be glowing more intensely than ever. Formidable though she was, Matron was obviously afraid.

"It's a trick!"
"No trick," the Outsider moved across the floor. "I'm the Outsider. I walk in the shadows, I observe this wicked world, and I watch your every move! I know your evil plans."
She drew herself up to her full height (shorter than me), and her glowing red eyes looked up into Matron's.
It was then that Matron fainted.
"Go!" Emily said.
I went. I ran from the dorm, just as I was, headed for the Grange. If Sis wanted me there, I was going. She needed me. I'd got into the school, and I was giving her information. I didn't care how many teenage boys there might be between me and the Grange.

I burst into the building and ran into the study.
"So! Our spy!"
Baron Von Zstrongarm faced me. And he was armed, not with a gun, but with a riding-crop. Haupt was there too, and several prefects. It looked very much as though I was trapped.
"Now you will learn why it is a bad idea to make yourself my enemy, Miss Hill," the Baron said. "Come into my parlour."
I had less desire to do that than any fly ever had, but I didn't have much of a choice, and when Von Zstrongarm opened the door I stepped through.