Priory of Death: The shocking truth!

"I..."
"I took the liberty of doing some snooping, and while I might not be the world's greatest detective, I found your black habit!"

I pushed back the book-case. Victoria stared in horror at the garment.
"I always thought you'd get into bad habits," I told her. "But MURDER is the very worst!"
"I..."
"Like I said, Victoria, you made the mistake of assuming everything you read in two very doubtful books was true. But I'm a detective, and a very good one. That's why you tried to kill me, isn't it?"
"I... How could I have killed Connie?"
"You followed her to the Pit and turned on the mechanism while she was in there, then your accomplice moved the two bodies. He used a recording of you screaming to alert me and set me on a false trail. Only I didn't fall for your trick. And I know you've got a gun in that sporran, Mr. Campbell, so don't try to draw it."
"Or I might shoot you somewhere serious," The Outsider materialised slowly, crossbow held ready. Amelia screamed.
"A ghost! This place is haunted!"
"No, the Outsider. She's a friend of mine - and a handy shot with a crossbow."

Emily demonstrated, her bolt pinning Mr. Campbell's kilt to his chair.
"Mr. Duncan Campbell, alias 'the Highlander', Glasgow hitman," I said. "You and Victoria set this place up as a trap. Lure people out here and kill them with the 'Devil Pit'."
"But Mr. Hamilton..." Amelia began.
"A former Glasgow gangster and police informer. That's why he was killed. And where is your husband, Victoria?"
"I told you, at the station waiting for a train."
"Really?"
"Really! Look, I screwed up on this place, I believed the stories, but I really do have a husband, and he really is at the station."
"No he isn't," the door opened and a man I didn't recognise entered with a dozen police officers. "I was waiting for an expert to come from London, and she was a few days late. Ah, the Girl in Grey. I heard you were here. I see you've just exposed my wife as a killer. Detective Inspector Hoffmann, Glasgow Police."
"We're married!" Victoria wailed.
"Not really. You see, the minister who performed the ceremony wasn't a minister. All right, men, take them away."
"What's that?" one of the officers was staring at Emily.
"She's called the Outsider, and she dosn't like being stared at."
"No," Emily made herself invisible again.
The criminals were removed. D.I. Hoffmann sat down at the table.
"Now, I don't want this New Year's party to be a total disaster. Is there any more breakfast?"
"That goes for me too," Emily reappeared and sat down.

And we actually had rather a good time too.


THE END
of 'Priory of Death'
But the Girl in Grey will be back in

'DOUBLE TROUBLE'

Priory of Death: 21

"A fake!" Victoria cried.

"You've all been looking at this wrong," I said seriously. You've been asking whether things that happened centuries ago could affect things now. The real question is whether things that never happened at all could affect things now.
"This book," I picked up Rev. Robert Kilbride's book, "is a work of fiction from beginning to end. I checked - which is very easy to do these days. There are no records of a Dentree Priory before 1847..."
"But there wasn't a house here before that," Victoria objected.
"There was. Dentree House, a very boring, very ordinary house. Not open ground strewn with bits of priory the way Kilbride tells it. And before Dentree House was built in the 17th Century there was a Medieval fortified house."
"And the Priory?"
"THIS is the Priory, the only building called the Priory there's ever been on this site."
"What about the ruins?"
"Fake, follies. That was what disturbed poor Connie. There was no order to the ruins, no ground-plan. And the carved stonework was a hodge-podge of periods, pieces taken from real Medieval sites. I checked one of the old walls. It hasn't enough foundation to stand much higher than it is, but it's supposed to have been part of an incredibly rich priory. There never was a real priory here, there never were any monks here, so there was no concealed treasure, no Prior and his faithful monks to torture. It was all a story made up when the house was built. Robert Kilbride and his friend Sir Archibald Broun were Romantics. It was fashionable to call houses 'castle' or 'priory' back then. That didn't mean it was on a real monastic site, and Kilbride's original readers would have understood this. Look at the book, it's got acres of dialogue, details of the sort of things that were unlikely to have been recorded, and no details at all of the things that would have been in real histories. It's a conceit, an invented history for an invented house.

"The monasteries in this part of Scotland weren't destroyed in the Reformation at all, they were destroyed by English troops BEFORE the Reformation, when Henry VIII wanted to force the infant Mary Queen of Scots to marry his infant son Edward. What's more, small monastic foundations in Scotland weren't rich then, they were usually very poor. Local nobles used them as slush funds. Kilbride's story isn't a real story of the Reformation, it's a 19th century Romantic's story of the Reformation.
"The bit about the Jesuit torture-chamber is another piece of fiction. In England Bloody Mary had protestants burned, but Mary Queen of Scots never had the authority to arrest protestants - and she never tried to. Her 'counter reformation' was a charm offensive. She was young and pretty and charming, and she could make the Catholic Church look attractive. These stories about torture reflect a Victorian, not a 16th century, mind.
"As for 'The Devil Pit', the idea of the Jesuits being in league with the Devil is a Protestant one. No Roman Catholic would say such a thing..."
"But the Roman Catholic Church burned all those people..." Victoria began. I shook my head.
"No, Victoria, the Roman Catholic Church never burned anyone. Medieval society was very ordered, a place for everyone and everyone in his place. The Church didn't kill, it handed people over to the state to be killed. The story of the Devil Pit by James Broun is just imitation Edgar Allen Poe. It never happened in Scotland, it never happened in England - it never happened anywhere. But a Protestant public was eager for stories about the wickedness of Rome and wasn't soo concerned whether or not they were true. Broun was writing an alternative fake history to Kilbride's of a generation before."
"But the pit..."
"A Medieval well that the killer specially adapted," I replied. "The pointing in the walls of the pit was new, not centuries old. The equipment was in perfect working order - things like that only stay working without being maintained in the movies."
"How did you escape?"
"Brains. The killer was pretty clever too, but made two mistakes. The first was believing eveything they read in Victorian histories, the second was trying to kill ME in the pit."
"Who did it?" Victoria asked in wonder.
"Don't give me that, Victoria Hoffmann. YOU did it!"

Priory of Death: 20

I was woken bright and early by The Outsider jumping on my bed. I'd locked the door, but she'd come in under it. There was a girl who could do a locked-room murder and get away with it.
"What?" I asked sleepily.
"It's Scruff. All the guests are clean."
"Great. Thanks."
"Grey!"
I sat up.
"Outsider, I had my reasons for asking Scruff to do that, and the result's confirmed my suspicions. I think we're looking at a hit here, a gangland assassination. One of a very peculiar kind too."
"I'll tell Scruff you're fine and being mysterious," she poked me. I poked her back.
"You do that."
I got up, showered and dressed in my close-fitting grey costume. Then I went downstairs. The butler was still giving me lustful looks, but maybe he didn't think I noticed.
"Hi," I strolled into the breakfast room and sat down. "How are people?"
"Did you find the killer?" Mr. Richards asked. I nodded.
"Oh yes, I know who killed James Hamilton and Connie Yorke."
"Was it the Prior's curse?" Amelia asked me earnestly.
"I fail to see how events five hundred years ago can affect us today," Mr. Richards answered tartly.
"That's because you're a materialist," Victoria scolded him. "Didn't Scruff see the ghost? And didn't Mr. Hamilton vanish in the Pit?"

"No to both," I told them. "I'm sorry, but the 'ghost' was just someone dressed as a monk. It OPENED doors. Yet this building wan't here in the Middle Ages. A real ghost would just have walked through a wall."
"The Pit?"
"It's a machine. A vicious killing machine, but a machine nonetheless. I know because someone tried to kill me in it last night. Unfortunately for them, I survived. The floor lowers, then the ceiling drops down onto it, crushing the victim and leaving an empty floor when the door's opened. Connie was killed there too. I only managed to escape because I have resources the killer didn't know about."
"You mean the Jesuits built a huge killing machine in the old well-shaft?" Amelia was fascinated. They all were. I shook my head.
"No, Amelia, I don't. You see, the Jesuits didn't build anything here."
"Then the monks?"
"No. Because there never were any monks here either."
"But..." Victoria sounded confused. "You mean...?"
"I do," I nodded. They were hanging on my every word. "Dentree Priory is a fake."

Priory of Death: 19

Emily and I got back to the surface as quickly as we could, and we crossed the moonlit garden rapidly, on the look-out for people dressed as monks. Emily had her crossbow ready to shoot anyone who might possibly try to harm us. It was a good thing for the killer that we saw no-one. We went into the house again and silently climbed the stairs to Scruff's bedroom.
Scruff was already at the computer when we entered her room. In her pyjamas, lying on her bed, she looked pretty funny.
"Oh! It's you two. What happened?"
"Someone tried to kill me," I said as if it was no big deal.
"No! How?"
"Using the Pit. We found out how it works. What have you got on Hamilton?"
"James Hamilton, Church of Scotland minister of Dentree, ordained two years ago."
"And before that?"
"That's just it, Grey, there IS no record of him before that! He just kind of happens! He appears suddenly without any previous existence!"
That was a turn-up for the books.
"Do you have a picture of him?"
"Yes. I found one online. I'm cross-referencing it now with our files and the files of every police department in the United Kingdom."

"Start with Glasgow. He had a Glaswegian accent, which might be a clue."
"Okay, Grey, I'll narrow down the search."
She began to work on that. Emily and I watched in fascination. Neither of us are exactly ignorant of computers, but Scruff's a complete genius with them. I think she's hacked her way into computers and databases that everyone else thinks are completely safe. She's quite amazing, even Scotland Yard don't know how she gets in and out.
Computers are so much fun. Back in the old days you actually had to physically break into Scotland Yard to get that sort of information, now you can break in from the comfort of your own arm-chair. Or bed, in Scruff's case.
"Here we are!" she gasped. "Look!"
Angus McGregor, former Glasgow gangster. And, I noticed, a police informer!
"Where is this record?"
"A top-level database. It's a list of former police informers who've been given new identities. Apparently McGregor was converted and wanted to be ordained..."
There was my motive. Of course no-one had any reason to kill James Hamilton, because there was no such person! But a lot of people would want to kill a former gangland informer, a 'grass'.
"Is it enough?" The Outsider asked me anxiously. I nodded.
"It's enough for me. Scruff, cross-reference our fellow guests with Glasgow gangland."
"Will do, chief," she grinned. "And you?"
"I'm going to bed."
And I went too.

Priory of Death: 18

"Outsider!" I called. "I'm trapped in one of those descending ceiling traps!"
"Okay!"
A cloud of black smoke shot through the grille in the door, resolved itself into Emily, and jumped down to join me. Meanwhile I was using my lock-picking equipment to try to unlock the lower door.
"It's no good," I sighed. The door was locked by bolts, bolts probably shot by the mechanism.
"We'll smash it down," Emily told me.
"It's solid oak..."
"Watch me!"
The Outside ran at the door and bouced off, landing in a rather undignified position on the floor.
"Plan B!" she called. She dissolved into a gas again and drifted up to the ceiling, passing through the small round hole in it.
I could do nothing, just lue on my back and watch the huge stone slab slowly descend. It was at the level of the first door now, at the top of it. Ten more feet to a very nasty death, I thought as the stone slab got closer and closer. Half-way down the first door. At the bottom of it... At the top of the second door...
I'm not claustrophobic, but this was making me feel that way. I was very glad I'd brought the Outsider with me. How she does her dissolving business, I don't know, and how she makes her weapons dissolve too is a mystery. I suppose it's Indian magic, and WAY outside my Western categories. Or something. Still, there I was, lying at the bottom of a dry well-shaft watching a huge slab of stone slowly descending on me. I'm small and slim - and quite slim enough already, thank you very much.
The stone was three feet from my face, two feet, one foot, six inches... I felt its pressure on my chest...
Then it stopped.
"You okay?" Emily's voice called.
"I'm still alive!" I called back. "But I'm wedged! What did you do?"
"Shoved a crossbow-bolt in the mechanism."
"You dear, sweet Outsider! Can you bring it up again?"
"I'll try!"
It seemed like I was waiting for ever, feeling every jolt as the Outsider shinned up the rope (or chain) to switch the mechanism to bring the ceiling up again. At last, however, I felt the great weight lifted off me, and I breathed in a great lungfull of air as the huge stone slab began to ascend once more.
Emily landed beside me, black and smoky as ever, her red eyes shining like two live coals.
"I did it!"
"You did it, kid." the door unlocked, and we both rushed out into the stone tunnel. I've never felt so glad to be in a damp, dark stone tunnel before in my life. I didn't even mind the water in the bottom of it.

"Wow!" Emily said with feeling. "You're alive!"
"Thanks to you, Black-and-Smoky. And no thanks to whichever of the people at the Priory turned on that machine! It's kind of... it's kind of over the top, even for pressing cider."
Emily laughed.
"Your sense of humour!"
"What else can you do when someone just tried to crush you under several tons of stone?"
"Imperial or metric?"
"Whichever's larger," I replied. "Emily! you saw the mechanism..."
"I did. It could be quite old."
"It could be, but it was in perfect working order, wasn't it?"
"Yes, oiled, greased... I see what you mean, Grey!"
"Yes, things like that only stay working for centuries in the movies. In reality they break down, they corrode, they decay."
"This one looked like it was serviced last week."
"I know who the killer is," I declared.
"Who?"
"I'll tell you later. You see, right now I need a motive for killing Hamilton." I laughed. "The killer made two mistakes, and because of those - I win!"

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.

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!