text: > look at your surroundings
  At the eastern edge of the park, at the end of a yew alley stands a modest folly, if such a paradoxical thing can exist. It's a fanciful thing in the form of a small Greek temple, all the rage in the Eighteenth century. A sturdy iron door bars the way inside.
  
  > go west
  The park is used by for the grazing of Lord Hamcester's prize herd of longhorn cattle, the finest in all England. To the north, on the other side of the ha-ha, lie the formal gardens, whilst to the east, at the end of a yew alley, is a small folly in the shape of a Greek temple. West of here, surrounded by a low fence, is a little orchard. A fruit-picking ladder can be seen leaning against one of the trees.
  
  Sparkenhoe, Lord Hamcester's prize bull, stands between you and the orchard, steam billowing from his nostrils.
  
  > Go north
  You hop nimbly over the ha-ha.
  
  An expansive lawn, dotted with ancient cedar trees. It is connected, by way of a gravel path, to a shrubbery in the east, and by a stone archway to a walled vegetable garden in the west. To the south, on the other side of the ha-ha, lies the park.
  
  Over by the stone archway, a small, wiry man in a cloth cap snips lackadaisically at a box hedge with a pair of garden shears. Occasionally, he peers through the archway into the vegetable garden, as though making certain there is nothing amiss.
  
  > ask the Lady about Amos
  "Amos is our Head Gardener," says Lady Hamcester. She raises her hand and squints in the direction of the shrubbery. "I think he's working in the shrubbery — yes, there he is."
  
  > ask the Lady about the bull
  "My husband's prize bull, Monsieur Perroquet," says Lady Hamcester. "You'll find him down in the park, if you're interested in that sort of thing."
  
  > go north
  By far the grandest room in the house, the saloon was once the state dining room. It is now rarely used for entertaining and has instead become a repository for old Hamcester's hideous collection of porcelain. The Axminster carpet is decorated with a delicate pattern of daisies.
  
  To the north and east are the great hall and the dining room respectively. The collection room lies to the west, whilst to the south, French windows open onto the terrace.
  
  > Go upward
  From here the grand staircase descends to the great hall. The landing forms part of the long gallery, a grandiose room stretching from east to west across the entire frontage of the building. The long gallery at Bunkham Hall, of course, was built in 1768, a century after the invention of the corridor had rendered such spaces redundant. A large picture window to the north affords splendid views of the drive, whilst to the south is a closed door.
  
  > examine the window
  The large picture window affords a splendid view of the drive.
  
  From somewhere to the east of here, you hear the sounds of a struggle. It sounds as though some heavy object were being wrenched from side to side.
  
  > Go east
  At the east end of the gallery are doors leading north and south giving access, presumably, to family bedrooms. The gallery continues to the west, passing the head of the stairs. Here, the oak panelling has been disfigured by portraits of Hamcester's forebears.
  
  Chief among these plug-uglies is the eighth Earl, Lord Hamcester's father, who casts his disapproving, beetle-browed gaze along the entire length of the gallery.
  
  > look at Earl
  From a stiff Victorian collar protrudes a face like a bulldog with a mouthful of lemon sherbet, froth included. With this pugnacious old blister for a father, it's little wonder that Lord Hamcester turned out the way he did.
  
  From somewhere to the north of here, you hear the sounds of a struggle. It sounds as though some heavy object were being wrenched from side to side.
  
  > go north
  This, the smallest bedroom in the house, is crammed to the gills with souvenirs of the Major's various expeditions. In one corner a narrow cot lies beneath a tent of mosquito netting; a gigantic wardrobe dominates the corner opposite. The wardrobe is closed.
  
  From here, the only exit leads south, to the east gallery.
  
  Hanging on the wall is an Amazonian blowpipe.
  
  The wardrobe rocks back and forth upon its feet, as though a wild animal had been shut up inside it.
  
  > look at the cot
  A no-nonsense metal army cot. Not one for creature comforts, this Major.
  
  The wardrobe gives a sort of violent shudder, as though something untoward were going on within.
  
  > talk to wardrobe
  The wardrobe does not respond.
  
  The wardrobe hops a few inches across the floor, as though playing host to some Herculean struggle.
  
  > examine the blowpipe
  A weapon favoured by tribesmen of the Amazonian rainforest. As you understand it, one simply inserts a curare-tipped dart, or similar projectile in the one end, takes aim, blows into the other end, and Bob's your late uncle. It's rather like the pea-shooter you had as a lad, only more deadly. This one is empty.
  
  The wardrobe is rattling and shaking from side to side, as though a wild animal had been shut up inside it.
  
  > get it
  Taken.
  
  The wardrobe hops a few inches across the floor, as though playing host to some Herculean struggle.
  
  > examine wardrobe
  A Victorian mahogany wardrobe with a moulded cornice and two arched panelled doors, currently closed.
  
  The wardrobe gives a sort of violent shudder, as though something untoward were going on within.
  
  > open it
  The Major tumbles from the wardrobe with his arms wrapped around a large mink coat.
  
  "Blasted grizzlies," he says "you never know where they're going to turn up next." He stamps up and down on the unfortunate coat until he is quite satisfied that it is dead, before slinging it over his shoulder. "Piece of advice," he says, "never step on the cracks in the pavement." With that he leaves the room, hopping from one tile to the next like a child playing hopscotch.
  
  > look at the wardrobe
  A Victorian mahogany wardrobe with a moulded cornice and two arched panelled doors, currently open.
  
  In the wardrobe is a shoebox.
  
  > look at the shoebox
  A cardboard box, formerly home to a pair of brown Oxfords, size nine. A number of holes have been punched in the lid, and the words "coleoptera incertae sedis" are scrawled in childish letters on the side.
  
  > examine the scarab
  For a moment you were fooled — this looks almost exactly like the jewelled scarab, a Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty, that you saw a few weeks ago at auction. It is, however, a very clever reproduction.
  
  Of course, there is only one reasonable explanation for why old Hamcester would keep a fake scarab in his display case. The reputation of the illustrious 'Magpie' has by now spread far and wide. No doubt the original is stored somewhere more secure, and you've a sneaking suspicion that he'd keep it somewhere close at hand. If only there were an opportunity to make a thorough search of that office.
  
  One might as well play the role of the great detective, and show the thing to Lady Hamcester.
  
  > get scarab
  Taken.