text: > Go downwards
  This commodious entranceway is dominated by a broad flight of white marble steps leading up to the first floor. Alabaster columns keep the gilded ceiling in a state of harmonious separation from the marble floor. On the south wall, facing the front door is a carved escutcheon representing the Hamcester coat of arms, beneath which is the entrance to the saloon. To the east is the drawing room, and to the west, the library.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the muffled protestations of Hives.
  
  > go west
  The library of an English country house is an oasis of calm amid the hubbub of domestic life; the perfect place, should one feel so inclined, for a spot of light murder. The library at Bunkham Hall has a long and chequered history, and its chequered floor still bears the faint traces of numerous chalk outlines. Tall walnut bookcases line walls of crimson silk damask. East is the great hall, and a closed door to the north takes you to Lord Hamcester's study.
  
  A leather wingback armchair lounges invitingly against the south wall. Today's edition of the Times lies discarded on the seat.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear a sudden crash.
  
  > Go north
  (first opening the study door)
  
  A small, cosy study, impeccably neat, with walnut panelling and a leather-topped desk of a similar complexion. There are a few homely touches; a framed newspaper clipping and a photograph hang on the wall beside you. A sturdy wooden chair faces the desk. The door, leading south into the library, is open.
  
  A ghastly amateur watercolour hangs above the desk.
  
  On the walnut desk is a pamphlet.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the muffled protestations of Hives.
  
  > read the pamphlet
  "Rules and Regulations of the St Bartholomew-on-the-Bog annual Village Fête cucumber growing competition. Rule 1: Under no circumstances may radium-based fertilizers be used in the cultivation of cucumbers entered in the competition."
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the tinkle of breaking porcelain.
  
  > move the watercolour
  Nothing obvious happens.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the muffled protestations of Hives.
  
  > Open watercolour
  It isn't something you can open.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear a sudden crash.
  
  > examine it
  A small framed watercolour depicting Bunkham Hall at sunset as rendered by Lord Hamcester himself. Somehow it contrives to make the Hall look even more ill-proportioned than it is in real life. The painting sticks out from the wall rather further than you might expect it to.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the bellowing of the enraged Sparkenhoe.
  
  > pull it
  You pull the watercolour.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the muffled protestations of Hives.
  
  > get it
  Just as you thought! A wall safe, concealed behind the painting! No wonder Lord Hamcester got so jumpy when you went near it. You rub your hands in anticipation; no safe is safe from the 'Magpie'!
  
  Except, of course, the Biggleman Super-Deluxe, the most fiendishly uncrackable safe ever devised. Which this is. Your smile flickers for a fraction of a second.
  
  The Biggleman Super-Deluxe has an alphabetical dial, rather than a numerical one. The combination could be any six letter word, chosen by the purchaser. To open the safe, one merely needs to spin the dial to that very word. If only you knew what the word was — but discovering it should be child's play to the illustrious 'Magpie'!
  
  You are suddenly aware that it has gone very quiet in the saloon...
  
  > Spin dial to Magpie
  Click! and nothing else happens.
  
  > open safe
  The safe will open only when the dial is spun to the correct combination. The Biggleman Super-Deluxe has an alphabetical dial, rather than a numerical one. The combination could be any six letter word, chosen by the purchaser. To open the safe, one merely needs to spin the dial to that very word. If only you knew what the word was
  —
  but discovering it should be child's play to the illustrious 'Magpie'!
  
  Lord Hamcester barges into the study, slamming the door behind him.
  
  "What are you doing with that?" says Hamcester, indicating the painting in your hands. He glances over at the wall safe, and back at you.
  
  "I just couldn't resist taking a closer look, your Lordship," you say giving him the old oil, "the brushwork is exquisite. Simply exquisite." His Lordship snatches the painting from your hands and hangs it carefully back on the wall.
  
  "Be that as it may," he says, "I've got my eye on you, Drake. Your behaviour is odd for a psychotherapist. Dashed odd."
  
  > Go south
  (first opening the study door)
  
  The library of an English country house is an oasis of calm amid the hubbub of domestic life; the perfect place, should one feel so inclined, for a spot of light murder. The library at Bunkham Hall has a long and chequered history, and its chequered floor still bears the faint traces of numerous chalk outlines. Tall walnut bookcases line walls of crimson silk damask. East is the great hall, and an open door to the north takes you to Lord Hamcester's study.
  
  A leather wingback armchair lounges invitingly against the south wall. Today's edition of the Times lies discarded on the seat.
  
  > go to the south
  Bunkham Hall's grandest room has become a scene of devastation to rival the ruins of Pompeii. Barely a stick of furniture remains intact, and Hamcester's hideous collection of porcelain lies in fragments on the floor. The Axminster carpet is decorated with a delicate pattern of daisies and fragrant, steaming cowpats. 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, the remains of some French windows open onto the terrace.
  
  > look at the porcelain
  Nowhere is Hamcester's egregious lack of taste more evident than in this collection of porcelain. One can only imagine that he picked it up as a job-lot in a local jumble sale. Fortunately, most of it is now scattered about the floor in minute fragments. Amongst the survivors are a Ting Dynasty vase, a Staffordshire pearlware figure of an orange-haired clown and a china lamb.
  
  > Go south
  You step out into the bright sunshine.
  
  A charming terrace, surrounded by an Italian balustrade, and replete with statues of dancing fauns, ornamental urns and what-not. In the centre is a set of cast-iron garden furniture, doing what cast-iron garden furniture does best.
  
  Stone steps lead southwards onto the lawn, east and west to the gravel sweep, whilst to the north French windows invite you to enter the saloon.
  
  Lady Hamcester sits on a cast-iron garden chair, leafing through a brochure for the R.M.S. Aquitania.
  
  Standing beside the countess is a rather dishevelled Hives. He bears, in his twiglike arms, a silver tray, about which are buzzing a number of wasps. "I regret to report that dinner will be delayed indefinitely, Madam," says the butler, "owing to a mishap in the dining room."
  
  "Not another mishap, Hives?"
  
  "Yes, madam. Bread and treacle is the best I am able to offer, your Ladyship, until a replacement set of tableware can be located."
  
  But before the butler can dish up the comestibles, a wild figure jumps out from behind a statue of a prancing faun. It is the Major, brandishing a slingshot of gigantic proportions.
  
  "Japanese hornets!" he cries. "Beastly devils. Stand back, I'm a dead shot!" Leaping up onto the balustrade, the Major pulls back the elastic and lets fly a large stone. The projectile misses the wasps, but hits the tin of treacle square-on. The badly dented tin sails end-over-end, before clattering to the flagstones not far from your feet, where the treacle oozes into a large puddle.
  
  "I think you had better cancel bread and treacle, too, Hives," says Lady Hamcester. The butler sighs, and retreats into the house, followed by the Major.
  
  > look at the treacle
  Ah — this takes you back. When you were a nipper, a piece of bread
  and
  treacle was the only thing that would keep you quiet. One can hardly yell and shout when one's jaws are glued together. The tin is badly dented and lying on its side; the contents have long since oozed into a large puddle on the flagstones.
  
  > take the tin
  You decide, on reflection, to leave the sticky tin alone. The contents have long since oozed into a large puddle on the tabletop.
  
  > Go east
  This gravel sweep is a path that extends from the terrace steps to the west and runs along the south front. A side path winds south into a pretty shrubbery. Directly above is a balcony.
  
  You can see a ladder (leaning against the balcony) here.
  
  > Go south
  A very pretty shrubbery, with a gravel path that winds between banks of hardy shrubs. Hollyhocks and azaleas add a splash of colour to the proceedings. The path weaves north to the gravel sweep surrounding the house, and west to the lawn.
  
  Amos Bunyon, the impossibly hirsute head gardener is going about his business.
  
  Amos plucks a thistle from the ground without so much as flinching.
  
  > give the whiskey to Amos
  (first taking the decanter of whiskey (drugged))
  Amos winks, and taking the decanter in one of his great, grimy paws, knocks back the lot in one go. For the briefest of moments he continues to stand there grinning, decanter in hand, and then, slowly, his eyes cross and he keels over backwards into the azaleas. But for the pair of wellingtons sticking out of the shrubbery and a loud snore, you'd never know he was there.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > remove the moustache
  You take off the ginger moustache.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > wear the beard
  You hook the beard over your ears, instantly transforming you into the likeness of Amos Bunyon, head gardener.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > About you
  You are Sir Rodney Playfair; dashing, debonair and devilishly handsome. Not perhaps in the first flush of youth, but very sprightly for a man of sixty. That touch of grey at the temples lends you an air of authority, a useful attribute for getting one out of a scrape.
  
  Not that anyone would recognise you now; the 'Magpie' is a master of disguise and right now you're the spitting image of Amos Bunyon, Head Gardener at Bunkham Hall.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > go west
  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 casts you a suspicious glance.
  
  > go to the west
  The under-gardener nods as you pass through the archway. "Afternoon, mister Amos."
  
  A walled vegetable garden in whose well-tended beds grow runner beans, tomatoes and other worthy comestibles of only passing interest to a gentleman thief. The kitchen garden is connected via a stone archway to the lawn in the east.
  
  Dominating the north side of the garden is a gigantic cucumber frame, containing an enormous cucumber. The frame is securely padlocked.
  
  > examine the cucumber
  "A cucumber a day keeps the Parthians away" as the Emperor Tiberius used to say. This one is certainly fit for an emperor, it can't be less than three feet long. There is something almost serpentine in its sinuous curves.
  
  > Go east
  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.
  
  > go east
  A very pretty shrubbery, with a gravel path that winds between banks of hardy shrubs. Hollyhocks and azaleas add a splash of colour to the proceedings. The path weaves north to the gravel sweep surrounding the house, and west to the lawn.
  
  Amos Bunyon, the impossibly hirsute head gardener lies fast asleep among the azaleas. But for the pair of wellingtons sticking out of the shrubbery, you'd never know he was there.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > search Amos
  You find nothing of interest.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > examine amos
  A giant of a man in size 15 wellingtons and a leather jerkin. His face is almost entirely hidden behind a spectacular black beard that gives him a somewhat piratical air. He's currently sleeping off the Mickey Finn you slipped him earlier.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > take the wellingtons
  The beard alone should be enough to pull off a convincing impersonation. The rest is all in the voice and the gestures, of which you are a true master. You've found in the past that people tend to get a general impression, and not notice the fine details.
  
  A stentorian snore issues from within the azaleas.
  
  > look at the beans
  The vegetables, though no doubt delicious, are of only passing interest to a gentleman thief. The contents of the cucumber frame, however, suggest certain interesting possibilities to what Doctor Drake would no doubt have described as your unconscious mind.
  
  > examine the frame
  A gigantic cucumber frame, containing an enormous cucumber. The frame is securely padlocked.
  
  In the cucumber frame is an enormous cucumber.
  
  > open frame
  (first unlocking the cucumber frame)
  You lack a key that fits the padlock on the cucumber frame, and to compound the problem, you are also without your lockpicks. This puts you in rather a sticky situation, but sticky times call for simple solutions — "in case of emergency, break glass".
  
  > Break frame
  A perfectly creditable idea, but the noise would draw unwelcome attention from the under-gardener, who is standing just outside. Perhaps if there were a way to dampen the sound...
  
  > look at what you're carrying with you
  You have about your person a silver tray, on top of which is a soda syphon (full), a small brown bottle (empty), a priceless jewelled scarab (fake), an Amazonian blowpipe (loaded with a knockout drop), two bananas, a book entitled Psychology To-day, a ginger
  moustache, a telegram and a gramophone record entitled La Gazza
  Ladra.
  
  Stashed safely in the secret pocket of your form-fitting tweed suit, are the famous Jaroda Pearls, a Georgian ruby ring and a black and white feather.
  
  You are also wearing a false beard, rendering you indistinguishable from Amos Bunyon, Head Gardener at Bunkham Hall.
  
  > Go east
  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.
  
  > go to the north
  A charming terrace, surrounded by an Italian balustrade, and replete with statues of dancing fauns, ornamental urns and what-not. In the centre is a set of cast-iron garden furniture, doing what cast-iron garden furniture does best.
  
  Stone steps lead southwards onto the lawn, east and west to the gravel sweep, whilst to the north French windows invite you to enter the saloon.
  
  A badly dented tin of treacle is lying on its side in the middle of the terrace. Its contents have oozed into a large puddle on the flagstones, providing a mid-afternoon repast for a number of wasps.
  
  Lady Hamcester sits on a cast-iron garden chair, leafing through a brochure for the R.M.S. Aquitania.
  
  > Go north
  "Amos!" says Lady Hamcester with some asperity, "I will not have you clomping about the house in those muddy boots of yours. Haven't you got some work to be getting on with?"
  
  > Go east
  This gravel sweep is a path that extends from the terrace steps to the west and runs along the south front. A side path winds south into a pretty shrubbery. Directly above is a balcony.
  
  You can see a ladder (leaning against the balcony) here.
  
  > Go upwards
  You ascend the ladder and step onto the East Balcony.
  
  The balcony offers splendid views of the park and grounds. Directly ahead is a shrubbery where a hirsute gardener snoozes among the azaleas. French windows lead back into the green room. A ladder leans against the balustrade.
  
  > go north
  This out-of-the-way room is used as a storehouse for furniture not currently in use. There are a great number of such pieces here, draped in dustsheets, along with sundry other items such as rolled tapestries and quaint candlesticks of dubious taste. The dusty velvet curtains have been thrown open, allowing the summer sunshine to flood the room.
  
  The only exit leads south, to the west gallery.
  
  An old trunk, previously unnoticed, now lies illuminated by a ray of sunshine. The trunk is closed.
  
  > look at the tapestries
  Rather moth-eaten.
  
  > Yes
  cheapglulxe quit with exit status: 0