text: > look around
  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.
  
  Lord Hamcester sits at his desk, working on his speech.
  
  Lord Hamcester closes the study door.
  
  > 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.
  
  The door slams shut behind you.
  
  > go to the east
  The state dining room is a splendid rectangular room with flamboyantly decorated walls and ceilings; a little overdone, perhaps, but that's the Regency for you. The room is dominated by the vast, antique mahogany dining table and a set of matching chairs. The only other furniture of note is a small glass-fronted curio cabinet which stands between the two south-facing windows.
  
  North is the drawing room, and west the saloon.
  
  The butler, Hives, is busy laying the table for dinner.
  
  On the dining table are a red velvet tablecloth and an impressive array of silverware, glassware and crockery.
  
  Hives carefully places a service plate on the table.
  
  > Search table
  On the dining table are a red velvet tablecloth and an impressive array of silverware, glassware and crockery.
  
  Hives carefully places a fish fork on the table.
  
  > examine the tablecloth
  Bright red.
  
  Hives carefully places a white wine glass on the table.
  
  > ask Hives for the pepper
  You have no reason to discuss that with Hives at present.
  
  Hives carefully places a salad knife on the table.
  
  > ask Hives about the dinner
  "I really could not say, Sir."
  
  Hives carefully places a dinner fork on the table.
  
  > ask Hives about the gorilla
  You would rather keep your lips sealed about that particular subject.
  
  Hives carefully places a sherry glass on the table.
  
  > go to the north
  (first opening the front door)
  You step out into the bright sunshine.
  
  Bunkham Hall began life as a modest country house in the Jacobean style. In 1768, the fourth Earl of Hamcester had it remodelled by Robert Addams, a jobbing builder with no architectural training who traded rather lucratively on the reputation of his talented near-namesake Robert Adam. Whereas Adam's buildings are noted for their elegant proportions and scrupulous attention to detail, Addams's by contrast are noted for their inelegant proportions and tendency to collapse if you so much as look askance at them. It's amazing the house has lasted this long.
  
  At first glance, Bunkham Hall is a pleasant enough example of Eighteenth Century neoclassicism, but the more one looks, the less harmonious it appears in its general proportions. The façade is asymmetrical, the scalloped Rococo window frames totally out of keeping. The ionic portico, beneath which the front door leads inwards, is much too squat, and appears to be listing to one side.
  
  Here begins the long driveway that doesn't so much connect the Hall with the village to the north as keep it at a safe distance.
  
  > examine the portico
  One wonders whether the architect had been drinking when he built it.
  
  > climb it
  You should look exceedingly foolish.
  
  > Go north
  A narrow country lane connecting the village, to the east, with the railway station, to the west. You walked along it only this morning, and a very pleasant walk it was too. To the north are tall hedgerows, behind which are presumably fields of some sort, whilst to the south, via the drive, lies Bunkham Hall. The chimney of what can only be Bunkham Manor, home of Sir Humphrey Leghorn, can be seen protruding from the hedges to the east.
  
  > examine the chimney
  Bunkham Manor, home to Sir Humphrey Leghorn, lies just to the east of here. Only its chimney and part of the thatched roof are visible above the hedge.
  
  > Go east
  According to your Bradshaw's Guide, the village of St Bartholomew-on-the-Bog has many enticing features including a charming tea shop, an attractive duck pond and a statue of a fat balloonist, but sadly there's just no room in your itinerary this afternoon. The railway station, and London, lie in the other direction.
  
  > go west
  You're not leaving without the jewelled scarab. And who knows what other gems might be squirrelled away amongst the bric-a-brac at Bunkham Hall? No, there is a time for catching trains back to London, and this is not it.
  
  > Go south
  At first glance, Bunkham Hall is a pleasant enough example of Eighteenth Century neoclassicism, but the more one looks, the less harmonious it appears in its general proportions. The façade is asymmetrical, the scalloped Rococo window frames totally out of keeping. The ionic portico, beneath which the front door leads inwards, is much too squat, and appears to be listing to one side.
  
  Here begins the long driveway that doesn't so much connect the Hall with the village to the north as keep it at a safe distance.
  
  > examine the pipe
  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.
  
  > look at the bottle
  "Dr. Turkee's patent Knockout Drops — the world's most effective specific for the treatment of insomnia. DOSE: One drop before bed-time, no more. Safe and reliable."
  
  In the small brown bottle are two knockout drops.
  
  The most potent of all soporifics; just one of these innocent looking pea-sized pills could knock out a horse. Poor old Hamcester must suffer terribly from insomnia.
  
  > check your inventory
  You have about your person a knockout drop, a false beard, a small brown bottle, inside which are two knockout drops, a priceless jewelled scarab (fake), an Amazonian blowpipe, two bananas, a book entitled Psychology To-day, a telegram and a gramophone
  record entitled La Gazza Ladra.
  
  Stashed safely in the secret pocket of your form-fitting tweed suit, are a Georgian ruby ring and a black and white feather.
  
  You are also wearing a ginger moustache, rendering you indistinguishable from Doctor Cornelius Drake, the noted alienist.
  
  > shoot amos with the pipe
  You are too far from Amos Bunyon to do anything but look.
  
  > go to the south
  (first opening the door to Lady Hamcester's bedroom)
  "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but that's the door to her Ladyship's bedroom." says the maid, "I'm sure that's not the room you was lookin' for, sir."
  
  "Is it really?" you say, raising an eyebrow to affect surprise. "How extraordinary! You're quite right, it's not the room I'm looking for at all. I don't suppose you know where it is, this room I'm looking for?"
  
  "It would help if I knew which room that was, sir," replies the maid.
  
  "Yes, I expect it would. Oh well, not to worry, I'm sure it will turn up eventually. These things normally do. Tootle pip!"
  
  How tiresome! At the rate she's going, the maid won't be finished polishing until the middle of next month. However, the notorious 'Magpie' is not going to be deterred by a mere chambermaid. Perhaps there is some other way into the Countess's boudoir?
  
  > Go south
  (first opening the mysterious door)
  (first unlocking the mysterious door)
  You lack a key that fits the mysterious door, and at any rate, it is painted shut. Perhaps there is another way into that particular room?
  
  > Go south
  The state dining room is a splendid rectangular room with flamboyantly decorated walls and ceilings; a little overdone, perhaps, but that's the Regency for you. The room is dominated by the vast, antique mahogany dining table and a set of matching chairs. The only other furniture of note is a small glass-fronted curio cabinet which stands between the two south-facing windows.
  
  North is the drawing room, and west the saloon.
  
  The butler, Hives, is busy laying the table for dinner.
  
  On the dining table are a red velvet tablecloth and an impressive array of silverware, glassware and crockery.
  
  Hives carefully places a fish fork on the table.
  
  > take the tablecloth
  The removal of a red velvet tablecloth from right under the nose of a head butler is no simple matter, but you think you have found the right approach.
  
  "I say, Hives, old man — have you ever seen the famous tablecloth trick?"
  
  "No, sir", says the butler warily, "but I am aware of the general principle."
  
  "You've never seen it? You don't know what you're missing. Allow me to demonstrate!"
  
  "I'd rather you didn't, sir," replies the butler, hurriedly interposing himself between you and the table. "I do have to lay the table for dinner."
  
  Hives carefully places a salad knife on the table.
  
  > pull pull
  In a distant part of the house, a bell rings.
  
  A short time later, Hives the butler shuffles into the room bearing a silver tray. He places it on the side-table and shuffles off from whence he came.
  
  > examine the tray
  A silver tray bearing the Hamcester coat of arms. Old, worn and not particularly valuable. On the tray are a soda syphon (full) and a decanter of whiskey.
  
  > Examine
  (The Drawing Room)
  The Drawing Room
  Once one of the finest rooms in the house, the drawing room is in a state of disarray. Elegant armchairs lie on their backs, priceless ornaments lie in fragments on the floor and the walls, lined with red Genoa velvet, are spattered with crumbs of Genoa cake.
  
  To the west lies the great hall. The dining room is to the south and the music room to the north. In the corner of the room hangs a tasselled bell pull.
  
  You can see a silver tray (on which are a soda syphon (full) and a decanter of whiskey) here.
  
  > pull pull
  In a distant part of the house, a bell rings, but no butler appears. Perhaps Hives is occupied with some duty or other elsewhere in the house.
  
  > take the tablecloth
  "Really, Hives, your lack of simple faith astounds me. Let me assure you I was tutored by the great Maskelyne himself. I shall remove the tablecloth with a single deft flick of the wrist, and return it to the table leaving not so much as a soup spoon askance. Stand aside!"
  
  Reluctantly the butler concedes. You take the edge of the tablecloth and give it a yank. Unfortunately the trick does not go off as planned. Plates and bowls zip hither and thither, dashing themselves to pieces on the walls and floor. Knives, forks and spoons describe graceful arcs through the air before impaling themselves in the soft furnishings.
  
  There is a cry from underneath the dining table. It is the Major, who, unbeknownst to all has been bivouacking there.
  
  "What's this? What's this? Camp under siege! Attacked by Zulus, begad!" Never one to run from a fight, the Major leaps onto the table and takes a swing at his perceived attacker with the candelabra, no doubt mistaking the butler for a Zulu chieftain. Perhaps used to the Major's splenetic outbursts, Hives dodges the blow, and losing his balance, the Major pitches head-first into the curio cabinet, demolishing it completely. Luckily he is wearing his pith helmet, but the porcelain rabbit in a red jacket, the pearlised cut-glass unicorn, the china shepherdess, the pair of white alabaster doves and the pottery figurine of a wretched-looking seal are not so fortunate.
  
  Taking advantage of the confusion, you bundle up the tablecloth and tuck it discretely behind your back...
  
  > Go west
  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.
  
  > Wave tablecloth
  You raise the tablecloth and give it a flick so that the colour catches the bull's eye. The animal's eyes widen, he lowers his head, rakes the ground a couple of times with his hoof and charges.
  
  You stand your ground, and at the last possible moment, step deftly aside, sweeping the tablecloth out of sight and allowing the creature to thunder past in a flurry of divots. Driven half by rage and half by inertia, the stricken beast leaps clean over the ha-ha like a champion show-jumper and tears across the lawn onto the terrace.
  
  Here the bull makes a belated attempt to arrest his progress but his hooves can find no purchase on the flagstones and instead he barrels sidelong through the French windows into the saloon. Borne on the fragrant summer breeze are the distant sounds of shouts and shattering porcelain.
  
  > go to the west
  This little orchard is home to Lord Hamcester's apple trees. The apples are not ripe yet, of course. To the east, through a gap in the fence, is the Park.
  
  Leaning against a small apple tree is a fruit-picking ladder.
  
  > take the ladder
  You hoist the ladder under your arm.
  
  > go to the east
  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.
  
  > go to the north
  "Afternoon, sir," says the under-gardener. casting a questioning eye over the ladder you're carrying.
  
  > Go 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.
  
  Lady Hamcester is standing to one side of the French windows, watching, in horrified fascination, the scene now unfolding in the saloon.
  
  From the direction of the saloon you hear the muffled protestations of Hives.
  
  "Poor Hives — I really must insist he gets a pay rise," says Lady Hamcester.
  
  > drop the ladder
  You lean the ladder up against the balcony.
  
  > Ascend
  You ascend the ladder and step onto the West Balcony.
  
  The balcony offers splendid views of the park and grounds. From here you can see into the kitchen garden, to the left of which is a wide expanse of lawn. French windows lead into the blue room. A ladder leans against the balustrade.
  
  A sturdy-looking cast iron drainpipe runs down the wall beside the balcony.
  
  > examine the drainpipe
  A cast iron drainpipe that runs down the wall from the eaves and crosses over to the east balcony. It looks as though it would hold your weight. The manufacturer's name is embossed upon the hopper head.
  
  > read the hopper head
  "Flann O'Kipper and Sons"
  
  > Go north
  This must unquestionably be the bedroom of Lady Hamcester. Tastefully decorated in peacock blue, the room comes complete with a sagging four-poster bed, French dressing-table, and peacock damask curtains. On the west wall is an elegant fireplace, the mantelpiece littered with various ornaments. To the south, French windows lead out onto the balcony, whilst to the north is the door to the west gallery. Another, smaller door beckons you eastward.
  
  Your eye is drawn to the French dressing-table. There, strewn carelessly across its lacquered surface, are the famous Jaroda
  Pearls, gleaming enticingly.
  
  A pomeranian dog, which might best be described as looking like the offspring of a rat and a feather duster, dozes fitfully on the coverlet of the four-poster.
  
  In spite of your extreme stealth, the dog seems to sense the presence of another body in the room. It immediately jumps down from the bed and begins yapping loudly.
  
  > shoot the dog with the blowpipe
  You raise the blowpipe to your lips and aim for the animal's mouth, which owing to its inability to keep quiet is fortunately wide open. One well-timed puff later and the pomeranian shuts up abruptly, its face a mask of surprise, before keeling over on the rug, a spent force.
  
  > look at the Pearls
  The seven-stranded Jaroda Pearl Necklace is one of the most extravagant pearl necklaces ever created. It seems a shame to swipe something of Lady Hamcester's — she's not a bad old stick, but the 'Magpie' would rather die than leave the premises without them. You can always pop them in the post once she's claimed the insurance money.
  
  > take Pearls
  You tip-toe around the sleeping pooch and snatch the necklace from the dressing table.
  
  You slip the famous Jaroda Pearls into your secret pocket, where none but the most astute detective would find them.