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 closed.
  
  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.
  
  > examine the clipping
  It seems to be from the St Bartholomew Advertiser, twenty-second of July last year.
  
  "Lord Hamcester Wins Again!" is the headline, and underneath are the words, "Earl wins annual cucumber competition for the sixth year running" and a photograph of the man himself receiving a trophy from the Mayor. In front of them is a gigantic cucumber on a trestle table, and behind them stands another man, stocky and well-built, wearing a cloth cap and an expression of contempt.
  
  "I think you will have better luck looking for the Major in the gardens, Doctor," says Hamcester sarcastically, "I'm fairly certain he isn't hiding in here."
  
  > ask him about Major
  "I imagine you would find it easier to locate the Major if you were to leave my study," says Lord Hamcester, pointedly. "The door is over there. Please close it on your way out."
  
  "I think you will have better luck looking for the Major in the gardens, Doctor," says Hamcester sarcastically, "I'm fairly certain he isn't hiding in here."
  
  > take the pamphlet
  Lord Hamcester very deliberately places his elbow on the pamphlet, preventing you from reading it.
  
  "Was there something else you needed, Doctor?" says Hamcester, "I really am quite busy."
  
  > examine the pamphlet
  Lord Hamcester very deliberately places his elbow on the pamphlet, preventing you from reading it.
  
  "I think you will have better luck looking for the Major in the gardens, Doctor," says Hamcester sarcastically, "I'm fairly certain he isn't hiding in here."
  
  > examine the photograph
  The photograph shows Lord Hamcester decked out as the Pirate King in a local production of the Pirates of Penzance. He's almost unrecognisable behind a bushy black beard.
  
  "If you'll excuse me, Doctor, I really must get on with writing my speech." says Hamcester.
  
  > examine the watercolor
  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.
  
  "If you'll excuse me, Doctor, I really must get on with writing my speech." says Hamcester.
  
  > Go south
  (first opening the study door)
  "Thank you, Doctor," says Hamcester, "you'll more than likely find the Major in the grounds on a day like this, decimating my hollyhocks with a machete. Let me know when you've got something to report." He closes the door behind you.
  
  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.
  
  > look at the bookcases
  A quick perusal of the bookcases reveals the usual stuff of a country house library. There are the interminable rows of leather-bound books on animal husbandry, an ancient set of Shakespeare's plays in pristine condition, peerages both Burke's and Debrett's, and biographies of the great, the good and the ugly. The lower shelves are enlivened by the rather more striking spines of innumerable mystery novels, adorned with lurid illustrations of skulls, daggers and bottles of poison.
  
  Ignoring the dusty leather-bound tomes, your eyes light upon a volume entitled Murder on the Razzle.
  
  > examine the razzle
  You pull the book from the shelf and peruse it. This one has a rather lurid picture on the cover of a champagne bottle, gushing with blood.
  
  But there is no time for reading, so you replace it on the shelf.
  
  > examine the armchair
  A Chesterfield back-buttoned wing chair upholstered in a quality chestnut brown leather, exquisitely soft.
  
  On the leather armchair is today's edition of the Times.
  
  > examine Times
  You are disappointed to see that your audacious and high-profile theft of Lady Ponsonby's diamond stomacher last week has taken second place in the headlines to the story of Bongo the gorilla's equally audacious escape from London Zoo. Apparently the beast was last observed heading up the Finchley Road in the back of a black cab. A fare's a fare, after all.
  
  > get Psychology
  You pull the book from the shelf and peruse it. Now this is interesting — the author is one Doctor Cornelius Drake! You flip through the pages randomly until you come upon a chapter that interests you:
  
  Chapter 5: The Psychology of the Obsessive Collector
  
  "The desire, and hence the innate propensity to collect, begins at birth. The infant first desires the emotional and physical comfort of the nourishing breast, then the familiar baby blanket the child clings to for comfort and security. Stuffed animals, favourite toys are taken to bed and provide the emotional security needed to fall asleep. A sense of ownership and control is facilitated through possession of these items for the vulnerable child. The loss of such a 'security blanket' at too early an age is a common feature in the development of the obsessive collector."
  
  You decide to hang on to this one, for now. One never knows when one will need to use a little psychology.
  
  > Go east
  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 a room to the east comes a blood-curdling scream, followed by the tinkle of breaking porcelain.
  
  > go to the east
  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.
  
  Standing in the midst of all this chaos is a stocky, red-faced man in the act of beating the stuffing out of a striped draught excluder with a poker.
  
  "Major Hilary Buff-Orpington, I presume!" you say, delighted by the spectacle.
  
  "Blighter must have crawled in under the door," says the Major, prodding the draught excluder with the poker to make quite sure it is dead. "tricky coves, boa constrictors."
  
  > examine the excluder
  A long, soft, fabric tube filled with sand and placed against the bottom of a door to keep out draughts. It does look a bit like a snake.
  
  "Can't abide snakes!" says the Major, slinging the stricken draught excluder over his shoulder. "This place is riddled with the blighters — but don't worry. If you see one, just refer it to me." He swings
  the
  poker through the air, demolishing a small vase. "Only language they understand!"
  
  He bounds out of the room with the energy of a small child and tears off across the great hall.
  
  > Go west
  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.
  
  > examine the escutcheon
  The charge consists of a boar rampant inside a wheel representing commerce or somesuch. Unfortunately the boar, rendered in stone by one of Addams' sloppy workmen, more closely resembles a rodent of the family Cricetinae than any sort of wild hog. You noted with
  some amusement during your research yesterday that even Burke's Peerage describes it as a 'hamster'.
  
  > examine the columns
  A colonnade carved of Staffordshire alabaster, handily keeping the ceiling where it belongs, at ceiling level.
  
  > Go south
  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.
  
  Striding across the room from the other direction is a woman who, with her long neck and dumpy undercarriage, resembles nothing so very much as a turkey which, instead of being stuffed with Paxo, has been stuffed into a fashionable dress. From her carriage and bearing you surmise that this can only be Lady Hamcester.
  
  "Aha," says she, "you must be Monsieur Perroquet! Welcome to Bunkham Hall. It's a great pleasure to finally meet you. I don't know if my husband has told you, but I'm a bit of a fan!"
  
  "Not at all, Madame," you say, doing your best to affect a Belgian accent, "as you say in your charming language, the pleasure, it is all mine." The Countess looks about her from side to side, and having established that the two of you are alone, she continues in a hushed tone.
  
  "The thing is," she whispers, "it's a bit of a stroke of luck that you're here. We have something of a mystery of our own here at Bunkham Hall. If you'll follow me." She motions in the direction of the doorway to the west.
  
  "Monsieur," says Lady Hamcester, motioning in the direction of the collection room, to the west.
  
  > go west
  You follow Lady Hamcester into the collection room.
  
  This small, oak-panelled room serves as sort of miniature museum for Lord Hamcester's collection of objets d'art, if one can use that term. Objets d'ordures might better describe the grotesque items residing on plinths around the perimeter of the collection room. Still, even the most inept collector occasionally gets lucky.
  
  The collection room is dominated by a glass display case in the centre. The items contained there are, presumably, the most valuable. The display case is currently closed, and locked.
  
  From here, the only exit leads east, into the saloon.
  
  "A few weeks ago my husband bought a jewelled scarab thingy at auction," says Lady Hamcester, indicating the glass display cabinet in front of you. "It was the pride of his collection. This morning I came in here and lo and behold, the bally thing's gone walkies. Fortunately, he's been holed up in his office all morning working on a speech, but if he finds out it's missing, he'll blow a fuse. He's bound to blame it on poor Hilary."
  
  "I see, Madame," you say, "You would like me to find zis, zis scarab then?"
  
  "I know it's a frightful liberty, since you're a guest here."
  
  "Not at all Madame! Not at all! The great Hermes Perroquet is always on duty!"
  
  "I say," says the Countess suddenly, grabbing your arm, "you don't think this could be the work of the notorious 'Magpie', do you?"
  
  "Hmm. Could be, Madame, could be. The 'Magpie' is a very cunning, and some say very charming and handsome fellow."
  
  "Very well then, I'll leave you to it. Keep me posted, and don't let on." The Countess winks and taps her nose, before stepping off in the direction of the terrace.
  
  Well, this complicates things somewhat. You turn up at a place to steal something, only to find that someone's beaten you to it. But you came here to pinch it, and pinch it you will! There's no sign of forced entry. Whoever stole that scarab opened the display case with a key. It has all the hallmarks of an inside job, and you'd bet your last penny that the scarab is still in the house somewhere. The question is, where?
  
  > look at the case
  (the glass display case)
  There are generally two types of collector; those who strew their objets d'art about the place willy-nilly, and the fastidious type who prefer their antiquities arranged according to category. Lord Hamcester is of the latter variety, but the meticulous mind is all too often lacking in artistic taste, and the best that can be said for most of these objets is that they're very neatly organised. The items on display include a black amber statuette and an Eighteenth Century cow creamer.
  
  The display case is currently locked. Lucky thing you have your set of lockpicks, cunningly concealed within the monogrammed cigar case in your secret pocket...
  
  Great Scott! It's gone! Your cigar case with the secret panel, in which you keep your five-piece set of lock picks, your three torsion wrenches and your diamond glass cutter; all the tools of your trade!
  
  Suddenly it dawns on you. That snot-nosed kid who walked right into you on the platform at Paddington — the perisher must have snaffled it! And to think that you apologised to him, patted his tousled locks, and waved as he ran off to join his parents in the queue for the Underground! Kids of today.
  
  Well, there's nothing else for it, old boy. The 'Magpie' never gives up. You'll just have to get by without it.
  
  > check your inventory
  and a telegram.
  
  Stashed safely in the secret pocket of your form-fitting tweed suit, is a black and white feather.
  
  You are also wearing a ginger moustache, rendering you indistinguishable from Doctor Cornelius Drake, the noted alienist.
  
  > examine the feather
  The distinctive feather of Pica pica, of the family
  Corvidae; the unmistakable calling card of the notorious
  'Magpie'. You like to leave them at the scene of the crime. It's pure vanity, of course, but you'd hate for someone else to take credit for your work.
  
  > examine the moustache
  A fabulously bushy fake ginger moustache, one of your extensive collection of disguises.
  
  > About yourself
  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 Doctor Cornelius Drake, the noted alienist.
  
  > examine the statuette
  A curious artefact that would appear to have been crafted by a skilled artisan whilst blindfolded, wearing boxing gloves and suffering from a severe toothache. Hideous.
  
  > look at the creamer
  A little silver cream jug shaped like a dairy cow, with a looped-over tail providing a handle and an open, lowing mouth serving as a spout. This one, however, is modern Dutch, something a cow creamer ought not to be. Worthless.
  
  > look at the plinths
  Various artefacts are displayed around the room on plinths. Amongst these are the Booby Prize and a bust of Julius Caesar.
  
  > look at Booby
  A truly hideous silver-plated cup; first prize in the St Bartholomew-on-the-Bog village fête cucumber growing competition.
  It's
  named the Booby Prize after one Gertrude Booby, who won the competition four years running in the 1870s. Lord Hamcester appears to have held the trophy for the last six years, before which it was in the possession of one Sir Humphrey Leghorn.
  
  > examine the bust
  There are various ways to tell whether a purported Roman artefact is real or fake. The quality, condition, colour and patination, for example, are all good indicators of age. We can also feel the texture of the surface, whether it is rough, smooth or polished. But the real give-away with this bust of Julius Caesar is its undeniable resemblance to Fritz Leiber (Sr.), the American actor who played him in the 1917 film 'Cleopatra'.
  
  > go east
  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 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.
  
  > examine the cabinet
  A late Victorian mahogany curio cabinet with beaded glass doors and a mirror back interior. Displayed inside are a porcelain rabbit in a red jacket, a pearlised cut-glass unicorn, a china shepherdess, a pair of white alabaster doves and a pottery figurine of a wretched-looking seal; in other words, a lot of worthless tat.
  
  > examine the rabbit
  It appears to be a collectible figurine of Barnabas Bunny, from the cautionary children's tale by Enid Potter. You seem to recall that he ended up in a pie at the end of the book, an indirect result of a partiality for tasting his own earwax. He's a cute enough fellow, and might fetch a couple of bob at auction, but scarcely the sort of thing to attract the attention of "The Magpie".
  
  > look at the unicorn
  One wonders where Lord Hamcester acquired this little trinket. Perhaps it was the runner-up prize at a coconut shy.
  
  > Examine shepherdess
  The china shepherdess looks somehow familiar; no doubt you've seen other examples.
  
  > examine doves
  A pair of doves, or love-birds, inexpensively made in white alabaster. There is damage to the wing of one and a chip in the beak of the other.
  
  > examine the seal
  The well-intentioned artisan responsible for this object probably intended it to resemble a seal, or perhaps some rare species of earless sausage dog. Whatever it was meant to be, it doesn't look much like one.