text: [Themes: Historical, second world war, mystery]
  
  > Look around
  This was the widest part of the hall, where it opened out to accommodate the flight of stairs that led up to the east. On the other side of the hall a dark panelled door stood open to the west, while the hall itself continued to both north and south.
  
  A body was lying at the foot of the stairs.
  
  Mr Graham, Hilda, Angela Croxley, and Mr Croxley were standing there.
  
  Obvious exits: North, South, West, Up
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  > No
  It would have seemed rather rude to walk away in the middle of a conversation.
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  It looked like he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
  
  > examine Angela
  She was undoubtedly a strikingly attractive young woman, what some might call an English rose. She was somewhere in her twenties, perhaps a few years older than I, and had a pleasant, open, round face framed by a generous bounty of wavy blonde hair. She was staring at me accusingly.
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  > look at the body
  Apart from the bullet wound in his chest, the dead man bore a remarkable resemblance to Hermann Goering.
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  > give the gun to Graham
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  Common courtesy demanded that me answer Mr Croxley before addressing Mr Graham.
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  > look at Croxley
  (Mr Croxley)
  He was probably about sixty, or maybe in his late fifties, with a rather suave air about him. He was standing by the body
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  > Shoot gun
  (with the revolver)
  I couldn't shoot the revolver with itself.
  
  "The gun, Mr Percy," Croxley reminded me, "Now, please."
  
  > give the gun to Croxley
  (Mr Croxley)
  "Thank you," he said as he took the gun off me. "Hm," he added as he examined it, "this looks like mine. Well, the telephone is still out of order so we can't call the police, so for now we're going to have to deal with this ourselves. Do you have anything to add to what you've already told us, Mr Percy?"
  
  (My immediate thoughts were to either mention the other staircase, or tell him about the radio.)
  
  > tell him about the radio
  "Did you know about the radio transmitter hidden in the attic?" I asked. Seeing his puzzled expression, I continued, "I thought not; so I'm not the only unexplained presence here."
  
  "I hardly see what a radio transmitter has to do with any of this," Croxley frowned. His scowl deepened, then he went on, "Anyway, it's nonsense. If there were a radio transmitter in the house I'm sure I'd know about it!"
  
  "It would do no harm to check, surely," Angela Croxley suggested. "If he's lying we may as well be certain he is."
  
  Her father's scowl deepened even further. After a brief pause he gave a curt nod and said, "Very well, if you must, go and check his story - let him show you this alleged radio. But just in case, you'd better take this." he added, handing her the revolver.
  
  "So, Mr Percy, will you show me this radio, please?" she requested.
  
  > No
  "No, I'm sure you can find it perfectly well for yourself, Miss Croxley," I replied. "It's just up in the attic. It seems I have unfinished business with your father here."
  
  "That can wait until we establish the truth about this alleged radio transmitter," he assured me.
  
  "That's settled then," she declares. "Lead on then, Mr Percy."
  
  > tell him about Angela
  "That's entirely beside the point right now, Mr Percy," Mr Croxley pointed out. "All I want to know is whether you have anything to add to your account."
  
  > tell him about the other staircase
  "Never mind that now," Mr Croxley interrupted impatiently. "All I'm interested in right now is whether you can add anything that might shed any further light on this."
  
  > mention the staircase
  "How do you know that I was the only person upstairs?" I asked. "This house has two staircases; that must offer all sorts of possibilities."
  
  "A little far-fetched, don't you think, Mr Percy?" he objected. "We know you were upstairs. Any one of us would have to have been both remarkably quick and remarkably stealthy to have arrived here with the rest of us without inviting suspicion, and without being seen by you."
  
  "Still, it could be possible," Hilda remarked. "Murderer could shoot victim, drop gun, and hurry down back staircase then come here through kitchen. In confusion no one notice, nicht wahr?"
  
  "Thank you for your very fair-minded suggestion, Hilda, but I still don't believe any of us did this. To my mind, that still leaves Mr Percy here as our chief suspect - unless he can come up with anything that changes my mind. Well, Mr Percy, have you anything to add?"
  
  > tell him about Goering Room
  Common courtesy demanded that me answer Angela Croxley before addressing her father.
  
  "This radio you said you saw - are you going to take me to see it?" Angela Croxley asked.
  
  > Yes
  "Yes, of course," I replied.
  
  "Good," she replied. "Lead on then, Mr Percy."
  
  > go to the radio
  Which radio do you mean, the wireless, or the radio?
  
  > go to the attic
  (going east)
  
  Angela followed me up the staircase.
  
  The main landing comprised the area at the top of the stairs leading down to the floor below. From there doors led off to east, west, north and northeast. The landing continued to the south past the banisters.
  
  Angela stopped beside me.
  
  Obvious exits: North, South, East, West, Northeast, Down
  
  (To continue on your way use the command CONTINUE or C).
  
  "I'm not impressed, Mr Percy," Angela remarked. "We offer you shelter from the storm, and you repay us by snooping all over our house."
  
  (My immediate thoughts were to either tell her about the noises, or apologize.)
  
  > tell her about the noises
  "I heard noises upstairs," I said. "Not just floorboards creaking, but footsteps, I was sure of it. I thought perhaps you were being burgled - and given that body downstairs..."
  
  "He's not a burglar," she interrupted me, clearly unimpressed.
  
  > turn on the torch
  I switched on the torch, and it emitted a reasonably bright beam of light.
  
  The attic had accumulated surprisingly little junk for a family home. Bare boards stretched out in every direction from the open hatch with little to clutter them. The beam of my torch picked out hardly anything apart from the odd packing crate and a plethora of cobwebs. There was also a large wooden box in the corner by the window.
  
  The loose floorboard was scarcely noticeable, being nearly flush with the floor.
  
  I saw an old blanket there. The large wooden box contained a radio.
  
  Angela was right beside me.
  
  Obvious exits: Down
  
  > ask Angela about footsteps
  "Until I see that radio transmitter I shan't believe a thing you tell me, Mr Percy," she answered. "Neither shall I be at all inclined to give anything away."
  
  > show the radio to Angela
  "There it is," I said.
  
  "Well - that certainly does look like a radio transmitter," she agreed, frowning with concern, "and it certainly shouldn't be here." She paused for a moment, her hand pushed deep up into her hair in a gesture of almost frantic thought. "I suppose there's no way you could have smuggled it up here," she continued, as much to herself as to me, "but that still doesn't explain how you found it." Letting her hand fall to her side she finally turned to me and asked, "Why, Mr Percy; why were you up here? Why were you searching our house so thoroughly that you managed to find a hidden radio the rest of us missed?"
  
  (I wondered whether to explain my suspicions, or counter-attack.)
  
  > Counter attack
  "Oh no," I said. "You're the one with the explaining to do, Miss Croxley, you're the one with a hidden radio transmitter in your house."
  
  She frowned in annoyance, "I swear I've never seen that radio before.
  I had no idea it was here. And I still want to know why you think you have the right to go snooping around our house."
  
  > ask her about Goering
  "Please don't try to change the subject, Mr Percy," she begged. "This is important - I need to know if I can trust you. So tell me, why were you making such a thorough search of our house?"
  
  > Suspicions
  "Too much round here seems far too fishy," I replied. "For one thing, it's obvious you've all been trying to conceal that Goering look-alike without anyone knowing about it. So, I thought - well, there is a war on, I do hold the King's commission, so I considered it my duty to try to find out more. For all I know you may all be a nest of German spies - and this radio rather confirms it, doesn't it?" Before she could answer, I continued, "But finding the radio - well, that was a spot of luck really. It was just the more I found, the more suspicious I became, so the harder I looked."
  
  She regarded me steadily for a moment, her lively blue eyes probing my face as if trying to read truth or falsehood there. "I see," she said finally. "I suppose that could be true, but not only does it leave this radio unexplained, it leaves a murder unexplained. So what do we do now?"
  
  (My immediate thoughts were to either ask her about her father, Mr Graham, Hilda, or the corpse, talk about the radio, suggest reporting to her father, or propose looking for more clues.)
  
  > ask her about the footsteps
  "It's more important to decide what we're going to do now," she replied. "So what do you suggest?"
  
  > ask her about corpse
  I could not kiss myself.
  
  "A penny for your thoughts, Mr Percy," Angela remarked. "What should we do now?"
  
  "What about that fellow downstairs - the one who was shot," I asked. "Could this be his radio?"
  
  "I suppose it could," she agreed, "but I don't see how he could have shot himself. I mean, people don't normally shoot themselves in the chest, do they? So what do you think we should do: search his room for further clues - or what?"
  
  > ask her about the Durbury
  "We can talk about that some other time," she insisted. "The immediate question is: what are we going to do now?"
  
  > ask her about Hilda
  "How much do you actually know about your housekeeper?" I asked. "I mean, she is German, and her room is closest to this attic; she'd have plenty of opportunity to sneak up here and use the radio when no one was looking!"
  
  "But Hilda's Jewish, she came here to get away from the Nazis, so why would she want to help them?" Angela protested. "Besides, I doubt she even knows how to handle a gun! No, I can't believe it's Hilda - not without a lot more evidence, anyway! So, what should we do next?"
  
  > talk about the radio
  "We're only assuming that this radio is being used to contact the enemy," I mused. "We don't know it for a fact."
  
  "True, but it seems a pretty safe assumption, doesn't it?" she replied. "I mean, if it was for some legitimate purpose, why would it be kept hidden up here in the attic where none of us knew about it? I don't think either of us could be accused of jumping to absurd conclusions if we assume the radio is linked with spying. So who's the spy and who's the killer, and how are they linked? What do you think we should do about it?"
  
  > find the coat
  (going down)
  
  It would have seemed rather rude to walk away in the middle of a conversation.
  
  I was unable to continue on my journey.
  
  > ask her about Mr Graham
  "What about your visitor, Mr Graham?" I enquired. "Do you know much about him?"
  
  "Not a lot," she admitted. "I suppose he could have shot T... that man downstairs. But I don't see how he could be responsible for the radio! So - what do you think we should do now?"
  
  > talk about the suitcase
  "I'd rather you didn't keep trying to change the subject, Mr Percy," she complained. "In case you've forgotten, there's just been a murder. So, what do we do now?"
  
  > Clues
  "I suppose the only thing we can do is hunt around for more clues," I proposed. "I mean, if someone in the house is sending messages to the enemy, they may have some notes of messages sent and received, or something else that gives them away."
  
  She frowned for a moment, then let out a deep sigh. "Yes, I suppose you're right," she agreed at last. "I just don't like the idea of poking around in other people's private possessions. It feels so - so unpleasant. But we don't have much choice now, do we?"
  
  > ask her about T
  "Changing the subject is just delaying the inevitable, isn't it?" she suggested. "You've only confirmed what I really knew all along we were going to have to do, so let's get it over with!"
  
  > ask her about Tony
  "What were your brothers like?" I asked.
  
  "Adam - well, we always thought he'd be a bit of a high-flyer, only we didn't realize he'd take it so literally," she replied, "or that he'd crash to earth quite so soon. Tony was always a one, quite a sportsman - he captained the first fifteen at school - and dead keen to do his bit for King and country when war broke out, but... I loved them both to bits, of course. I still can't believe they're gone."
  
  > check your inventory
  I was carrying a scrumpled fragment, a piece of paper, a receipt, a torch (providing light), a long wooden pole, a theatrical magazine, two keys (a dull grey key and a small brass key), a pair of headphones, a small tin box (which contained a pencil), a pamphlet, and a red book.
  I was wearing a beret and khaki battledress.
  
  "It seems I owe you an apology, Mr Percy," said Angela, lightly touching my arm. "I really did think you must be the killer, but that radio - well, it does change things. There's no way you could have put it there, which means - well, it seems you may have helped us catch a spy! And - well, you obviously know that we haven't been entirely honest with you, don't you?"
  
  > give you the the gun
  "Please, Jack, don't make this any harder for me by trying to avoid the question. You know I've been lying to you, don't you?" she insisted.
  
  > Yes
  "Well, yes, I suppose so," I admitted. "I mean it's pretty obvious that things here aren't what they're meant to seem."
  
  "Quite," she agreed, "For one thing, Colonel Croxley isn't my father, he's my C.O." She flashed a brief apologetic smile before continuing, "I shouldn't really be telling you anything of course, and I still can't tell you much, but, well, let's just say the colonel and I both work for the War Office, and the man who was shot was working with us. And - well - oh golly, I wish this wasn't all so complicated, but perhaps you could just call me Angela from now on." She handed me the revolver saying, "And perhaps you'd better take this. To be honest, I'm not entirely comfortable with it."
  
  > ask her about Jeremy
  "So, is Jeremy really your brother?" I asked.
  
  "That's right," she affirmed, "he's in the army too, and quite safe last time I heard, thank goodness!"
  
  > ask her about Graham
  "Who is Mr Graham exactly, and where does he fit into all this?" I asked.
  
  Angela let out a heavy sigh, "I'm beginning to wonder myself," she muttered. "I'm not meant to say anything, but right now I don't know which way to turn! He's Captain Graham, from the War Office. He came to warn us that our operation here had been compromised, and we were discussing what to do about it."
  
  (It occured to me to ask if she thought Graham shot the man.)
  
  > examine the gun
  I broke open the revolver and checked that it was loaded. Finding that it was, I closed it again.
  
  It was a Colt 45, probably a service pistol. There was a distinct smell of cordite from the barrel.
  
  It was a Colt 45, probably a service pistol. There was a distinct smell of cordite from the barrel.
  
  > show her slip of the paper
  "Could this be significant?" I asked, showing her the receipt. "I found it under some sheets in the airing cupboard."
  
  "That's certainly an odd place for it," she remarked, "but I'm not sure what it means. We all go into Amesbury from time to time, and any of us could have got a spare key cut, though it's a bit irregular - hm, I'm not sure what to think!"
  
  > ask Angela about the dunbury
  My remark proved to be the occasion for an animated discussion which lasted quite some time.
  
  > Inventory
  I was carrying a scrumpled fragment, a piece of paper, a receipt, a torch (providing light), a long wooden pole, a theatrical magazine, two keys (a dull grey key and a small brass key), a pair of headphones, a small tin box (which contained a pencil), a pamphlet, a red book, and a revolver. I was wearing a beret and khaki battledress.
  
  > Show scrumpled to Angela
  "What do you make of this?" I asked, "I found it in Colonel Croxley's bathroom."
  
  Angela took the fragment, read it, and turned very white.
  
  "Oh goodness!" she declared. "He couldn't have, could he?"
  
  She stared at the offending fragment a few moments more, then screwed it back up into a tight little ball. "Let's not jump to conclusions," she said, seemingly as much to herself as to me.
  
  > read it
  Only a few words were visible: "... plan now seems unworkable...
  ... may be advisable to terminate Durbury..."
  
  > ask Angela about the piece
  That was not something she seemed at all eager to discuss, so my conversational gambit fell horribly flat.
  
  "This looks like it could be some kind of code," I remarked, showing her the piece of paper covered with letters and numbers. "I found it in a German novel, in your room. Perhaps the numbers are references to the pages in the book?"
  
  "No," she replied firmly. For a moment she stared down at the piece of paper, clasping it in one hand, before finally releasing it to me with a heavy sigh. "At least, it's nothing to do with the German novel, that's just something I happen to be reading," she told me, "but it is a code of sorts. It's my attempt to do a bit of code-breaking. That's part of my job."
  
  > ask Angela about Goering Room
  "So why do you keep a room dedicated to Hermann Goering in this house?" I enquired.
  
  "You already know enough to realize that it must be part of our intelligence operation," she replied. "More than that I'm not at liberty to say."
  
  > ask her about the pamphlet
  I chattered away on the subject with her for several minutes.
  
  > Inventory
  I was carrying a piece of paper, a receipt, a torch (providing light), a long wooden pole, a theatrical magazine, two keys (a dull grey key and a small brass key), a pair of headphones, a small tin box (which contained a pencil), a pamphlet, a red book, and a revolver. I was wearing a beret and khaki battledress.
  
  Angela turned to me, laying a hand on my arm. "I'm getting to the point where I don't know which way to turn or who to trust," she confessed. "I'm not meant to say anything at all, but what can I do? Well, I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you don't know if I tell you that our visitor tonight wasn't a client! He's Captain Graham, from the War Office. He came to warn us that our operation here had been compromised, and we were discussing what to do about it. And then, well..."
  
  (It occured to me to ask if she thought Graham shot the man.)
  
  > ask her the shot
  "Are you saying you think Captain Graham might have shot that poor fellow?" I asked.
  
  "Yes - no - I don't know!" she ran her hand through her hair in a gesture of distracted distress. "We didn't know about the radio. At least I didn't. But Captain Graham said the Germans had got wind of - well, we were discussing how to tidy up the mess."
  
  "And shooting that man could have been part of 'tidying up'?" I suggested incredulously.
  
  "I don't know!" she snapped through gritted teeth. "It's driving me half crazy just thinking about it! It could have been Captain Graham - perhaps that's what he really left the study to do. It could even have been the colonel. I thought I knew him, and I didn't think he could - but it was his gun!"
  
  > ask her about Hilda
  "So, how do you find Hilda, Angela?" I asked.
  
  "We get on well enough," she told me. "She's certainly very efficient."