Percy Dale was six years old, the first time he dreamt about a giantess. Now the word giantess usually implies a woman of giant size in comparison to earthlings. In this case, what he dreamt of was being tiny sized, so small in fact that a woman would look like a giantess to him and have the proportionate strength advantage. He dreamt that his teacher Miss Newkin and he were alone at his school on a Saturday afternoon. She had somehow reduced him to tiny size. He didn’t remember how, and didn’t seem concerned. She was now chasing him around the school lawn, laughing mischievously… and Percy was enjoying the dream.

It had been pleasant getting to know her in real life. When he was six years old he had commenced second class with the new teacher Miss Newkin, who had moved into Sydney two years earlier. She had been born and educated in America. His previous two years of schooling at Killara had been less than exciting. The first class teacher Mrs Wheeton had been too strict and unpleasant in his opinion. On the last day of the year in first class, she had lined the class up at the end of the day and made all the children laugh, by giving each one a kiss. Percy had done his best to sneak to the end of the line and had finally refused to be kissed. However, she had jokingly made him comply, and the laughter from the others had reached its peak.

If only Miss Newkin would now find a reason to kiss him. In fact, if she wanted to chase him to kiss him, that would be nice, especially after he had been reduced. He imagined how close that would bring him to her sparkling red tongue. In April, he had to spend a week of school term in hospital to have a hernia operation. When the time came for the operation, a nurse had said, "Come up and have a cuddle", and lifted him in her arms. To his horror, the next thing he felt was a hypodermic needle being injected into the rear portion of his anatomy in order to send him off to sleep.

When he awoke later, he discovered that Miss Newkin had sent him a puzzle book to help pass the time. It was full of mathematics puzzles, some of which she had worked the class through on the blackboard. She had always applied her different American education to making school lessons so much more interesting and enjoyable. Each day she would read them a chapter of a children’s novel, which had started Percy on an addiction to the works of the English author who had written it. She later went on to read the class an American children's adventure novel in a similar series of daily instalments.

One day Miss Newkin had played the guitar and sang a song about the alphabet, using as many amusing words that commenced with the relevant letters of the alphabet in succession. Every ploy or gimick in her teaching approach made lessons entertaining and the work material easier to understand and remember. His work was the best that he had done in any year at school. Each day he looked forward to going to school, instead of dreading the boredom and confinement as he had often done in the previous two years.

On the last day of second term, by which time Percy was now seven years old, the entire school was given free time from the commencement of morning tea until the end of the day. Percy and his friends had taken to playing super heroes in the bush every lunchtime, imitating the heroes and villains on television cartoons, to chase and wrestle each other.

In anticipation of this last day, he actually brought a super hero costume to school and wore it down in the bush during free time.

By one o'clock the chasings had tired a lot of the children out. So they evolved the game into a hide and seek version of super heroes and villains. The heroes would have to find the villains. At one stage, Percy was still searching for villains, when he noticed that Miss Newkin was the teacher on duty deep down in the bush. She had gone to the furthest point where the school's territory ended and the general public's bushland began. There was no actual borderline or fence, but the school and any public bushwalkers never seemed to meet each other, because the public bush tracks were several metres further on from the border of the school's territory.

Percy saw Miss Newkin sit down and start eating her lunch. She had not seen him. He decided to see if he could sneak up and surprise her. He tucked his cape into the back of his trousers to prevent it from rustling or getting caught in the bushes, and began creeping through the bushland. When he was almost within four metres of her, he noticed that, as she finished the last bite of her sandwich and stood up, a man was walking towards her from behind, from the public bushland.

Percy watched in horror as he stole up behind her, put his hand over her mouth, stood to face her and then forced his lips over hers. She struggled to free herself, but could not resist his overpowering physique. He removed his lips and cupped her mouth with his hand again.

"Don't like that, eh darlin'? Well you've only seen the start of it. I've had my eye on you for a while now, and what I like, I take."

Percy wanted to help her, but what could he do? How could a small boy stand up to a muscular adult man?

He saw the man produce an unused handkerchief and gag her mouth tightly. Then he seized her wrist and forced her to walk through the bush with him, away from the school's land. Percy was very frightened of the man, and wanted to run back and tell the headmaster, but that would mean giving the man a chance to get away with Miss Newkin.

"I'll have to really be a super hero now," he thought, "This man is the villain, and I must rescue Miss Newkin."

He crept through the bush behind them for a long time. The man came to a path and followed it out of the bushland to the place where he had parked his car.

While still trailing the man from behind, Percy found a solid club of wood. He picked it up, feeling a brief surge of confidence in the weapon before his fear of the man returned. The car was parked with the left hand side facing the path. Percy remained in the bushes when he approached the end of the track, and saw the man open the passenger door and push Miss Newkin onto the passenger seat.

"Now stay put!" he said.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

Miss Newkin opened the door and tried to run, but he caught her and slapped her face.

"It's now or never," thought Percy as he saw them approach the car after her attempted escape.

"Try that again, and I'll do it a lot harder. Understand?" he said.

She nodded and soon got back into the car.

Percy quietly tiptoed out of the bushes and snuck up behind the man, as the man leaned down to push the passenger door shut. Percy swung the club at the back of the man's head as hard as he could, and saw the man stagger and fall across the bonnet of the car after taking no more than two steps. He opened the car door.

"Come on, Miss Newkin. You've got to escape."

"Oh Percy, I can hardly believe it!" she said.

She stepped out of the car, took Percy's hand and ran with him, back through the bush as soon as Percy had dropped the club.

By two o'clock they reached the school's bushland. Miss Newkin cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone and called out:

"All children go up to the playground! The bush will be out of bounds for the rest of the day! There is a dangerous man in the bush somewhere!"

It might well have frightened them, she thought, but this was better than having them remain in the bushes, if any of them chose disobedience for the sake of mischief. She could not have risked the man kidnapping any of them.
While other children set about starting games of handball and soccer in the playground, Miss Newkin and Percy went into their usual classroom and closed the door.

"Do you think that we should call the police about that wicked man?" he asked.

"Yes I will later," she said, and burst into tears, "Oh Percy, I was so frightened. How did you find me?"

Miss Newkin sat down on the carpeted floor beside him.

"I was playing super heroes, when I saw you sit down for lunch. I was going to sneak up on you and yell out 'surprise,' but when I got close, I saw that man get you."

"Why didn't you go back to the school to get help?" she asked, "That man might have caught you too and hurt you badly."
"He was scary, but school couldn't help you if he took you away and we didn't know where. I still had my costume on. So I thought I should really be a super hero and stop the man. So I followed you in the bushes. Then I found a club and saved it up and hit him."

"Percy, you really are a super hero and a very brave one. Still I hope you never take a risk like that again," she said. Then she actually took him in her arms and hugged him tightly, saying, "You saved me!"

Percy stretched a young hand up to wipe a tear from her cheek and spoke.

"You are safe now. That man is probably still fainted."

He knew that he liked Miss Newkin, but his young mind did not actually think of the words 'I love you, Miss Newkin.' Nor did he know how to bring up the subject of his impossible shrinking and chasing fantasy. So he said nothing and continued to enjoy the hug. In a few minutes she used the telephone at her desk to call the police, who soon rang back to say that they had caught the man.

"He was lying on the bonnet of the car you described, Miss," said the constable, "right out of it, with a nasty lump on the back of his head where your young student hit him. We told him you would testify, but he wanted to make a full confession as an attempt at contrition. I don't think it will keep him out of jail though. I will be needing you later for a full statement, but  I shan't need to trouble the boy."

"Yes. I'll be down early this evening then," said Miss Newkin, and soon hung up.

"Is he caught?" asked Percy.

"Yes. He was still unconscious. You really clubbed him hard. Wait until everyone else finds out what a hero you have been!"
"No!"

"What's the matter."

"Please don't tell anyone. I'm just glad that you're safe."

"But why?"
"My mother would never let me play in the bush again, if she found out. I don't want to tell anyone."

"Alright, I won't even tell the other teachers, or the headmaster, or anyone except the police. Still ,you will always be a hero to me for coming to rescue me today."

She knelt down and kissed his cheek.

For the rest of the year he enjoyed secret subtle hints of gratitude from her. At the end of the year she gave everyone in the class a small gift wrapped storybook. Inside the cover of his he also found a fifty dollar note and a message:

 

                        To Percy,

                                    a Super Hero's reward.

 

 

She had not written it in modified cursive writing, as it would be illegible to a second class child.

The following year he had a different teacher in third class, but he still tried to see Miss Newkin occasionally when she was on lunchtime playground duty. One day she gave him an envelope. He went away to read its contents:

 

                        Dear Percy,

                                    I started seeing a nice man in the Christmas holidays,

                        and I grew to like him. So we are now engaged to be

                        married.

                        I told him how you saved me from that criminal in the bush.

                        He was so grateful that he bought you this ticket to the new

                        super hero movie that's on at the cinemas. So you can go

                        and see it now. Thank you again,

                                                                                    Miss Newkin.

 

"Married?" he thought in horror, "Oh no."

He suppressed the temptation to cry, and took the ticket back and gave it to her.

"I don't really want to see the movie, but thank you."

"Why not? Percy, you've always liked super heroes. When you were in my class, and one of the boys brought costumed super hero dolls to school, you kept on asking him to let you play with them."
"Yes, but... it's hard to say what I mean," he said, and turned to walk away as the tears began to force their way out of his eyes. They were on a pathway between the end of the school's driveway and the second class room. Nobody else was in sight.

Miss Newkin stepped in front of him and put her hand on his head.

"Whatever is the matter? It seems a lot more serious than being about a movie that you don't like."

He could not look her in the eye.

He could not say anything.

"Percy, you saved me, remember, and I kept it a secret as you asked me to. Whatever's upsetting you, you can tell me, and I won't tell anyone. Maybe I can help."

His answer was almost a whisper.

"I wish I could marry you."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Miss Newkin," he choked.

"Sorry? Percy, falling in love with a teacher is nothing to be sorry about," she said, looking to see that they were still alone and kneeling down to hug him, "I think it's very sweet of you really. You won't understand all of this now, but one day you will be grown up and old enough to get married. By that time I'll be ... different. You might not love me anymore, and you'll probably love a girl your own age. I'm sure it will all work out for you in the end. Believe me, we would never have given you that movie ticket, if I had known how much this would have upset you. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'll always be fond of my young super hero friend, and one day you will have a lovely wife of your own."

 

Now he could never tell her about his shrinking fantasy.

 

Percy had enjoyed the first ten days of the May school holidays, but the best was indeed yet to come. He was now eight years old and in no hurry to become a nine year old. However, he was keen to enjoy the final event of his holidays: a two night visit to his grandmother's house at 66 Burnseid Street Wahroonga. This meant that he would be in the care of his grandparents for a few days.

He said goodbye to his mother at four o'clock on the Wednesday afternoon, and unpacked his bag in the bedroom just near the top of the eastern staircase. Opposite this small room was the spare bedroom which his grandmother used on the occasions that Percy would be staying the night, in order that the young boy would be only a room away from assistance in the event of his becoming ill, or developing any other need for help. From his suitcase he took clothing, comic books, a torch and a packet of playing cards.

His grandmother had already made his bed, and he could enjoy the holiday without any worries or concerns. Percy had always considered that two nights were necessary for him to really feel that he had stayed for a proper visit at the house. It did not matter, to the young Percy Dale, whether or not he arrived in the early stages of the first day. Neither was his departure time on the third day ever considered to be of paramount importance.  However, Percy enjoyed the chance to awaken after having slept for a whole night at the house, spend a whole day with his grandparents and then go to sleep in the same place as that in which he had awoken. For this reason, Percy always enjoyed the second day the most.

Having unpacked his belongings, Percy decided to see what would happen next on this the first day. He ambled down to the kitchen to see that his grandmother had employed the technique which instantly gained favour with the young boy. She had prepared a selection of chocolate biscuits and a large cupful of orange juice.

"Percy, you can eat up your biscuits and then have a look at your comic books while I get your dinner on."

"Where's Grandpa?" asked Percy, as he proceeded to deal with the chocolate biscuits.

"Down in the billiard room. He's looking at some of his travel films."

Percy decided that sitting in on a travel film would be of greater interest than remaining with his grandmother and making a nuisance of himself, when she was busy and preferred to be given the chance to prepare the dinner in peace and quiet. To the boy, it meant only that she obviously did not have the time to entertain him, which was perfectly understandable. The young Percy Dale soon found himself treated to a series of short home movies filmed in France (Paris, to be precise), London and New York. Some of them had been filmed while his grandfather had been on holidays.

Others were taken as part of a business trip which would allow for personal sightseeing. The Parisian scenes concentrated on the streets, cafes and the sides and rooves of the buildings, which differed vastly from those which Percy was used to seeing in Australia. In London, which was Percy's favourite of the three locations (according to what had been revealed to him on the screen in the billiard room), Percy's grandfather had concentrated on such landmarks as Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, the Thames River, Marble Arch, Hyde Park, Ten Downing Street and the Tower of London. The New York footage was composed mainly of examples of office buildings and nightclubs.

When the films had finished, Percy's grandfather went out into the dining room and sat on an armchair in the corner of the room reading a magazine. Percy decided to play one of his favourite tricks on his grandmother. He hid under the enormous dining room table and waited for his grandmother to call him for dinner.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Percy! Come down for your dinner!"

Percy decided to remain hidden.

"Percy, where are you?"

"Close enough," he thought to himself, enjoying his minor act of mischief.

"Where do you think he is? I'd better see if he's gotten lost in the garden," she said to his grandfather.

"No, he's alright, dear. Just bring out the dinner."

She brought the chicken into the dining room and began to serve it onto three plates, asking herself, "Now where could that boy be?"

Percy had never been sure exactly what it was that had prompted him to reveal himself. Perhaps it had been the thought of his grandmother searching the house in vain for him. Perhaps it had been the fact that the prank was beginning to lose its value. Perhaps it had been the smell of the chicken. Whatever it was, Percy crawled out and said, "Here I am."
"You sneaky boy," said his grandmother in jest, "Have you been playing Professor Sneaky Spies again?"

 

*          *          *          *

 

Dinner had commenced at six o'clock, and the sun had descended during Percy's viewing of the travel films. (On another occasion, Percy had seen a travel film of a place called Smiling Island, which would be of considerable value to his adult self in later years). Percy enjoyed the chicken and its companion dish: a dessert which included tinned peaches and white frothy gelato.

After they had enjoyed their dinner, Percy's grandmother put on an extra jumper and ensured that Percy wore an additional overcoat, as well as a soft warm beany, and the two of them partook of one of their favourite nocturnal rituals. They went across the two upstairs hallways and down the western staircase, turning right into the western downstairs hallway and making their way out to the door which led to the porch.

The porch ran around two sides of the western block of the house, and had a garden which followed it around. In the daytime, the garden itself could be explored as a whole miniature world of jungle adventure for a young boy. The porch had huge white pillars of stone rising around it to meet a wooden framework which ran above the porch. From the garden, several vines grew upwards, scaling the pillars to then continue growing across the framework so that the tunnel around the porch was in fact a combination of stone, wood and vine. The architect had added a fourth element to the structure: electricity. A series of electric lights were attached to the undersides of the wooden framework overhead. Each light had a pink cover around the globe, so that the light - when viewed by people on the porch - was in fact pink.

It was for this reason, that Percy and his grandmother referred to their 'first night' ritual as 'the rosy lights walk.' After walking around the porch, the two of them descended the wide stone steps to the garden, wandered along the driveway and out into the street. After they had passed four houses in the southern direction, they came to the intersection of Burnseid Street and Eastern Road. On the corner was a red wooden seat upon which they sat. Percy's grandmother always expected him to partake of a healthy night's sleep, so she had invented a reasonable and enjoyable process by which to limit the duration of their time on the seat. It was about eight o'clock at night, and they had enjoyed a long dinner and a reasonably long walk.

Considerable time had been spent on such things as locating Percy's hiding spot, which was eventually made possible by Percy's own emergence from under the dining room table; ensuring that Percy was adequately dressed in warm clothes, locating the correct switch for the rosy lights and enjoying the stroll around the porch. As a result, the two hours between six and eight o'clock had passed a comfortable pace. Percy's grandmother would encourage Percy to count cars while they sat on the seat, partly because she knew that Percy liked to do so, and partly because she had made a rule that they could stay on the seat until he had counted one hundred passing cars.

After that, the two evening pedestrians returned to 66 Burnseid Street and settled down in their separate rooms for a pair of visits to dreamland.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy had slept for several hours, but he was soon to awaken. It was around two o'clock on the Thursday morning. and Percy was having a nightmare:

 

            The house at 66 Burnseid Street was being used for evil purposes and a man was

            trying to save himself from the terrifying lady within. To the sleeping Percy, the

            man was something akin to one of the detectives  that Percy had seen on the

            picture covers of the many books lying around his grandmother's house. The lady

            was almost a witch in nature. The dream came to a climax when Young Percy

            found himself involved in the dream. He had discovered the presence of the two

            uninvited visitors to the house and had hidden himself at the end of

            the eastern upstairs hallway.

            His hiding spot was behind the door which separated the eastern and western

            upstairs hallways. The door was ajar and concealed his position. He was able to

            peek through the slit between the door's upper and lower hinges. He was

            terrified at what he saw. The man was running towards the doorway as he fled

            along the western upstairs hallway. In the distance, Percy could see the lady

            running up the western staircase with a huge emerald encrusted ring on her finger

            snarling, "I'm going to get him with this ring!"

            "Oh no!" thought Percy, "If she finds me she'll get me too, and that poor man!"

 

Percy awoke and was too frightened to go back to sleep. He stepped out of bed, walked out of his own room, into his grandmother's temporary bedroom and woke her, telling her that the dream had frightened him. He asked if he could sleep in her room where he knew that he would be safe.

"No. I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll say some prayers to God and He'll look after you when you go back to your bed.... Lord please help Percy get back to sleep, and take away all the bad dreams...."

Percy listened to it all pessimistically and returned to his room still frightened thinking, "Why couldn't she do something helpful?"
He finally dropped off to sleep, and had a dream:

 

            He and his grandmother went for a long walk on a sunny day and came across a     previously unexplored small village. They entered it at one end, the way a pedestrian   would enter a dead end street. The village was simply a short street with shops on            each side by it and a round semicircle of shops at the end, exactly like the positions of           the houses in a dead end street.

            The most significant shop in the dream's village was a small cake shop, wherein

            Percy and his grandmother - after befriending the small population of peaceful,

            relaxed and friendly villagers - selected some small cakes with pink icing, and then

            paid for them.

 

Percy awoke in the morning and still wondered about the prayers. In the end, he told his grandmother some pleasing news over breakfast:

"Nan those prayers really did work. God did take away the bad dreams. I dreamt that we went for a walk and came to a special village with a cake shop."

"Well there you are," she said, "That was nice, wasn't it?"

Percy was not sure about whether or not the pleasant dream had been a coincidence, but in later years, the adult Christian Percy Dale looked back on the event, convinced that it had been the earliest incident of God working in his life in response to a prayer.

Percy told his grandfather about the nightmare which had initiated the trouble, and his grandfather had reassured him, "Don't you worry. We'll take care of that witch lady if she

brings her ring back here."

The remainder of the holiday was without blemish. After breakfast, Percy amused himself until his grandmother was ready to go shopping.

"We won't walk down to the Turramurra shops in Eastern Road this time," she said, "Instead we'll go to the end of Burnseid Street and out to the East Wahroonga shops. They're closer and it'll be a different walk for a change."

 

They went to the shops and bought some groceries to last Percy the rest of his visit. Then they walked further into the eastern streets of Wahroonga, while Percy was recalling the dream he had enjoyed. The East Wahroonga shops made him think of the cake shop in the dream. They came to some Maltese gardens. Percy thought they were a type of garden that people could buy to go with their houses. He did not know of the existence of Malta and its people. A further trip around an additional block brought them to a quiet park with a few lemon trees and mandarin trees in it.

It was an exceptionally calm and sunny day. Percy felt no difficulty in suppressing his boyhood enthusiasm for physical activity as the two of them sat on a four person swing, with a footrest in the centre of it, and gently swung back and forth. They absorbed the view of the park, seated opposite each other on the swing.

When they arrived back at 66 Burnseid Street, the memory of the swing in the park was still in their minds. It gave his grandmother an idea of a way to occupy the young boy while she prepared his lunch. She led him down to the large tree on the grass beyond the loop at the inner end of the driveway. At the top of the tree, the branches curled out and downwards in order to act as a semi-solid wall around the area surrounding the foot of the tree. Two feet up from the base of the tree, two branches grew horizontally out of the tree almost side by side.

"Percy," said his grandmother, helping him onto one of the branches, "You can have a swing on these tree horses while I make lunch."

From that day onwards, that part of the garden was referred to simply as "the tree horses."

After a relaxing session on the tree horses, Percy decided to climb the tree. He managed to reach the fourth branch up from the tree horse branches, and found that he could climb no further because he was not tall enough to reach the next branch. He made his way down to the tree horses and saw his grandmother waiting with a tray at the bottom.

"Would you like to have your ham salad and biscuits on the tree horse?" she asked him, "and then we can go back up to the dining room for some cake afterwards."

By the time all of this had been taken care of, Percy's grandmother had grown weary of the day's activities and needed to have an afternoon snooze. Percy filled in the time watching television, until his grandfather came home and started to play billiards in the room at the end of the western downstairs hallway, which was also the room with the screen for viewing the travel films.

"Why are you hitting the balls into the holes?" asked Percy, who wanted to see all of his favourite colours on the table, "You can pack them up later."

"That's the idea of the game," said his grandfather, "I'll sink the pink next."

"But there isn't a pink one. There's only blue, black, orange, yellow, brown, green, white and some red ones."

"The orange one's called the pink," said Percy's grandfather, which prompted Percy to reconsider everything that his infants schoolteachers had taught him about the colour wheel.

"Oh, not quite," said his grandfather, when he failed to get the pink billiard ball to fall into the pocket.

Percy felt sympathy for his grandfather. He was too young to be allowed to touch the long sticks with the blue points, but he wanted to help his grandfather to battle these objectionable, round, coloured balls.

After a brief search under the billiard table, he found an empty cardboard tube which had once been the packaging container for a sixty watt light globe. Percy picked it up and said, "This is my gun."

He waited until the next time his grandfather met with failure on the billiard table.

"That one's being naughty," said Percy, in reference to the brown ball, "I'll shoot it to teach it to go in next time."

His grandfather appeared to be encouraged by this particular manifestation of the sports world's concept of a team effort, and continued to sink the billiard balls, pausing occasionally to allow Percy a chance to administer his own unique brand of justice to any billiard balls whose paths of motion appeared to oppose his goals of sinking them.

This occupied the two of them until dinner time, after which Percy and his grandmother went to the living room to play cards.

"Can we go for another rosy lights walk?" he asked.

"No. You had better stay inside tonight. You don't want to have any more nasty dreams, do you?"

They enjoyed several rounds of snap, during which Percy's snapping techniques increased in velocity and intensity.

"Good grief Percy! The way you're snapping them up, it's more like a karate chop than a game of cards!" laughed his grandmother.

Percy responded by bursting out laughing. Then they calmed down and enjoyed a quiet game of whist, and Percy occasionally stared around at the objects in the room, the protective closed curtain by the window next to the front door, the grand piano, the mantelpiece, the opening to the western downstairs hallway and the staircase, the doorway to the downstairs bathroom, the couch, the doorway to the telephone room, the doorway to the dining room, and the special cabinet, one part of which opened up to reveal a mirror-walled drinks cabinet room, and another part which acted as a glass windowed display case for several small china jungle animals, of which Percy's favourites were the pink elephants.

Eventually it was time for bed, and the exhausted young boy planned to exhaust himself still further before morning. He went to one of the three upstairs bathrooms to have a quick bath before bed, and enjoyed watching the warm water flow out of the red fish's mouth which was in fact the tap built into the bath itself. Percy enjoyed the atmosphere of his grandparents' bathrooms, because they all had colourful bathtubs and small red and yellow and green square floor tiles each about two inches wide.

When he got to his bed, Percy pretended to fall asleep, and then stole downstairs fully dressed, with a torch in his hand, and crept out into the garden and made his way to the streets. He walked to Wahroonga Station in search of an adventure which would surpass any of the holiday's activities so far experienced.

As he was reaching the far end of the footpath which ran alongside Wahroonga Park, he heard a series of voices coming from within the park. He slipped his torch into his pocket and crept into the bushes, getting down on all fours, thinking "Down, down, down, into a bush."

When he reached the other side of the bush, he looked into the park to see about thirty people, mostly adults sitting, talking, some of them humming pleasant tunes on the grass and on the park seats and tables. The girls and ladies wore light pink and white coloured dresses, and some of them had red and pink coloured stones in their hair. The boys and men wore either dinner suits or top hats and tails.

"Hey! A spy!" called one of the men, who had seen Percy.

A lady accompanied the man who had noticed him.

"Down, down, down, into a bush!" thought Percy, again diving into the thick bush at the edge of the park, surrounding himself with leaves and flowers. Had it been spring instead of the beginning of winter, he could have surrounded himself with many more flowers. He saw the lady and the man approaching his bush. The lady looked friendly, and Percy decided that, although he was a little frightened of the bellowing man, he was intrigued, and wanted to meet these unusual people who sat in a park with food and lanterns and drinks in the early hours of the morning. Percy crawled out and revealed himself.

"He spies on us!" bellowed the man.

"Oh Aygin, be civil. He's only a harmless boy," said the lady.

The man eventually took off his top hat, bowed and shook Percy's hand. The girls and boys showed Percy a book explaining some of their customs and habits. After a couple of hours of eating, drinking, singing and talking with these people, Percy was confronted with a farewell speech from the lady who had located his bush:
"We come from far far away, and your people would find us unusual, but thank you for being our friend, young boy. Now you must go home to bed before your grandparents awaken and become concerned about your disappearance."

Percy somehow knew that he had to obey them.

 

*          *          *          *

 

He went to sleep, and dreamt of the beautiful lady who had come to his rescue. In the dream, she lived alone in a house a few blocks from his Grandmother’s place, and was having an evening party out in her back garden for her female friends. He had somehow snuck into her garden at night at tiny size and discovered the party from the edge of the garden. She had seen him, and come striding towards him, laughing, and reached for him. It had been even more enjoyable than his memories of the actual encounter, if it had been an encounter.

The next morning, Friday he woke up, having had only two hours of sleep from four until six. He wondered whether or not it had been a dream.

No.

It had all happened.

It was true.

He knew it.

His grandmother agreed to an unexplained request to walk to Wahroonga Park; and did not notice the way he stared around the park, even into garbage bins, to find no evidence of their having been there, but they had.

They had all been there. He has not seen them again, to this day, but he always remembered the night when he had set out on an adventure and uttered his safety phrase, "Down, down, down, into a bush," and enjoyed an unusual but brief friendship with the Wanderers of Wahroonga. He remembered the beautiful lady and wished he could have been shrunken for her.

 

After some more time had passed, Percy finished fifth class and came to his Percy's eleventh December. He was 10 ½ years old.

 

Percy had broken up from school, and his parents were on holiday overseas, which was to last the entire duration of the Christmas holidays, which came to two months. Percy felt like a man who had found a ten million dollar lottery ticket in the street. He was going to spend the entire two months staying at his grandparents' house in 66 Burnseid Street Wahroonga.

On the Monday morning of his first week at Burnseid Street, Percy opted to go shopping with his grandmother. As usual, they went down into the cellar and collected the old soft drink bottles, to take to the Turramurra milk bar for a deposit. They found six bottles, which would provide enough money for Percy to buy a comic book. They walked down Burnseid Street, turned right and followed Eastern Road as far as the North Turramurra shopping centre. There Percy effectively traded a set of six empty bottles for a Superman comic book, which was not much to carry. So Percy carried half of the shopping purchases for his grandmother, and they went back to the old house. Percy read the comic, and then wandered out into the garden to amuse himself.

At the northern end of the old property there was a large lawn, with a small reserve of trees and bushes at the end of it, bordering with the side fence of the next door neighbours' tennis court. The bushy area was large enough to hide in and small enough not to get lost in. Percy found a small tree in the bush, and began to climb to the top.

The author of this piece has read, heard and seen various stories, wherein a character climbs to the top of something, and finds a fantastic scene at the top. It could be a giant, a secret hideout, a castle, or various other interesting items to catch the attention of the keen climber. However, with no intent to disappoint his readers, the author wishes to assert that Percy had climbed a tall tree only to see a certain scene which would require any fascinated climber to climb back down to the bottom of the tree.

From the branches of the tree, Percy saw a girl walking onto a tennis court with a large dolls house in her hand, held by a handle which protruded from its roof. Percy had not been to Burnseid Street since the August school holidays, and there had been no children living next door then. The girl put the dolls house down on the surface of the hard court, and stared into the bushes of 66 Burnseid Street, but not in the direction of Percy Dale. Her house was addressed in Burns Road, parallel to Burnseid Street. Burnseid Street was between Burns Road and Braeside Street, and had been given a composite name of the two in the 1890s, when the large acreages had been divided, in order to make an extra road through Wahroonga and build more houses on the land.

The girl was definitely a lot taller than Percy, although she did not look more than a few years older. She stared into the bushes, probably trying to see the old house, and then sat down, removed a latch; and then the dolls house opened out for the girl to use as a toy for the morning.

Percy climbed silently down from the tree, and walked through the bush to the fence. The girl was too absorbed in her dolls house to notice him. Percy looked at her blond hair and a pair of green eyes that had so far failed to detect the presence of the boy.

"Hello. I'm Percy."

With a four inch brunette in her hand, the girl looked up at Percy, and smiled.

"My name is Jenny. Do you want to come over here, Percy?"

"Yes please. The quickest way is to climb over the tennis court fence. Will your mother mind?"

(In the future, a door would be built into the fence, by the time Percy inherited the house as an adult).

"She won't see you. The house is too far back and around the garden from the tennis court."

Percy had never liked large crowds of people. At school he had always preferred to have one best friend with whom he spent most of his time. For the past year, he had been a close friend of a ten year old lad called James Hamilton. James had more knowledge of electronics than any first year university science student and had taught most of his rare skills to Percy. Percy and James had involved themselves in numerous exploits, which were excellent preparation for his Sneaky Spy activity. The only major troubles that the two had encountered were at school, where their juvenile fellow students often made them the victims of insults, bullying, and other inexcusable behaviour.

 

Percy had once had a dream:

 

            James Hamilton and himself were catching a bus home from school (which was      curious, because in real life, James was driven home by his mother and never caught         the bus with Percy). In the course of this alternate reality (provided by the activity of       Percy's subconscious mind, at the time when his body was acquiring its usual rest and relaxation), James opened his schoolbag, and took out a small robot, and sat it on the         seat of the bus between Percy and himself. James had given the robot a certain name   which was coincidentally interesting. Percy had three years earlier (in real life)             watched a television advertisement for a special green brand of Scandinavian soap.

 

            James had chosen this name - but not from the advertisement, in this dream - for the          robot, and they sat in the bus discussing their plans to use the robot, to protect them      from the lads who constantly harassed and bullied them at school. Then the scene (of        the dream) shifted to the school sportsground, a few days later. There was a large      crowd of people present, not all of them from the school, and James was about to             demonstrate the robot's capabilities to a captive audience. Percy could only look on,      frustrated, as James proceeded to show off his invention to everyone. It was supposed        to be their own private little solution to their problems, and now it had been used for

            other purposes, and a famous James Hamilton did not seem to know Percy anymore.

 

Percy had then awoken, frustrated because the dream had not concluded with a happy ending. He had never told the events of the dream to James or anybody else; and on the last day of school, James' mother had announced to Percy that James was to leave the school, and go to another one, at the end of that year. Percy was devastated. They could still see each other on weekends, but now Percy would have to face a school of sadistic students and callous teachers alone, a school that had driven his best friend out. Consequently, Percy had made up his mind to derive as much enjoyment as possible from the Christmas vacation at 66 Burnseid Street.

The only thing that he missed was being able to see James. His grandmother had managed all of her life without a driver's license, and his grandfather no longer held his. This meant that Percy could not go to visit James until the end of the holidays, when his parents returned from overseas.

So Percy welcomed the chance to meet a new friend next door. 66 Burnseid Street had a long driveway, with neighbouring properties on each side of it. The enormous block of land at the end of the driveway, with neighbouring properties around it. Percy felt enclosed and comfortable, and safe.

68 Burnseid Street was owned by the Stammers family, which consisted of mother (retired) and eighteen-year-old son, who had an extremely aggressive dog locked up on his premises.

64 Burnseid Street and most of the other surrounding houses were owned by elderly couples, and there was little view of any of them beyond the bushes and high fences on Percy's grandparents' boarders anyway.

All of that considered, it was rather pleasant to meet Jenny Winters. She was not a boy, but Percy was soon to learn that this would not be a problem. In an all-boys school, Percy had grown up to believe that girls were a species remotely akin to boys, except for the fact that they were given to sitting together at the back of school buses and giggling for no apparent reason.

Percy loved to giggle, but he enjoyed being let in on the reason for doing so. Percy saw ladies as "big, old girls, grown up, the ones that look pretty on television," and he could not begin to comprehend, or even be aware of the transition process that altered giggly girls into "pretty ladies on television screens."

"It would be nice to sit and giggle with Jenny occasionally," thought Percy, as he reached the top of the fence.

"You're good at climbing," said Jenny, "So am I, but my mother doesn't think I should go climbing. She says it is dangerous."

Percy jumped the remaining two metres to the tennis court, and waited for the effect of doing so to leave his feet.

"My grandmother's house has got lots of trees. If you can sneak out at night, we can do all the climbing you like."

"Easy. I'm the only one with a room downstairs, and I always leave a window open in summer, because it's so hot. But how will we get to your grandmother's house?"

"By climbing over the tennis court fence. That is my grandmother's house," said Percy pointing, "I'm living here for the holidays. Do you want to sneak out tonight?"

"I cannot tonight. I'll be staying tonight and tomorrow night at my cousin's house, but we can do it on Wednesday night. My cousin's coming to stay with us for two nights then. Can she sneak out with us too?"

"She sure can. When are you leaving?"

"After lunch, which isn't for a while. Would you like to play with my dolls?"

Percy had never played with dolls before. He had once had some teddy bears, and enjoyed playing with figurines of television cartoon characters. However, he saw no reason why he should not start playing with dolls now.

"Alright."

Percy wanted to secure the arrangements for wednesday night first, and then enjoy the fun.

"How about if I meet you and your cousin at this fence at one o'clock on Wednesday night, which is really Thursday morning?"

"We'll come then. Her name is Laura, and these are my friends Sally, Mary and Anna."

Jenny pointed to her dolls.

It was more than a change from his miserable life at school.

It was real fun.

Jenny wasn't like the boys, and Percy did not think that she was like the other girls either. During the next two hours, Sally's hair was combed, Anna went to sleep in the middle of the day, Mary tried on five new dresses, and then they all got together to have lunch, after

which - with a little less than an hour remaining, before Jenny had to go inside for lunch - Percy thought of an idea.

"Do you think that they would like to climb up that giant tree in my place just there?" he asked.

"Anna and Mary would, but Sally says she wants to stay here and keep me company. You go back over, and they can climb through the fence."

Percy was soon waiting to receive Anna and Mary, after which Jenny watched in admiration, as Percy helped the tiny pair to a branch where they could sit without falling off.

"They're having fun, Jenny."

"No they're not. Mary says you were too rough when she was climbing up."

"Well I tried to be ."
"You didn't try hard enough. They want to come back. Hurry up and help them back through the fence."

Percy did so.

He wondered whether he had upset Jenny, and whether it would cause her to change her mind about their midnight rendezvous.

For some reason this seemed to matter in a way that it had never mattered before.

"Sorry about that," he said, as Jenny reclaimed her dolls. She saw him try not to blink his eyes, and smiled.

"I was only teasing you. I still like you, and so do the friends."

"Oh...I just don't like teasing...unless I know it's only teasing. I thought you really didn't like me anymore."

"Then I shall never tease you again...Are you going to come back over now?"

"There's not much time left. I might as well see what Nan wants to have for lunch."

"But I want to make up for teasing you."

"Oh."
He climbed the tennis court fence again, and came down beside her. His head only reached her neck. He had no idea what she was going to do, because he did not know how girls made up for teasing people.

Percy was a boy who did not tease people, but the ones who did had never made up for it, and Percy was looking forward to whatever she was going to do.

Until she kissed his cheek.

For a split second it felt wonderful, and then he looked around, to see if there was anybody in sight.

"Don't you like that?"

"Yes I like it. It's just ... embarrassing, but you can do it again at night, if you would like to, not Wednesday night, but some night when it's just you and me."

"Alright, well I won't be embarrassing anymore. How old are you?"

"I'm ten."
"I'm twelve, and I like you," said Jenny.

This was why it had mattered so much not to have upset her when they had been playing with the dolls.

"I'm ten, and I like you too."

"Jenneeeey! Lunchtime!"
"Oh, that was Mother. I have to go. I'll see you here at one o'clock on Thursday morning. Here, take Sally to keep you company. Bye, Percy."

"Bye, Jenny."

He watched her close the dolls house, and carry it out of sight.

He'd never had a kiss from a nice young girl before. Percy merely thought of kissing as an embarrassing, nauseating procedure, which was always to be performed at the commencement and conclusion of visits to ageing relatives. This time it had been "to make up for teasing," and it was special, and pleasant, and fun.

As Percy found ways of amusing himself, in order to fill in the next two days, he found himself with new priorities on his mind. James Hamilton had paled into insignificance, and there was another notable change.

Percy's parents had given his grandmother enough money for her to supply Percy with his pocket money every Monday for the rest of the holidays. In addition to this, he would be given any money that the soft drink bottles would provide, and the occasional extras. For the first time, the idea of going up to the shops to buy a comic book was not of primary importance. Wednesday would be the seventh of December, and Percy wanted to buy something for Jenny in time for Christmas. He did not think about moving back home and going back to school, or if he did, he thought of those things as being items of unpleasantness on the other side of a high wall. Each week of the holidays was a certain distance away from that wall. He did not know how he would cope with that, when the weeks ran out and he had to climb the wall and face the items of unpleasantness on the other side. He would simply think to himself each Monday, "Well, I've still got ... weeks of holidays to go."

Percy had always seen the summer holidays as being segmented into Before Christmas and After Christmas. Now it was different. Christmas was just a date in the middle of a lot of fun that he would have with Jenny.

On Wednesday night, Percy said goodnight to his grandparents and went up to his bedroom. Percy's bedroom was at the end of the eastern upstairs hallway.

He set his alarm clock for a quarter to one, and put it on the end of the bed beside his pillow. That way he could stop its ringing before it woke up his grandparents. He climbed into bed, still wearing his clothes, and slept ... for a few hours. He dreamt that Jenny had reduced his size and was putting him gently into her dolls house. He enjoyed this too, which made his real life feelings for Jenny even more significant. 

 

He crept out of bed, and stole out into the hall, listened for a moment to see if he'd awoken his grandparents, and then took his torch out from under the bed. He did not want to carry it around while they chased each other - and besides it would not be fair - but he did want to find his way silently down the stairs, out of the house, and into the bushes without disturbing anyone.

Then he was faced with a dilemma. The eastern staircase was wooden, with no carpeting, and would certainly creak, but the western one was at the end of the western hallway. There was little doubt about it. He would have to walk silently down both hallways, and go down the carpeted stairs of the western staircase.

He would then be able to choose from a number of doorways, and open any one door silently. The only one that made a significant noise was the front door. However, that would not be his choice. He went out the door to the porch. As usual, his grandmother had left the red lights on, but this did not matter. If anything, it would provide them with enough light with which to chase each other.

When he arrived at the tennis court fence, he could not see anybody on the tennis court.

Had Jenny forgotten him?

Had she been caught and sent back to bed?

Had Laura persuaded her not to do it after all?

Then Percy heard a soft giggle from high up in the tree behind him.

He looked up into the moonlit tree. They were both there. They had already climbed over the fence to Percy's side.

"We're not teasing you. Laura just thought that it would be nice to surprise you from up here."

"Yes, it was clever. You had better come down quietly now. Don't snap any branches."

Laura's brown hair was a suitable complement to her brown eyes.  

He led them out to the lawn, and explained that it would be best to restrict the game of chasings to the lawn, which followed the house around half of its perimeter.

Climbing trees and using paths while under the pressure of being chased would certainly initiate a whole series of unwarranted noises. So they played chasings for the best part of an hour and then decided to slow it down to hide and seek.

"Alright then," said Percy, "The rules can be simple. One person hides. The other two go to look for them, and the first person to find the hidden person can be the next one to have a turn at hiding."

"No," said Laura, "Why can't the person who finds them last be the one who has to hide?"
"Because hiding's the best bit, and I'll try harder to find somebody, if it means I can hide next."

"Okay," said Laura, "You can hide first."

"I will, and we'll change the boundaries. You can go anywhere outside the house - if you're quiet - but not in it. You can climb trees, but don't climb up the house, and you can also go as many as five houses down the road to the North, and as far as Eastern Road in the other direction. Close your eyes and count to sixty. Then start looking. If I'm not hiding, then it will be a longer counting time for me, because I know the place better than you two. Okay, start."

 

Percy ran across the lawn and played his usual gambit for the game of hide and seek. Percy loved to double back in time to position himself where he could see the seekers open their eyes and start to look. Then he would move around and follow their attempts to find him, until he made a fatal slip at the crucial moment and gave himself away, or they happened to turn around and look in the place where he was, so that he could not remain behind them.

This was why he never preferred to play a method of hide and seek wherein the hidden person must simply find a place and stay there.

Percy ran right around the house, and then crept along the narrow strip of grass on the driveway side of the hedge, and peered around the corner at the end. The girls were still out on the large lawn with their eyes closed. Then they started walking. So their eyes were open.

However, they did not both go in the direction in which Percy had run.

Laura did, but Jenny walked towards the hedge. Percy ran along the strip of grass, around the corner, and stood up straight against the third hedge, and hoped that Jenny would pass by him without noticing.

"Oh they split up!" he thought to himself.

Jenny walked into view, turned her head and spotted him.

They played another round, during which Jenny hid in the oak tree, and it was Laura who found her. She knew her cousin well, and had guessed that Jenny would make use of her height to climb a tree. So Jenny and Percy waited at the bottom of the oak tree, counted their time and stared out at the large lawn.

"Percy, can I kiss you again now?"

"What about Laura?"

"She's off hiding."

"But we're the ones who cannot see where she is. What if she's hiding somewhere close watching us?"

"Alright. Let's go and find her. I'll kiss you another night."

"How old is Laura anyway?"

"Eleven. Let's split up. We'll find her faster that way, like we found you before."

Jenny went the same way as she had gone earlier, and Percy followed the lawn around the house again.

"Nobody's hidden out in the street yet," thought Jenny, and wandered quietly down the drive. 

She stepped out into Burnseid Street, and decided to wander up past the five houses allowed, looking in bushes and up into trees. But she heard Laura's voice.

"Jenny, down here where the drain runs under the driveway. It's quite dry. You won't get dirty, and you can squeeze in too. It will be funny with Percy looking for both of us. You'll have the chance to play one round of the game the way you first suggested after all. Percy won't mind. He's a nice boy."

Percy searched in most of the obvious hiding places. He did not bother looking into places that a stranger would not consider using in the dark; and he came to the conclusion that Laura must have hidden out in the street. So he wandered out into the street himself, searched in every possible place within the boundaries, and then sat down on the front wall of 66 Burnseid Street, to think.

Then he saw Jenny's head peeking out of the drain, and he suddenly felt a special sensation in his mind. He had never seen such a sweet face before, and he guessed what had happened, and out they came.

"Oh Jenny, that looks so ... sweet. You can kiss me now if you want to. Make it the other cheek this time."

"But aren't you embarrassed? We decided to give ourselves up. It got uncomfortable in there."

"Yes of course I'm still embarrassed, but I cannot wait any longer."

So she kissed Percy for the second time.

"Can we do lots of climbing tomorrow morning at one o'clock?"

"I think so Jenny. We shall climb as many trees as we can, and probably do nothing else."

"We'll have to sleep in this morning," said Laura looking at her watch, "It's after three o'clock now."

 

When the specified Monday came along, Percy met Jenny at the tennis court as usual, and informed her of a small unplanned delay in the proceedings.

"Nan and Grandpa are running a little bit late. So we will have to wait for a while."

"Mother does not mind me coming around, but I have to go over the low fence just past the tennis court."

"Well I'll have to go through the bamboo on our side, so that I can show you how to get out into our garden."

Soon they were both walking towards the house, and Percy's grandparents were gone. He led Jenny across the courtyard and into the house, and they walked up the large western staircase. Jenny expressed her surprise upon finding another staircase at the eastern end of the house.

"I love it up here. Nan usually asks me up once or twice in the holidays, and it is great to have a happy couple of days here before I go back to school again - which I hate - but this time I can stay for two months. I don't know how  I shall cope afterwards, but let's not worry about that now."

He led her into his bedroom, and showed her some of the things that he had brought from home with which to amuse himself. There were his comic books, his models, and his box of disguises and costumes. This collection of clothing had accumulated from various family Christmas and birthday presents in the last year or so.

"Shall we put on some costumes and dress up?" was Jenny's request upon sighting Percy's second wardrobe.

"Why not? You be a princess. I think that you would look very beautiful as a princess, Jenny."

"I think," replied Jenny, "that I look very beautiful already."

"Well I actually meant that as well."

"But you've only got boys' clothes in this box."

"You can still wear what you have on now, and add one of the crowns, and some other things. If you're going to be a princess, then I shall be a knight."

In order to be a knight, Percy took out a shirt with a shield painted onto it and some plastic armaments, and the sort of boots that he thought should be worn by a young boy pretending to be a knight.

"And what should a knight and a princess do now?" queried Jenny.

"How do you fit all of those costumes in that box, Percy?"

"With the greatest of squeeze, Jenny."

The young pair chose to occupy the television room, still clad as a knight and a princess, in order to watch a romantic movie. Most romantic movies feature at least one scene, wherein the lovers collide their lips together - at varying speeds, depending on the movie - with a view to expressing amorous feelings towards each other; and the movie chosen by Sir Percival Knight and Young Princess Jentil was no different with regards to its uncompromising readiness to provide such arousing scenes of many splendored things.

And Percival and Jentil were aroused.

"Why don't you kiss me like that?"
"Because I've got a plastic ... err iron mask on my face."

"Then you will just have to take it off, for I wish to be given a chance to try out this new kind of kissing."

"I will not take it off. I am a knight."

"Then I shall chase you until you do."

"Fare ye well," said the witty young Sir Percival Knight, as he jumped up and ran out the door. He found his way to the western staircase so fast that he wondered whether princess Jentil would look for him in the house or the garden.

The chronicler wishes to assert that Princess Jentil was not always light on her feet, and something happened when she began to ascend the eastern staircase, which was not carpeted.

The thing that happened was this: Sir Percival heard Princess Jentil climbing the eastern staircase.

Quietly he ran back down the western staircase and made his way back to the television room and sat down to stare at the screen.

It took her ten minutes.

"Sir Percival, I've-"

"-been looking everywhere for me. Come and see the rest of the movie. Then we can have lunch."

Which they did.

After lunch they went for a walk to the station, and then walked up to Wahroonga Park, where they spent a solid three quarters of an hour on the swings, until the novelty began to wear off.

Then the two extremely young lovers kissed 'the way they did it in the movie', as they sat on the wall of the Wahroonga Park fountain.

"Start young, don't they?" said a man to his friend, as the two of them got to work on the gardens of the park in order to go about their jobs.

They walked home, and the day soon came to an end.

"Pity we can't have the house to ourselves all the time," said Percy, as they returned to the tennis court fence.

"Why don't we build our own little cubby house in the bushes just here? I've got a lot of father's unused wood at home."

The next few days were busy ones.

Piles of wooden boards were carried to a fence and passed over it. The same piles of wood were carried to a location in the bushes, where they were joined together in various ways, by means of a hammer and nails from Percy's grandfather's toolbox; and a rectangular prism supported by four wooden blocks had been constructed by the twentieth of December.

Percy took the eiderdown from his bedroom cupboard - which he would not need for the bed during the summer months - and used it to soften the floor of the cubby house.

"We'll have to use the fluorescent tube alternative of my torch as a lamp if we ever use this place at night. Now I can bring out what we need each day, so we can play chess or checkers, or dress up or whatever in here, without cluttering up the tiny house with heaps of stuff. It will be alright if I take it back at the end of the day."

The young pair failed to ever become bored with each other's company. Percy's grandmother never wondered what he had been doing. She was simply relieved that he did not seem to be bored. Jenny's mother was both educated and happy about the situation. On the twenty-third of December, Percy asked Jenny to come to the cubbyhouse - which they had ceremoniously christened Jentil Manor (after the play on Jenny's princess identity) - the following morning at ten o'clock.

Percy had saved his money and bought a Christmas card and a box of chocolates for his grandparents,  a box of large coloured hair ribbons for Jenny - who sometimes wore her hair tied at the back by beautiful ribbons, creating the prettiest of ponytails - along with a Christmas card, and some party food which he brought down to Jentil Manor at half past nine on Christmas Eve.
Both Percy and Jenny would want to be with their families for the preparation of Christmas decorations and other procedures in the afternoon. So Percy had planned a surprise Christmas party for Jenny in the morning.

"Percy this is wonderful!" exclaimed the part-time princess, as she entered the manor of her namesake.

They enjoyed their party, and Percy enjoyed his first Christmas at 66 Burnseid Street. The only new event to Percy was being there on Christmas Eve, because Percy's grandparents usually held large Christmas Day parties every year, and invited all of the family and relatives. The only people missing were Percy's parents. His cousins, aunts, uncles and various others were all there as usual.

His only concern was that some of them may venture far enough into the bushes to discover the location of Jentil Manor. However, he was able to keep the activity away from that area, although plenty of games were played on the large lawn nearby. If a ball ever strayed into the bushes, Percy would opt to fetch it out again, which made him very popular with the adults, because he was seen to be a good host keeping the games going, while doing the dirty jobs. His ulterior motives were justified. Jentil Manor was a private world for two, and he didn't want to explain its existence to anyone.

He did not need to.

Nobody found it.

He was fortunate.

Christmas passed them by, and there were new things to do, and new days in which to do them. Kissing was done in both of the methods previously attempted by Percy and Jenny. Sometimes they felt in the mood for collisions of the lips, and on other days, kissing of the cheeks seemed more appropriate.

It was always fun.

It was never violent.

It never needed to be.

Whatever they did, they were content. If there was potential for disagreement, one of them would think out a suitable compromise. The author almost considers it a regrettable shame that they chose to preserve the secrecy of their relationship, because the successful ongoing pattern of rendezvous made by those two youths would put a lot of unfriendly adults to shame.

However, there was something in Percy's mind which warned him, that if they told of their relationship to anyone, there would eventually be some unwarranted efforts to undermine it, which might possibly arise from the activities of adults.

When he had been seven years of age, Percy had once dreamt that he had saved an extremely beautiful princess from a threatening fate in the bushes behind his first preparatory school in Killara. Now he had his chance. The princess in his dream had also worn a blond ponytail.

Jenny really was his beautiful princess, and they had so far saved each other from boredom and loneliness.

So far.

There was another day, when his grandparents went out and left him by himself at the house.

It was an extremely cloudy day with rain pouring down every now and then. Percy invited Jenny around, and took out the water pistols which he had been given as  Christmas presents. The two of them enjoyed a riotous water pistol fight. They chased each other all around the garden, and up into trees, onto rooves, and anywhere else that they could reach, filling up their water pistols at separate taps whenever they had both the chance and the need.

At one stage, Jenny pursued Percy up into the oak tree, with a fully loaded water pistol, immediately after Percy's pistol had run out of water. He was too high up to jump and run for it, so he simply climbed higher, and Jenny climbed after him.

"You'll never get away Percy. I'll catch you."

Percy adored her.

Even in the middle of a wild chase, with a pistol in her hand,  Jenny was  able to produce a sweet smile on her lips, as she announced Percy's fate. He was realising that he had had a romantic capacity ever since he had been six years old. It had taken a girl like Jenny to help this tendency towards romance to hatch itself, so that Percy gradually became more and more aware of it. So there had been pretty ladies on the television. Why had he not developed this capacity for romance then? Subconsciously, Percy had acknowledged that he would never see those ladies anywhere, except on the television screen. So he had dismissed them from his mind as soon as they had left the screen, and gone back to reading comic books or finding other things with which to amuse himself.

There had also been times when he had met young girls. However, Percy was unlikely to be moved towards any act of romance with a collection of young girls who sat in a bus or a train and giggled together, probably for no logical reason. Here was a twelve year old girl who Had Fun and Made Sense.

But their time was rapidly moving towards expiry date.

This did not occur to young Percy Dale, as he made up his mind to climb further and further, higher and higher, out along the branches of the oak tree, heading for the end of a special branch, his safety branch. Percy had prepared for the event of his running out of water at the most crucial moment, by opening the upstairs doorway, which opened out from the western upstairs hallway to the upstairs courtyard. This special branch brought Percy to within jumping distance down to the courtyard.

It never occurred to him that Jenny's mother would be extremely displeased with a boy who had led her daughter to a tree branch six metres above the ground, with nothing but hard concrete to land on in the lower courtyard if she fell; but children are children, and children have underhanded fun sometimes, and they are ignorant, and the moral issues behind such facts are not necessary to the thrust of this story, so we shall omit them here.

Percy made his jump, ran into the house, waited for Jenny to land safely in the upstairs courtyard, and then closed the door, locking it tight.

He ran down the stairs and out into the lower courtyard.

"Percy, let me in!"

"Toss your pistol down to me first, and I'll go up and let you in."

"That's not fair."

"That's the fortunes of war."

She tried to squirt him from above a few times, but he was free to run to wherever he chose, and she eventually tossed the pistol down to him, and admitted defeat.

Percy climbed the staircase, walked down the hall, opened the door, and then ran to his own bedroom and prepared to defend himself with his pillow.

"Alright then," said Jenny, and went into one of the spare bedrooms.

"Alright then, what?" said Percy, relaxing on his bed with pillow in hand.

"Alright then this!"

Jenny ran into the room and initiated the first pillow fight that those two had ever shared in their brief acquaintance. The both fought furiously, swinging the pillows with the speed of squash racquets; but Jenny was overmatched, and she eventually called upon a previously unknown reserve of aggression, and swung the pillow wildly towards Percy, knocking his own weapon out of his hand, and brought her own down hard on Percy's chest.

"You're the cheekiest cheat of a boy I've ever met! You're .... hurt."

"Oh ....., " groaned Percy, caressing his stomach with his hands.

"I'm sorry. I'll rub it better. Oh my poor Percy!"

Percy giggled hysterically.

"You're not hurting at all!"

"No, but I'll bet that's cured your attacking me for a while."

"Yes I think it has," giggled Jenny, and Percy sat up and hugged her.

It was all part of the fun.

 

The weeks went on, until there was only one week of Percy's stay at 66 Burnseid Street left.

They had a long and special cuddle in Jentil Manor on the last full day - the day before Percy's parents came to collect him - at Burnseid Street.

Then Percy and Jenny said their secret goodbyes.

Percy's parents had brought him some souvenirs, and he still had a week of holidays remaining in his own home, but nothing seemed to be fun anymore. Jenny was to move house again that year, but Percy was not to know.

He returned to a life of unpleasant experiences of being bullied at school - "Misery Parlour", as James Hamilton had described it - without even the company of James to look forward to. It was a life of being bullied, and of teachers who always saw only enough  of the scene to take the side of the naughty ones. He could make a paper aeroplane. A juvenile delinquent could grab it in the playground and tear it into pieces. He could use the swings in the school playground. A group of demoralising boys could stand around and make less than encouraging comments, because he would not join in with the football games that simply had to be played, even in summer.

Whatever he tried to do only lived up to James Hamilton's description of the school that he (James) had left. Percy endured it all and pined for the brief period of his life that he had enjoyed with Jenny.

At that stage in his young life, he would eventually be sufficiently distracted by hanging out with male friends, television shows, comic books, and all of the things that had occupied his mind in the years before he had met her, so that he was not continually depressed. However his heart would always hold a special place for his tenth summer, spent at his grandmother's house, and the days and nights of that period in which he had been privileged to enjoy the company of Jennifer Winters. Somehow the thought of Jenny chasing him was not as prevalent as the chasing and mischief scenes had been in the dreams of Miss Newkin and the Wanderer of Wahroonga. Yet the sweetness of Jenny as a giantess seemed to compensate.

 

Percy was lying in bed recalling what had happened to him in recent weeks.

 

            It began two months after Percy's young ten year old self had last seen the twelve             year old Jennifer Winters. He had been staying at his grandparents' house

            over the December and January Christmas holidays, while his parents were overseas.

            He had befriended a young girl who lived behind his grandparents' property. Her   name was Jenny Winters. She had encouraged him into an early youthful love affair

            which had been brought to an inevitable end by Percy's return to his parents' house at

            Killara in February, in time to start with sixth class.

            He was still missing Jenny in April. One day he concluded his Friday schooling

            and boarded a train to take him home to Killara. The train had arrived late and was

            therefore unusually crowded. He walked up and down the carriage searching for a

            vacant seat and found none.

            "You can sit beside me if you like, little boy," said a beautiful lady.

            She had her hair done similarly to Jenny's. It was tied behind her head, but not in a

            ponytail. It was blonde like Jenny's. The lady looked like an adult version of Jenny,

            except that Percy still thought Jenny to be the prettiest of the two.

            "Thank you," he said, "My doctor thinks I shall grow to about five foot seven when

            I'm an adult."

            "I'm Ilona, and I'm six foot five," she said.

            "Then I suppose I shall never be as big as you," he said, as she moved her bags to

            make room for him, "I'm Percy Dale."
            "Well Percy, you may sit beside me until I alight at Wahroonga. That way you won't

            have a crowded train to worry about."

            "Actually, I'd be getting off at Killara. My grandparents live at Wahroonga though."

            "Whereabouts?"

            "66 Burnseid Street."

            "Well why don't you come over for some afternoon tea and then catch the train, if you

            need to later? Maybe you'll like to stay."

            The offer was irresistible. A beautiful lady, who reminded him of Jennifer Winters

            was showing him every kindness. He would accept the offer. He felt happy sitting

            there with her beside him. It was almost like having a cuddle. This lady was a grown

            up, but she cared about a ten year old boy.

            "Thank you very much, Miss Ilona. I would like to have some afternoon tea."

            The train eventually pulled out of Killara. Some people had alighted at previous     stations, and there was now plenty of room. Percy had been looking at Ilona as often

            as possible, hoping that his keenness would not alter her intention to welcome him

            into her home.

            The thought of arriving home late at Killara was soon dismissed from his mind. He

            had been late before, to visit a friend, and Ilona was definitely to be considered as

            his friend. With Ilona's car, he would not have to face the exhausting walk with his

            schoolbag that would have been necessary, had he been allowed to visit Jenny.

            However, Jenny was a high school girl, and would be busy with her homework all

            afternoon.

            They left the train at Wahroonga, and Ilona drove him to her house, and parked in

            the street outside its twelve foot high stone wall. Ilona unlocked the door, showed

            Percy inside and locked it again. After walking across an expanse of garden, she took

            him into a large mansion which was luxuriously furnished and decorated.

            Ilona sat him at the kitchen table.

            "What would you like to eat and drink?"

            "Well what do you have?"

            "Ask for anything. I'm sure I'll be likely to have some."

            He chose cola and lamingtons, and enjoyed a generous supply of them. It was a     unique opportunity to eat as much of his chosen food as he wanted, and not be

            discouraged. Ilona was a generous host, he thought.

            After he had finished the thorough satisfaction of his sense of taste, he asked what

            time he should leave.

            "How about this: I'll show the house to you, little Percy. Then you'll see all of the

            rooms here."

            "There must be a lot of them."

            "There are."

            "Are there any other people who live here?"

            "No. I bought this house myself."

            "How old are you?"

            "Twenty-four."

            "I'm ten. I don't think I will be able to buy my own house when I'm twenty-four."

            "Why not?"

            "I would never have enough money."

            "I'm very rich, Percy. So I have all the money that I'll ever need. If you ever need

            something, I could buy it for you."

            They came to a bedroom which had a captivating view of the back garden.

            "Do you think this room would be a pleasant one to stay in?" she asked.

            "Yes. It's got lots of shelves to put things in too."

            "Maybe you could choose that as your very own room."

            "Do you mean you would let me stay here overnight sometimes?" asked Percy.

            "You may think of it as your own bedroom, Percy."

            "It's been awfully nice to meet you," said the boy, "It would never have happened, if

            the train had arrived on time."

            "Yes little Percy. Something wonderful has evolved from the tardiness of the train."

            "What does tardiness mean?"

            "Tardy means late."

            "I see. So what is your job? It must be something important, the way you earn so

            much money."

            "Actually, I don't have a job."

            "So how can you be so rich?"

            "I inherited all this from my parents when they died. I'm glad you came over today.

            It's nice to have somebody else here with me in this big lonely house."

            "Do you feel lonely sometimes?" asked Percy.

            "Yes, I often do. Now that you're here I feel happy instead."

            "I've been feeling lonely for two months."

            "Why did it start in February?"
            "I was living at my grandparents' house in the Christmas school holidays. I met a

            beautiful girl in the house behind us in Burns Road. We fell in love with each other,

            but when school started, I had to say goodbye to her. Nobody else even knew that

            we were friends, apart from Jenny's mother. Jenny's cousin Laura might know that

            I used to let Jenny kiss me, but she would be the only one who does know. I've been

            missing Jenny for the whole two months since it happened."
            "Maybe you won't miss her so much, now that you've seen my house. There's lots of

            places here for a little boy to play and enjoy himself."

            "It's very kind of you to show me all of this. Has anybody seen it, apart from me?"

            "No, Percy. You are the first visitor that I have had for years. I think very carefully

            about whom I would be prepared to trust inside my secret house inside the high

            walls."

            "When did you have a chance to think about me? We only just met this afternoon,"

            said Percy.

            "I thought about you on the train. There's something about you that makes me feel

            very sure that you are a special young boy, Percy."

            "Well you must be a special lady too."

            "How do you know that?"    

            "Because anybody else on the train would have just left me to stand up. You let me

            sit beside you, moving your bag for me."

            "I didn't think that you should have to miss out on sitting down, all because the train

            was running late. I hope you were comfortable."

            "Yes I was. Thank you very much for everything, Ilona. I suppose I will have to be

            going soon."

            "I was hoping that you would decide to sleep in your nice new bedroom tonight. I

            can give you  a nice big dinner and read you a story or something before you go to

            sleep."

            "I'm old enough to read my own stories now."

            "Then maybe we could play cards."

            "But my parents will be wondering where I am."

            "I can send them a letter explaining that you won't be coming home anymore," said

            Ilona.

            "But I would still like to go home myself," said Percy, "I've enjoyed being here, but

            I live in Killara."

            "Wouldn't you like to live here?"

            "Not all the time. I'd better be going now. Could you unlock the door at the front wall

            for me, please? I'll come back to visit you again another day, Ilona."

            "No Percy. You're going to stay here from now on. I've decided that you're going to

            live here in this house so that I'll always  be able to see you."

            "Why do you have to keep me here?"

            "I think you're a nice little boy, and I don't want to have to say goodbye to you, ever.

            You're going to live in this house for years, Percy. You can have whatever you like,

            but you must do what I tell you."

            "But I have lots of things at home. Can't I get my comics and toys before I settle in

            here?"
            "No. You might want to stay at Killara, if we went there to collect your things. I will

            buy you some new comics, and some toys too."

            "I don't want to be trapped here," he said.

            "Well you are trapped, Percy. You can never climb the stone wall, and I have the only

            key to the locked door. I'm a lot taller than you could ever grow up to be, and you will

            never escape from here. Why don't you just accept your situation and enjoy your new

            home? You shall have no chance at all to get away. I'll never let you go, Percy, at

            least not for many years. Come out to the kitchen and tell me what you would like for

            your dinner."

            Percy had no choice but to obey. He was completely in the lady's power. He         suggested fried chicken; and she put the television on for him to watch while she was

            cooking the meal. Eating dinner with her was an enjoyable experience, but he

            objected to being denied his personal freedom.

            After dinner Ilona produced a packet of cards, and he chose some games for them to

            play: fish, blackjack and five hundred.

            Finally it was time for him to go to bed. Ilona made the bed for him and tucked him in

            neatly.

            "Goodnight, Percy. I'm sure you will like being here, as soon as you get used to it,"

            she said.

            She brought her head down and he saw that she was going to kiss him. Her lips

            touched his right cheek. Then she smiled and withdrew them.

            "I'll see you tomorrow, Percy."

            He soon drifted off to sleep, but he awoke in the middle of the night and thought   about his situation. Ilona was beautiful to look at, and she would look after him for

            many years, but he would miss out on other things, which often seemed so much

            more important than a crush to a child. He would be like a prisoner. He knew that he

            wanted to be able to do things by making a free choice, rather than obeying the lady

            who had kidnapped him.

            "This is it," he thought, "My only chance to escape is at night. I'll have to find that

            key to the door. Ilona's too grown up to give me half a chance of getting away with it

            in the daytime. She won't miss the key while she's asleep though."

            Percy crept out of bed and quietly slipped off the pair of pyjamas that she had lent

            him. It was a pair of her own pyjamas, and it was too large for him. He had had to

            tighten the draw cord and roll up the legs and sleeves. She had said that she would

            soon buy him a pair of his own. Now he put his own clothes back on.

            "If I do make it to the street, I'll look exceptionally suspicious to anybody driving

            around tonight. I'll be a young boy wearing school clothes walking the streets in the

            middle of the night."

            Once dressed he slung his schoolbag over his shoulders, and tiptoed into Ilona's

            bedroom. She lay looking lovely, fast asleep, but he knew that he had to lift the key

            from her bedside table without making a sound. If she heard him and chased him,

            she would be able to catch him in no time and overpower him with the greatest of

            ease.

            He clasped the keys in one hand and the ring in the other, and lifted the lot up

            without causing any movement from the bunch of metal objects now in his

            possession.

            Ilona had not stirred at all.

            He must leave the house silently.

            "I don't know whether she's a light sleeper or a heavy one, but she might wake up to

            the sound of the front door opening, if I'm not careful about it."

            He left the room and found his way to the front door, using only the small portion of

            moonlight that fell in through the closed windows. When he reached the door he

            gripped the handle tightly, paused to summon his nerves, and then turned it,  planning

            to gently ease the handle back after the door had been opened, rather than letting it

            click back into place.

            He pulled the door open. It made no sound at all, but to his utter surprise, an electric

            buzzer sounded from Ilona's room.

            "She's had the house alarmed," he thought, as he ran towards the front wall, hoping to

            find the door quickly in the darkness, "She'll be up and after me as soon as she notices

            that her keys are missing."

            He was nearing the wall when he heard her calling from the front door:

            "Come back, little boy! I'll catch you, Percy."

            He frantically turned the key, as she ran towards him, opened the door with a haste           that was in itself a perfect antithesis of the way that he had opened the front door, and           ran down the footpath. Ilona caught him up in less than one minute. He had only   emitted two cries for help before she cupped his mouth, lifted him up and carried him             back inside her property.

            He went to sleep and had a dream that she had reduced him in size to ensure that he          would not escape, and he had made his attempt, awoken her, and been pursued in the   night, recaptured and taken inside and kept beside Ilona’s head on her pillow, so that         he could not elude her again. This appealed to him in a strange way. He saw his lack    of freedom in a new and more arousing light.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            In the weeks ahead Percy enjoyed playing all sorts of games from sports to box     games with Ilona.

            He avoided suggesting hide and seek, for fear that she might see it as an

            attempt to escape. However, one day she chose the game herself.

            "I'd better hide in the house rather than the garden," he thought, "Since I can't use this

            game to escape the property anyway, I would be wise to give the impression of not

            even wanting to."

            Percy concealed himself under a pile of bedclothes which were lying on the floor  in

            the hallway awaiting a journey to the washing machine. Ilona counted for three

            minutes and then called out:

            "Here I come, Percy!"

            She searched the gardens first and then came into the house. She stepped right over

            his hiding place and continued on into the nearest room. She searched in cupboards,

            under beds and behind the doors of all the rooms, but she eventually gave up.

            "I can't find you Percy. Where are you?" she called out.

            He waited until she came down the hallway again and then jumped up with

            bedclothes still wrapped about him.

            "There you are! Oh you look cute like that."

            Ilona lifted him up and gave him a cuddle. It was a nice experience, and he waited

            until she put him down, before he started to think about what had happened.

            "Well I fooled her. She never guessed that I was under there. I would have at least

            thought of looking under the pile of sheets and blankets, after I had lost the chance

            of success in all the obvious places. Maybe I can win this by being cleverer than

            she is," he thought.

            It was Ilona's turn to hide.

            "It should be harder for her," he thought, "because she's bigger than I am. There are

            fewer places small enough to conceal her."

            Percy counted his three minutes and then decided to use as much stealth as the hidden

            person.

            "Some people move around rather than hiding in the one place for hide and seek. I've

            done that myself, when I played with Jenny and Laura. It would be to Ilona's

            advantage to move around and hope to spy on my attempts to find her. She has the

            speed advantage of longer legs and the size disadvantage of fewer places to hide. So

            she would be better off to find me and stay out of sight behind me. So the best thing

            for the seeker to do is remain as well hidden as the hider. I'll have to creep around and

            surprise her. She'll give herself away with noisy movements, if she doesn't know I'm

            nearby. If I'm this good at outwitting her, it's a real wonder that I haven't broken out

            of Ilona's childproof prison fortress yet," thought Percy.

            He called out to Ilona that he was coming to find her.

            He tiptoed through the house on the balls of his feet, listening for even the slightest

            scuffles or sounds of breathing. There was still no sign of Ilona.

            "Maybe she used her longer arms and legs to climb up somewhere," he thought. I'll

            save looking up from the bases of trees until last."

            He stepped out of one of the side doors and crept around the house staying between         the walls and any available bush cover. The second window he passed made him

            stop and think.

            "She's been past this one. She must be creeping around, peeking in the windows to

            see if she can locate me in there. This part of the glass that's not obscured by the bars

            is a hint that she was there, because it has fogged up to show that the glass was

            recently the target of somebody's breathing."

            He crept around as fast as he could and soon came up behind her.

            "Hello Ilona," he said.

            "Percy! You're very clever. It looks like you've won both games of hide and seek.

            What shall we play now?"

            "Chasings and tips would be no good at all, because you would always catch me. I

            would never catch you, and I'd be out of breath in no time at all."

            "Yes, it wouldn't be very fair to you. I could give you a piggyback ride into the house

            if you need a rest."

            "Well I don't need a rest, Ilona. Can I have the piggyback anyway, because it would

            be fun to ride on your back?"

            "Of course you can, little Percy."
            She knelt down and let him climb onto her back.

            "Don't worry, Ilona. I know that you should never pull tightly on somebody's neck,

            when you're having a piggyback ride. It might choke a person."

            "That's exceptionally sensible, Percy. If I choked and fell over, you would fall down

            too. Now into the house we go."

            She carried him into the living room and let him down onto the couch. Then she sat

            down beside him and put her arms in two places. Her left arm went around Percy's

            shoulders, and her right hand reached down to hold Percy's right hand gently.

            "Are you enjoying yourself today?" she asked.

            "I enjoy myself every day now. I don't know how I ever used to put up with going to

            school and having to do boring things all day. You make every day of the week a

            lot of fun. Now I shall never be bored or lonely again, all because of you Ilona."

            For a twelve year old like Jenny, on the borderlines of becoming a teenaged girl,

            the acting would have been a major accomplishment. For the ten year old Percy

            Dale it was a superb masterpiece of thespian espionage. The trained observer

            would have perceived no suspicion at all to be emanating from Ilona, because there

            was none.

            "I'm so proud of you, Percy. You have come a long way since you first moved in

            here. To think that you tried to run away the first night."

            "Thank you for bringing me back and showing me that it was worth staying here,"

            said Percy.

            "You're absolutely welcome," said Ilona.

            He saw her leaning towards him, bringing her face closer to his cheek. The lonely

            Percy Dale of subsequent years would spend most of his times reflecting on the

            fact that most ten year old boys were not fortunate enough to have a beautiful adult

            lady kissing their cheeks whenever the opportunity arose. A lot of them would not

            even have an appreciation of such things. He would also reflect on the fact that he

            could have been encouraging the lady to expose a child to romance way ahead of his

            time. However, he wasn't.

 

            Finally Ilona's kissing of Percy's cheek came to a complete halt, as Ilona announced

            the need to prepare Percy's dinner as well as her own.

            "I could do worse than to stay here," he thought, "I would probably never be in any

            danger. I would never have to work at all. I would be with a beautiful lady and have

            all of the nice things a boy could want. Still I know it isn't right to let her get away

            with kidnapping me. So I must escape. The question is: Will she ever forgive me, if

            I succeed?"

 

*          *          *          *

 

            "Would you like me to teach you how to dance?" she asked him after they had eaten

            their dinner.

            "It would be lovely to dance with you, Ilona," said Percy, looking into her eyes with

            genuine admiration of everything she had done for him other than holding him there           against his will.

            "Then I will teach you after dinner has been cleared up," she said, and proceeded to

            clear the table.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            She held his hands gently and instructed his movements as they danced around the

            floor slowly.

            "Do you like dancing?" she asked.

            "Well it's fun with you, except that I can't be close to your beautiful face down here.

            I'm a lot shorter than you are," he said.

            "I can solve that problem, little boy," said Ilona. She put a table in the centre of the

            room and lifted Percy up onto it.

            "There, Percy. Now we're roughly the same height," she said, "So I'll hold your

            hands and follow with you from the floor while you dance around the edge of the table. We won't be able to do crossovers, but we'll have a nice dance."

            He was almost ready to abandon the idea of escape.

            "All of this would have to be sacrified purely because she is doing the wrong thing,

            and yet I believe that I should escape from that, and I do still miss Jenny Winters

            too. Maybe I just might meet her again one day," he thought.

            He went to bed with every intention of continuing his facade with Ilona, enjoying

            it while he had to, and waiting for the chance to escape. The bottom line was that Ilona couldn’t reduce him to tiny size, and he might as well look for a way back to his regular life.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            "There'll be no end of fun and thrills with these three great toys: remote control plane,

            remote control boat and remote control car..."
            Percy watched the advertisement and then the cartoons returned to the television

            screen.

            "Ilona," he asked at breakfast, "Did you say you would be able to buy things for me?"

            "Of course I will, Percy. Have you found something you like?"
            "I'd better ask for the whole set," he thought, "Otherwise she might smell a rat. If she

            does happen to expect me to choose one, then I shall ask for the plane."

            He asked her if she could go and buy one of each of the three remote control models

            for him and some batteries to work their remote controls and the models themselves.

            "Why certainly, Percy. I'll bring it all home for you this morning, and you'll have

            plenty of room to play with them in the large gardens outside this house."

            "Thank you Ilona. Just think of the war games we could have if we each took one."

            "We would have to leave the boat out of it, and save it up for the bath. I might have a

            swimming pool built in the garden one day."

 

*          *          *          *

 

            While Ilona was out, Percy found some paper and a pen. He proceeded to write the

            following in small capital letters:

 

                        ATTENTION PLEASE. MY NAME IS PERCY DALE. I HAVE

                        BEEN MISSING FOR SOME WEEKS NOW.

                        THERE MIGHT BE A BIG REWARD FOR YOU.

                        ANYWAY, CAN YOU PLEASE TELL THE POLICE THAT I HAVE

                        BEEN KIDNAPPED BY A LADY WHO WANTS TO ADOPT ME

                        WITHOUT MY PERMISSION?

                        I AM INSIDE THE FOUR HIGH WALLS THAT ARE BUILT AROUND

                        THE HOUSE AT THE ADDRESS WRITTEN ON THE OTHER SIDE OF

                        THIS SHEET OF PAPER.

                        YOU MAY KEEP THIS PLANE, BUT I COULD NOT FLY THE

                        CONTROL DEVICE OVER THE WALL AS WELL.

                        PLEASE HURRY!

                        THIS MAY BE MY LAST HOPE OF BEING RESCUED!

 

                                    PERCY DALE.

 

            He turned the sheet over, wrote the address on the back, and then took off his right           shoe and sock. He concealed the message under the arch of his foot and covered it            with the sock and then the shoe. He paced around the room and convinced himself             that he could achieve the necessary deception.

"Good. It doesn't rustle about in my sock when I walk. When Ilona returns, I'll pretend to be keen to have her accompany me to run the boat in the bathtub until she eventually insists on making lunch. Then I will still have a full supply of battery power  in the plane. I'll have to work fast and secretly while she is making lunch. Luckily the  kitchen's at the back of the house. She'll never see the plane clear the

            front wall and head for the street. I'll have to show a major interest in the car, the   boat, or a completely different game, so that she doesn't notice the plane's absence too           soon after  lunch. I'll have to allow time for the person who finds the plane to use it,          before she goes out looking for it. Then I can confess everything. She will have to let    me go   and hopefully flee herself. Once we're out in the street she won't be able to             make me go  with her, without my causing a scene at some stage."

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Ilona returned with all three toys.

            "The shop has included batteries in all of them, Percy. So you can play with them             without having to change the batteries over, as soon as you like."

            "Could you come and watch me do the boat in the bathtub?" he asked.

            "Why not? We've still got an hour before I need to start working on that curry we're          going to have for lunch."

            Percy had chosen a curry, which he knew from previous experiences of waiting, took        a long time to cook. Ilona would be well and truly occupied by the time Percy had         launched his call for help.

            Lunch was eventually declared the next order of Ilona's business, and she herself    added to Percy's happiness by suggesting that he go outside and try the other two        toys.

            He walked out the front, left her to return to the regular task of preparing their meals,        and removed his shoe and sock. He opened the cockpit of the plane, inserted the             folded piece of paper and sent his most recent attempt at securing his liberty over the       front wall and crashing down somewhere in the street below.

            "Someone must find it," he told himself, as he tied his right shoelaces up again, "I'll            have to confess it soon after lunch, I suppose. If it hasn't worked, she'll go out and        find it anyway."

 

*          *          *          *

 

            "How are the others?" she asked at lunch.

            "I haven't tried the car yet, but you should see the plane go. Let's try the car on that          clear stretch of grass out the back after lunch."
            "Alright Percy."

            "Thank you for buying all three of them, Ilona, and for the batteries too."

            "You're very welcome. I said you could have anything, and I'm so glad that you     finally asked for something."

            "I would feel guilty, if you spent your money on special presents all the time, but I           thought I should wait for something I really liked. You were very generous."

 

*          *          *          *

 

            "The car works well, Percy. Now I only need to see the plane."
            They had eaten lunch at a leisurely pace, and spent an hour playing with the car after        that. If somebody hadn't found his crash offering by now, then he had no hope of           liberty from Ilona's imprisonment anyway.

            "Well actually, I can't use the plane anymore. I started it up at the front of the house,        and it flew up towards the street. I could make it go forwards easily, but the steering         dial on the remote control did  not seem to stop it from flying right over the wall and         crashing somewhere, I suppose. I guess it was very silly of me."

            "Don't be sad, Percy. It wasn't your fault if it didn't work. I can always buy you   another plane, with a new remote control too."

            "You're very understanding to me, Ilona."

            It had all come to him, even as she had asked. What was there to lose? Why not stall         for even more time?
            And she had taken the bait!

            Ilona was not even going to bother searching for a plane that she thought must       obviously have been broken beyond any constructive repair. He decided to wait one     more hour, and then give Ilona a chance to escape from the police.

            "By that time  it will be half past three, and half the school children will be close to           home. Somebody must find it by then."

 

*          *          *          *

 

            "Ilona, I have set up a sneaky trap for you, I'm afraid," he said.

            They were playing cards.

            "What do you mean?"
            "I sent a call for help out on a piece of paper wrapped in the plane's cockpit. I made it      while you were buying the plane. The police will be here soon."

            "Oh no!  I'll have to leave. I can get at my money, but I will never be able to use this          house again. You fooled me well over all these weeks Percy, but why did you tell me          now? You could have waited for the police to break that locked door down."

            "I have to give you a chance to get away."

            "Why don't you want to see me arrested?"
            "You remind me so much of my Jenny. Liking you wasn't a trick. I really did like you       the whole time. The only trick was me pretending not to try to escape from here."

            "There's no way I could drag you along now. I'll have to let you go. You're a clever            boy, tricking me into buying that plane for you."

            She collected some small personal items and then led him out to the gate, unlocked it         and put her arms on his shoulders in the street.

            "I guess this is goodbye, Percy."

            He burst into tears.

            "I hated being trapped here, but I'll miss you, Ilona. I'll miss you very much. You're a        pretty lady."

            They hugged each other.

            "I don't want you to go to jail. You never really did anything to hurt me," said Percy,        still crying.

            "Thank you very much for warning me about what you had done."
            "I would have warned you earlier, but I had to be sure that the plane would be found         before you noticed it missing."

            "I understand. You were brilliant."

            They heard the sound of an approaching siren several blocks away.

            "Percy, I will never get away in time. They will arrest me."

            "No they won't, Ilona. You hide in the front garden bushes next door until I can draw        them all inside. I'll let them think you're still in the house. I'll be keen to show them        the alarms on the house doors, and everything I can to get them inside. You slip away       when the coast is clear," said Percy

            "Thank you, Percy!"

            She kissed his cheek and ran for the bushes next door.

            Soon the police wagon arrived. Two officers stepped out, as well as the local

            postman, who held the remains of the plane in his hand.

            "I saw it lying on the road," he explained, "and thought of doing it up for my son, but

            then I found your letter. It took some time to convince the police I wasn't making a

            game or a joke, but I am glad you're alright, lad."

            "She seems to have gone out, after she bought me the toys," he said, "It gave me my

            chance to escape. You should see the alarms on the doors and the barred windows.

            She has had me here for weeks."

            "We might never catch up with her," said a policeman, "but we'll all search the house

            now. It might give us some clue as to where she went."

 

Percy Dale walked home from Killara Station. He was eleven, and it had been some months since he had spent an enjoyable Christmas holiday period of his life with Jennifer Winters, the twelve year old girl who lived in the house behind Ordinairy Man Manor. He had been ten when he had met that girl when he was ten, and had since turned eleven.

 

On this particular day, he just come home from Waverton Boys Preparatory School, located two streets from Waverton Station. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Percy made himself a hastily prepared afternoon tea consisting of chocolate wafer biscuits and fruit juice. He then turned his attention to his homework.

Mathematics was easy for him. If he learnt the new rule or formula for the lesson at school, he could complete a number of homework questions in very little time. English grammar was similar, although compositions required and extra degree of thought. Social studies was the problem. Percy did not lend himself graciously to the task of exploring an atlas, and he had equal difficulty in writing an essay about a portion of world history. In time, Percy would move up into Waverton Boys High School, which was around the corner from its preparatory counterpart. There, Percy would discover, social studies was replaced by two subjects: history and geography. Fortunately, he would be able to abandon geography in pursuit of a foreign language subject in school year eight, also referred to as second year in high school. The foreign languages he studied in high school would prove useful in his adult Sneaky Spy adventures overseas.

After making a reasonable effort at his homework, Percy found other ways to amuse himself, until it was time for dinner. He then read a chapter of a novel before lying down, switching off his reading light and preparing to go to sleep. He could never drop off to sleep immediately after dinner.  

Having decided that dinner was the most counterproductive meal of the day, Percy would spend up to an hour reading in his bedroom between dinner and sleep, in order that the revitalising effects of the food would be somewhat negated.

Now it was time to relax and enter the world which was different in many ways, each time one went to visit it. To Percy, the world of dreams would alter at least once every twenty-four hours, depending on how many dreams he would have in one night.
Percy was soon sound asleep. The weeks and weeks of sixth class that he had, in reality endured that year had been replaced by the end of those Christmas holidays. He was still ten years old, and he was about to commence his first day of sixth class. He wondered about his teacher. Would learning be fun? It had been enjoyable in the previous year, if he ignored certain unpleasant events.

He arrived at school at half past eight, which gave him about half an hour to spend in the playground, before the school bell announced the unwritten instruction to move into the classrooms. One of the teachers had left the school at the end of fifth class, Percy remembered, and there had been some talk of rearranging the remaining teachers' classes, and leaving one free for the replacement teacher. Percy wondered about the likelihood of sixth class being taught by the new teacher. Sometimes new teachers were easier to get to know, because they were politely feeling their way around an unfamiliar system in a previously un-encountered area of educational territory.

"What did you do in the holidays, Percy?" asked one of the boys.

The question rang like a fire alarm in Percy's ears.

"Oh no," he thought, "I cannot tell people about Jenny. She was my little secret. Now she's gone. How would these boys understand about the cubby house in the bushes, the Christmas party we had, the chasings and the hide and seek in the gardens at night, the adventures as Sir Percival Knight and Princess Jentil, and worst of all how much it made me feel so sad to say goodbye to her?"

He thought about it and eventually replied, "Oh nothing much. I just did a few things at home."

"You never go away, do you? How boring. Good one, Percy."

Time rolled on in the dream world, and then the bell rang. Percy walked into the classroom and sat down in the front row. He would be close to the door at recess, lunch and at the end of the day. He would also have easy access to the garbage bin, and would have less distance to walk, if he needed to bring a question out to the teacher's desk in order to ask for help. There was one more reason for sitting almost in front of the teacher. Percy would be able to get on with his work, because any attempts to harrass him would be more readily seen by a teacher if he sat in the front row.

"I wonder if we'll get old Wacky," said one of the boys. The origin of the nickname of the teacher concerned had never been publicly declared. Percy had guessed at three possible reasons. Firstly, linguistic corruption could be responsible for converting Mister Jackson's name to Jacky and then Wacky.  Secondly, the word Wacky could refer to the suspicions held by numerous people, that Mister Jackson was becoming senile in his later years of life. Finally, Mister Jackson's nickname could act as an alternate adjective, pertaining to Jackson's reputation with a long thin stick. He was known, in the educational circles at Waverton Boys Preparatory School as being "the hardest caner in the prep."

"Well I hope we don't," said Percy, turning his head around to look back at the boy who had first mentioned Mr Jackson.

"Don't you have any respect for the school rules?"

The voice came from the doorway into the classroom.

It was not Jackson's.

Percy turned his head back to face the front of the classroom, feeling most unfortunate about the likelihood of the teacher arriving as soon as he had turned his back.

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, as it continued: "Yes, you. Turn around, face the front and stop talking. You should be quietly waiting for the first class of the year to start. Your behaviour is absolutely shameful for somebody in the first few minutes of sixth class."
"So we do have the new teacher, and all of the good things about that may not happen now," he thought, "I've gotten off to a bad start with a brand new teacher, and now all my hopes about a fresh new year have gone to waste. Why oh why did I have to turn my back and talk? It's just not like me to do that, but somehow I did."

Such is the confusion of events which occur in a dream, where a person can act in a manner which is highly inconsistent with his character, then recognise the fact and face the humiliating scarcity of explanations for such an apparently incongruous act of misbehaviour.

He felt a strange mixture of emotions revolving in his mind. This new teacher had been a surprise to him, a shock which had taken him into an unexpected round of embarrassment. Despite the surprise, Percy had the confused suspicion that he knew this teacher in some distant way.

He racked his brains and shovelled into the soil of his memory, searching for the chronological location of any clue which may serve to remind him of a possible previous encounter with this teacher.

"Well now that you're all quiet," said the teacher, "You can write my name in your home lesson books, and then copy down the class timetable as I write it on the blackboard. My name is Miss Winters."

"That's it," thought Percy, "but how? Jenny Winters didn't have a sister, and this lady doesn't look like Jenny's mother. She looks and sounds like an older Jenny. It makes no sense. Jenny should be twelve, and with her hair up in a ponytail. It's crazy. She's too different from Jenny to be Jenny; but she's also too much like Jenny for her not to be Jenny. I cannot be making it up. She had a voice I remembered even before I turned around to see her walking angrily into the room. She must be Jenny Winters. I've got to understand all this somehow."

Percy realised that he had been lost in thought. Miss Winters rubbed Monday's timetable off the board, in order to make room for Wednesday's.

She looked at least as  pretty as young Jenny Winters had been, probably even prettier, Percy decided. Percy turned to look at the timetable for Monday on the desk adjacent to his. The boy let Percy copy it.

"You again!" snapped Miss Winters, "What's your name?"

"You already know," thought Percy, before he almost made the mistake of saying it out aloud.

"It's Percy Dale, Miss Winters."

"Well Percy, why can't you copy from the blackboard like all the other boys?"

"I didn't get all of Monday's stuff written down, Miss Winters."

In truth, the brain has two sides, one that dreams and one that reads, making it impossible to read anything in a dream.

"Let's see what you're missing," she said as she approached his desk, "What? You haven't even started it! You naughty little boy! You can stay in at recess and I'll dictate the timetable to you then. I'll teach you to sit in my classes doing nothing."

Percy was almost in tears from the surprise. She did not remember him. There was no sense in attempting to relate the story of their Christmas holidays adventures to her. She would probably punish him further. There was nothing to do except try to find proof that she was Jenny Winters. Then and only then could he attempt to tell her the truth and ask her some questions.

"Well maybe it's good that I have to stay in at recess," he decided, "It will be just her and me. Maybe I can find out something then."

They finished copying the timetable, and then started the first lesson. It was social studies, and Percy found it unusually interesting, enjoyable, and for reasons only possible in a dream, he was able to do it well. He even scored full marks in the quiz at the end of the lesson.

"Jenny had a better way of teaching it just now than my old teacher had last year," he thought, and then he realised that he had called her Jenny without thinking, "but Jenny Winters and I used to be equals and friends and in love, like on television. Now this Miss Winters thinks that I am a trouble causer, and she's my teacher. She is older and looks down on me and doesn't like me. If only I could know it was really her and things could be happy again."

An idea suddenly came to Percy as he was putting his social studies quiz into his desk, leaving the desktop free to receive the mathematics exercises being handed out as Miss Winters paced the rows of the classroom. Jenny had been taller than Percy, and Miss Winters, a lady apparently in her mid twenties towered over these sixth class schoolboys. She was one of the tallest ladies Percy had seen. How had she managed to be so similar to Jennifer Winters, and yet so different?
"I know," thought Percy, "There is one way to make any teacher like me. I'll work very well, better than all the other boys. If I can do this well in social studies, the maths and English will be so easy. Then she will like me enough to believe that I used to know her, or someone very much like her. Then she can perhaps be like Jenny Winters again, sort of. I can see her every day at school. Imagine that. Instead of school being awful because I never see the girl I missed, I will be able to look forward to going to school for five days a week, and that will make the weekends worse than school instead, because school will be better. Maybe I can even see Miss Winters on weekends too. That would be something."

"Alright boys," said Miss Winters, "You won't be able to get your books from the school shop until after lunch. So these are just some more exercises to keep you all thinking until later. If you get stuck, go onto the next ones, and we'll go through it all in about twenty minutes."

Percy began to work through the mathematics exercise, until his train of thought was interrupted again by the voice of Miss Winters:

"Well I think you're all doing a good job at social studies. I've just worked out that Benjamin got the second highest mark, and the top mark was one hundred per cent in social studies, so someone else did even better."

Why had Miss Winters read out Benjamin's name and mark and ignored Percy's name?

"I got higher than Ben. Well I'll do even better in maths anyway," thought Percy.

To exceed a score of full marks is hardly a plausible feat. However, Percy's intention to improve on his social studies performance when he did mathematics was based on his hopes of achieving full marks while all other boys in the class achieved considerably less than Benjamin's social studies score, when their marks were totalled up for the mathematics quiz.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy achieved his goal, but he was still unable to comprehend why Miss Winters again declined to mention his name. He put his hand in the air and waited until Miss Winters noticed him and said "Yes Percy."

"Who got full marks each time in maths and social studies, Miss-"

"How do you know it was the same person each time?" asked Miss Winters.

"Well I don't, but I just meant whichever two people it was. I mean, I'd like to know."

"Why don't you mind your own business and think about your own marks?"
"Yes Miss Winters."

"You can all go to recess now, except for Percy Dale," said Miss Winters.

The other boys left the classroom, and Miss Winters began to dictate the timetable. Percy wrote it down in his book and wondered if she would say anything about the Jennifer Winters girl whom Percy could not forget.

"After all, we're alone now. Maybe Miss Winters was keeping it secret, and she does remember me," thought Percy.

"That's better. Now why can't you copy it off the board like everyone else in the class?"

"Well I'm sorry. I was just daydreaming by accident."

"Why do you daydream in class time? Are my lessons supposed to be too boring for you?"

"No, they're good. I was just thinking about a friend I used to know."

"Well please do your daydreaming at home. Any more of it in class, and you can do detentions after school to make up for the work that you miss out on while you're thinking about your friends."

"I won't do it again, Miss Winters."

"I'm a new teacher here, Percy, but that doesn't mean that I don't know what little schoolboys get up to. If you want to misbehave, then you'll be punished for it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Winters."

"I hope so, because if I have any more trouble from you, then you will have a lot of trouble from me. I'm here to make you all work hard for the whole term. You're in sixth class now, not kindergarten or pre-school. I just won't put up with all the antics that silly little boys get up to."

Percy put his home lesson book in his desk, and Miss Winters allowed him to venture out into the playground for the remaining five minutes of recess.

"Would you like me to carry your bag to the teachers' room, Miss Winters?"

"I'll carry it myself, thank you, and you just be seated at your desk quietly when class resumes in five minutes."

Percy was avoiding fact and fiction with equally definite prejudice. He had copied from another boy, and come top of the class. He faced a losing battle. If he worked his hardest, he would avoid trouble, but receive no mention of Miss Winters' apparent counterpart Jenny.

Percy had no problems with the double period of recess between recess and lunch. At lunch time,  Percy decided to put his suspicions to the test.

"All I need to do is to climb into the teachers' room while the teachers are out supervising the playground. Then I can look for some way of checking to see if Miss Winters is called Jenny."

Percy stole around behind the school building and located the teachers' room. The room was empty and the window was open.

"Hooray for summer," thought Percy as he climbed through the open window. He found Miss Winters' pigeon hole, and then her books. All he could see in the inside covers of her books was the same unintelligible group of letters, which his mind could not read in the dream.

"Another failure," thought Percy. It had been merely enough to whet his appetite, without giving him any certainties. He still had to find another way to determine whether or not the J definitely stood for Jenny.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

It was the voice of Miss Winters.

Percy rapidly turned away from her books, and composed a lie.

"Well I was playing hide and seek, Miss Winters, and I was really sure that nobody would think to look for me in here."

"Hide and seek! What nonsense! You were going to steal my books, weren't you? Why don't you eat your lunch at lunchtime, like everyone else does?"

"I was going to eat it."

"When? Where is your lunch now?"

"In my schoolbag in the classroom."

"Well fetch it at once and bring it back here. It's a good thing I remembered to come back for my tuckshop money, or I would never have caught you in here."

Percy soon returned with his lunch.

"Now Percy, I have to buy my lunch, but from now on I won't bother. Since you're too busy hiding in teachers' rooms to eat your lunch, you're going to secretly give it to me, as well as your recess food every day. If you don't bring me all of it every day, I'll tell the rest of the school that I caught you trying to steal things in here, and then you will be expelled from the school."

He could only sit and watch her gobble down his lunch, knowing that he would now have to surrender all of his food to her on a daily basis in order to escape being punished for a nonesuch theft, when he had actually been attempting to conceal a minor act of espionage.

As she finished off his sandwiches, Percy had an idea. If he could see her wearing her hair in a ponytail, he would know a little more about the similarities between Miss Winters and Jenny Winters.

"Miss Winters, could you do something to help me? I could bring you extra food if you do. I was writing a poem called 'Going to the Barber's' for a hobby at home. I found a word that rhymes well with ponytail, but I don't know what a ponytail looks like, because I have never seen anybody wear their hair that way. Could you hold your hair in a ponytail with your hand, just for a minute?"

"Percy Dale, I'm not about to do a favour for a boy who won't stop breaking the school rules. Now you go out into the playground and don't forget to bring me your lunch, and your recess food too, every day; and if I catch you eating anything yourself in this school, I'll have you expelled for coming in here."

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Alright, we've got two periods left. I can't give you any more maths or social studies work until you've got your books, so I think you had better all write a composition in this period, and I'll mark them next period while you go and get the new books."

Percy decided that he was too shy a boy to confront Miss Winters with the truth.

"I've had two chances alone with her today and I couldn't do it. I'll use this composition to tell her about Jenny and myself, only I'll disguise it a bit," thought Percy. He began to write (not in words, but in his mind):

 

                        There was once a girl called Jean Wilkie who lived in

                        a nice house. One day she met a boy called Presley,

                        who invited her over to his house to play chasings and

                        hidings. One day they couldn't see each other anymore.

                        So Presley missed her, but when he thought he

                        recognised her somewhere else one day, she couldn't

                        remember him.

                        He bought her some lunch, but she still didn't

                        remember him. He knew that he had to solve the

                        mystery. So he tried all sorts of ideas, but they only

                        got him into trouble. Eventually, he felt so sad that he

                        just sat down and wished that Jean Wilkie would

                        remember him. He wasn't even sure that it was Jean

                        Wilkie, but he was pretty close to sure. She seemed the

                        same, and also different. He decided that it would have

                        to stay a mystery, until she proved who she really was.

                                                            THE END.

 

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Well I did some marking while you were all getting your books. I don't know where some of you get your ideas from, but they're all very well written, for sixth class boys anyway. You can all go home now, and remember to look at your timetables each day and get out the correct books to start first period."

Percy absorbed the fact that his composition had failed to invoke a reaction from Miss Winters.

"She caught me when I stole into the teachers' room at lunchtime," thought Percy, "but I'm sure I know her. I don't know how old she is now, and I don't know how she got that way in less than a month, but I am going to find out. She won't catch me creeping into her house, until it is too late."

"But how can you find her house?" said the silent mentally questioning voice which represented the cynical side of his young mind.

"That will be so easy," thought Percy, "because I will just let her show me the way."

He used his chemistry set to invent a shrinking formula, took it and reduced his size unnoticed in the empty teachers’ room, and then hid himself inside Miss Winters’ handbag. He would now be taken to her home by Miss Winters herself.

Now Miss Winters could not drive, and this would be the logical inability of a person who would be the age of young Jennifer Winters. Instead, she walked to a house located in Wollstonecraft, two small suburbs away. He was finally doing something for a lengthy period of time, and managing to avoid being caught in the act. Everything he had attempted had resulted in his own humiliation. He was finally able to outwit the lady who bore the surname and initial of his friend Jennifer Winters.

He waited until he heard her entering the house and putting down the handbag, and leaving the room. Then he crept out of the bag and heard her on the telephone. He found himself listening to an unhappy mixture of tears and words. It had been intended for the recipient of her telephone call, but its volume had no trouble penetrating a closed window. It reached the ears of Percy Dale in time to inform him that Miss Winters was speaking to-

"Laura, it's been an awful day. You're the only one who knows all of this. I couldn't believe myself at school, but it was the only thing I could think of to do."

"Laura," remembered Percy, "the name of Jennifer Winters' eleven year old cousin."

"Laura, how can I give the boy good or bad marks for a composition like that?"

"Yeah, figures," thought Percy.

"Laura, it's too much to cope with right now. I'm going to lie out the back on the hammock and sleep until whenever. If I had the energy, I'd prepare myself some dinner, and with daylight saving going on, I could eat out in the garden, but all I want to do now is sleep."

Percy waited for her to say goodbye, after which she put down the receiver and was soon settled in the hammock.

"Well that's good," thought Percy, "She left me an open back door."

With Miss Winters asleep in the hammock, Percy was able to walk through the back door, discarding his need to use the side boundary bushes for cover. He made his way towards the sleeping woman, enjoying the realisation of his giantess fantasy.

We do not know if, and if so what type of dreams were being encountered by Miss Winters. However, we know that she awoke to see a tiny boy standing beside the hammock.

"Percy! How did you find me and get here so small?"

He explained.

Miss Winters had broken her pattern of belittling his every word and action.

"Miss Winters, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, I guess."

"And you'll answer truthfully?"
"I'll try... if I think it's something you have a right to know about."

"And you won't punish me again?"

"Of course not."

"Then who are you really?"

"I'm Jennifer Winters, formerly of Burns Road Wahroonga," said Miss Winters.

"Jenny, you are Jenny! I've always suspected it, but how did you become a teacher, a lady over twice my young age? Why did you pretend not to know me, and be so unfriendly to me at school?"

"I wanted to tell you when I caught you, looking for what J stood for, I suppose. Then I wanted to show you a ponytail like this."

She held her hair up in a ponytail. She looked just like the Jenny that Percy knew well.

"So why not?"

"Because I'm older now. I was afraid you wouldn't understand, that you wouldn't want to be my handsome young boyfriend any more. I'm an adult, Percy, and you're a handsome young boy. We used to be neighbours of neighbouring ages. I was hoping to frighten you away to a new school, so we'd never see each other, until I could work out how to fix myself. I could only get a job at Waverton Boys Preparatory School, because they happened to have a job that didn't need experience. How can I have experience and prove it, when I was twelve only a month ago? Now I must be twenty-four. Oh Percy, you just wouldn't understand."

"Tell me, and of course I'll understand. I recognised you, didn't I? That was before you wanted me to find out."

"I just woke up the day after you left your grandmother's house, and I was a grown adult. I told Laura about it on the telephone, and then felt a strange urge to come here, where I found an empty house with a key in the door lock. I found furniture, but no people in the house. I knew I could stay here, and that's why I knew that I had to take the job offer from your school. They both came to me in the same area, the house and the job."

"Maybe it happened so that we could be together. It's actually easier for us now than it was when you were a twelve year old girl living in Wahroonga and going to a girls school."

"I don't know how I changed, but I'm sure Laura would love to be a girlfriend of yours if

you-"

"I don't want to be Laura's boyfriend."

"But she'd be your own age."

"I love you Jenny. I'm young and I don't understand love the way some people do, but if you really still love me, then we could be special friends at school."

"But look at your size, and I thought I’d changed! Percy, I’ve just had an amazing idea! You look so nice and small that I can eat you for my dinner!”

It was in that moment that the young boy understood why he had been dreaming about being shrunken and chased by giant ladies and girls for years. The focus had always been on the smiles and laughter of their mouths. He had subconsciously wanted to be shrunken, chased and EATEN by a beautiful woman. And this Jenny wanted to do it.

"Well it's more useful than an apple for the teacher," said Percy.

Jenny giggled adorably.

“No, really, I mean it, Percy. You’ll go down whole in a few gulps!”

"Oh Jenny, this is what I hoped for all the time."

"Even though you seemed to know I was older?"

"And you must stop worrying about that. The problem wasn't that you were older. The thing that upset me was the way you made the worst of everything at school. I've seen movies about boys falling in love with their teachers, but this time the teacher and the boy were both already in love, and I’d love you to eat me."

"And in love in the strangest of circumstances," said Jenny, "I guess it would be silly for a lady my age to be in love with a ten year old boy, but I remember you and the way I felt about you last month, when I was only twelve. We mustn't let anyone find out about us. I shall swallow you down this very night."

"Nobody will, Jenny," said Percy, "Oh do I still have to call you Miss Winters?"

"No."

"I nearly called you Jenny today at first."

"Well don't worry. You fooling me today was the hard part, and you've already proved you can do that. The two of us together fooling everybody else will be easy."

"So long as I don't have to read out my compositions to the class."

"Well you won't have to read today's little effort, which was not bad by the way," said Miss Winters.

"Thanks Miss... Jenny."

Then he was amazed as Jenny lifted him up and began moving him towards her mouth.

 

*          *          *          *

 

The real world Percy Dale awoke.

"She... it all seemed like it really happened," he thought, "She had a strange feeling telling her to go to live in Wollstonecraft. Maybe if I have a look around the streets of Wollstonecraft after school, I can at least find a young Jenny, which would be everything to me right now. I can be as devoted to my search as I was in the dream. Maybe I’ll at least find someone who wants to shrink me and eat me. I thought it was possible at last, but it was a dream. Now I know I don’t just want to be tiny. I want to be eaten.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy did manage to locate a house in Wollstonecraft. He had never seen the house before. He had never even entered the street wherein the house was located, prior to this Thursday afternoon, the day after his dream. He did not dare to approach or enter the property, but it looked extremely similar - in fact unmistakably similar - to the house in the dream. He waited until he saw a family drive in and step out of their car. None of them bore any resemblance to either Jenny aged 12 or the Miss Winters of his dream. Detouring home through Wollstonecraft would still see him at a station covered by his student's free rail pass, but a trip to Wahroonga would not be possible. He would not be able to see Jenny again.

"All I can do is call it an incredible coincidence," he thought, "and I might as well head home to Killara."

His teacher had been Mr Jackson that year, and he was still unable to perform well in social studies. Perhaps he would never meet Jennifer Winters again. How she would giggle at the dream if her met her and told it to her!

In reality, time is a confusing dimension of life. In a dream, time is impossible to account for, because a dream allows time to break its own rules, and to demolish its own barriers. There are as many numbers between zero and one as there are between one and infinity, and there is as much likelihood of Percy recapturing his dream about Miss Winters as there was of that Miss Winters recapturing her mysteriously vanished youth.

Consider the following facts:

(1)        It is impossible to make - in the sense of command and force - a dream to come true

            in the future.

(2)        It is equally impossible to hold onto a past reality in the future. It can be copied and

            repeated, but the original experience cannot be maintained.

Thus there may be no resulting implications from a decision about whether an event was a reality or a dream. If neither can be seized, captured, manipulated, stored and withheld; then is there any internal value in asserting the status of the event?

The author does not seek to answer these questions, but rather to present them as an answer to the apparent void left in the mind of a person who is unable to differentiate between his dreams and his realities.

A dream is also a means of satisfying the callers of both heads and tails, with merely one toss of a coin. The mind can rest, free of controlled thinking, and yet it is subject to the extraordinary level of erratic thought, which is able to equip the brain of the sleeper with a mental experience of certain facts that are not true facts. A dream enables a sleeping mind to traverse the boundaries of reality and exceed the constraints of physics, biology, geography and history. A dream can redefine these studies, as new concepts.

It was the May school holidays, one full term after the summer holiday period that Percy Dale had spent with the twelve year old girl called Jennifer Winters. Percy was ten years old, and was to spend two nights and three days at 66 Burnseid Street Wahroonga. This was the home of his grandparents.  

Having arrived at 66 Burnseid Street, Percy farewelled his family, and was anxious to explore the bushes which led to the tennis court fence of a special house with a Burns Rd address. That was the home where Jenny Winters had lived. For fourteen weeks, these two had been separated. Now, perhaps, Percy would see Jenny again, and they might even be able to plan a way to visit each other during the school terms in the future. Jenny was two years older than himself. In less than a year, she would be a teenage girl. Maybe she would be able to find a way to see more of him.

"Would you like to kick the football in the garden?" asked his grandmother, who kept a hollow plastic football in the house light enough for a child to kick without hurting his foot,'       "I have a few things to do before we can plan anything for today."

This would suit Percy's purposes adequately.

"Sure," he said, "I'll use the large lawn out under the oak tree."

His grandmother felt pleased, that this would keep Percy out of mischief for the time being, and she left him to wander over to the lawn.

He gave the football a hard kick, aiming it straight for the bushes. He then walked into the bushes, as if to pursue the football. The cubby house was still undisturbed in the bushes. It had obviously remained undetected. He would have heard something said about it, had it been discovered by one of his grandparents.

Then the surprising news was discovered by the young Percy Dale. A young boy about eight years old, wandered onto the tennis court, put down a model car and directed its movements around the tennis court, using a remote control device.

"Hello," called Percy, "Does Jenny Winters still live here?"

"No," said the boy, "We moved in here, about a few weeks ago. We live here now."

Life just did not seem fair sometimes, thought Percy, as he retrieved the football and went back indoors to see whether his grandmother had finished her chores.

They spent the day relaxing, watching television, building with toy modelling dough, and feasting on the results of his grandmother's cooking.

However, by the time Percy had climbed into bed, he was still thinking about Jennifer Winters. There was something different about having been special friends with a GIRL. If he was kept from seeing his male friends in the past, he had soon found new friends and forgotten about it.

However, it had now been fifteen weeks, and he still could not forget Jennifer Winters.

"Now I will never know where she is," thought Percy, as he lay in bed with tears forming in his young eyes. He had exhausted himself both physically and emotionally that day. His grandmother had sat, watched and talked to him, which was enough for a boy who merely wanted some company while he ran around doing things to wear off his pre-adolescent excess energy.

Percy thought back to other previous visits to 66 Burnseid Street Wahroonga.

"What else do I remember?" he asked himself, "Oh well, there was that time I snuck out at night and found that group of people in very historically old clothes in Wahroonga Park."

Percy remembered their top hats, tails, old white shirts, the jewellery in the hair of the girls, their lovely dresses, and the fact that he had discovered them eating and drinking and talking away in the park in the early hours of the morning. Having discovered him and temporarily confused him with a spy - because he had been crouching in the bushes observing them -they then permitted him to partake of their activities. He had only been seven years old at the time, or was it eight? He was not entirely sure.

"Eight, no, seven, no it couldn't be eight. I was definitely seven, because it was in third class, and I turned eight later on that year."

With the memories of the Wanderers of Wahroonga Park, and the girl called Jennifer Winters floating about in his mind along with his growing desire to be shrunken and eaten, Percy Dale sat up in his bed and looked out into the night. Below the stars were some tops of trees, a rose garden, then the driveway, the hedge, the lawn strip (not the one where Percy had kicked the football), the downstairs roof outside, and the window.

What would happen if he went out there right now?

He decided to lie down for about half an hour. This would revive his energy, as well as allowing his grandmother some time to get to bed and fall asleep herself.

"It's funny how I often have fun and adventures with special people at night, when I'm up here for a visit to my grandmother's house," thought Percy, and then he did something which had not been incorporated into the plans which he had just made. Instead of lying in bed for half an hour, prior to creeping out of the house, the young Percy Dale fell into a deep sleep and began to dream.

 

            The first part of the dream was merely a repeat of the events which had transpired in

            the reality of the days just gone past. Percy's dream self was to spend some time at 66

            Burnseid Street Wahroonga. His family had driven him to Wahroonga, dropped him

            off, shared a few welcome words of conversation with his grandmother and departed.

            Percy collected the football from the cupboard in the upstairs guest bedroom (where

            his real self was currently located in deep sleep), and kicked it around the large lawn

            for a while, until it sailed into the air and landed somewhere in the distant bushes.

            Percy walked over to the bushes, and began to search for the football.

            After a fruitless effort of crawling, lifting small branches out of his line of sight, and

            failing to find the football, Percy decided to lie down for a short rest in the cubby

            house, which was called, but not labelled, Jentil Manor.

            Percy climbed through the doorway, having opened the unhinged block of wood

            that had often served as  a door during the Christmas holidays of Percy's real life.

            Seated in the cubby house, cuddling the football as though it were a teddy bear was

            a smiling Jennifer Winters.

            "Percy boy, I have missed you," she said, "I hope you didn't mind my little prank,

            but I thought you would never look in here. I was about to come out and surprise

            you."

            "I'm so glad you are here too," said Percy, "School was just no fun at all after

            spending the summer holidays with you."

            "Summer holidays, yes. But Percy, in five days, it will be well into winter. You know

            how the second week of the May holidays  always gets colder than the first, much

            colder. I would love to sneak out with you again at nights, but how can we play

            chasings in trees when the branches feel so cold and hard on my hands?"

            "We'll go for a walk around Wahroonga instead," said Percy, "and we can wear

            plenty of warm clothes. But let's have a cuddle."

            Percy and Jenny embraced, until a voice sounded in the gardens of his grandmother's

            house.

            "Percy, where are you?"
            "Oh, that will be your grandmother. Can I meet you here at eleven o'clock tonight?"
            "I'll get here as soon as I can sneak out. Will you wait for me?"

            "Sure. I will just come out early and have a rest in Jentil Manor, right here. It's easy to

            trick my parents."

            Percy kissed her cheek and ran out from the bushes, clutching the football.

            "Sorry, Nan. I kicked it hard, and it went into the bushes. I have been looking for it

            for a while. Then I found it. Then soon after that, you called me."

            "Well you'll want to kick it the other way from now on, won't you? Then you can

            bounce it off the wall," said Percy's grandmother, "You don't need to be ratting

            around in all those bushes every time you kick it hard. You might get yourself lost

            in there, and I don't want to have to come in and find you. I don't like going in dark

            and creepy places like those bushes and trees. I never go where you have just been."

            "That's lucky," thought Percy.

 

 

Percy, in reality, usually demanded a fairly active grandmother. He enjoyed lengthy walks, outdoor games, wild card games of snap, and plenty of mischief to go with it.

 

            However, having in this dream planned a meeting with Jennifer Winters, Percy made

            a conscious decision to choose activities which would conserve his physical and

            mental energy, without arousing suspicion. So he replaced the morning walks and

            outdoor activities with a long session of card games, which pleased his grandmother

            to no end.

            "We usually play cards in the afternoon or evening," said his grandmother, "but this

            is better, isn't it?"

            "I wanted to watch a lot of programs on television this afternoon. So I thought we

            could play cards now instead."

            "It's been a good idea. Perhaps this will be your first visit when I can enjoy a good

            long rest this afternoon, without being spider-webbed into the four poster bed by

            coils of wool or something. I'll give you a snack to put aside for the middle of the

            afternoon, when you get a commercial break, and you have worked up a bit of an

            appetite since lunch. That way I can stay asleep in the afternoon, and have my

            usual night's sleep as well, because I know how you like a hot toast snack at six in

            the morning. It's a good thing I usually get up at six o'clock anyway. You don't

            mind your nan's sleeping habits, do you?"

            "Well certainly not this time," thought Percy, "not that I ever mind them. It works

            out well."

            Percy was able to eat his lunch and then put the heater on the floor in the television

            room. He enjoyed chocolate biscuits, lollies and chips at a rate that would have

            alarmed any witnesses, had there been any, and managed to swallow the lot before

            his grandmother peeked in hours later.

            "How are you enjoying the program?" asked his grandmother.

            "Fine. Thanks for the afternoon tea."

            "You must be just about ready for dinner now."

            "Yes please," said Percy, for whom the disposal of a meal within half an hour of

            gorging himself on a belated snack was a minor feat, which would not retard his

            usual evening eating habits.

            Percy watched about twenty minutes of television, while his grandmother prepared

            some grilled steak with homemade potato chips.

            Dessert consisted of tinned peaches, gelato and jelly, all together in the one bowl.

            Percy finished off the lot and then challenged his grandfather - who had just

            returned home from a charity meeting with a generous non-profit organisation -

            to a game of marbles on the living room floor.

            His grandfather accepted, and Percy produced the large sock full of marbles which

            he had been collecting since April, when marbles had become a craze at school.

 

The marble craze had been true for the real life Percy Dale as well as his dream self, who was merely remembering the reality of the marbles addiction.

 

            "Is it going to be sudden death or once twice and away?" asked Percy.

            "We didn't call marble games things like that when I was a boy," said his grandfather;

            but the elderly man was keen to adapt to his grandson's way of playing.

            "How do those games get played, Percy?" he asked.

            "Well, with sudden death, we each roll our marbles, taking turns, and the first person

            to hit the other person's marble with his own is the winner. Some people play for

            keeps at school, and some just play for fun and don't hand over the marbles when they

            lose the games. We can just play for fun."

            "And how does once twice and away go?"

            "To win, I would have to hit yours once, then a second time, and then roll mine away

            from yours and wait until I can hit yours a third time. If I hit yours a second time

            straight after the first time, then it's away. If I don't, then it's your turn, and I have to

            try again for my twice and away."

            "I understand," said his grandfather, "Well let's have a sudden death game to warm up

            and then finish the evening off with a longer once twice and away game."
            "I think it had better be once, twice, away, and off to bed for you after the games,

            Percy," said his grandmother, "You have had a long day."

            Percy won a coin toss and rolled his marble first. His grandfather would have the first

            targeting roll. So Percy's roll had to finish as far away from their starting point as

            possible. He rolled it far across the room, and it came to rest beside the piano.

            "Ooh, you had better not miss me," said Percy, or I get to do elevations next move."

            "What's that?"

            "Well if my marble stops right next to something, I can use a turn to lift it up onto the

            thing, like the piano."

            "But why on earth would you want to lift it up there?" asked his grandfather.

            "So I can do bombs the move after. I can throw it from up there, just above the piano.

            If I hit your marble when it lands, it's sudden death."

            "Well let's see, shall we?" said his grandfather with a plan in mind. He rolled his

            marble only half of the distance covered by Percy's.

            "Elevations," said Percy, and lifted his marble onto the piano.

            "Are you sure we're not playing 'marble-ations'?" asked his grandfather.

            Percy laughed for a while and then waited to see what his grandfather would do next.

            His grandfather rolled his marble gently towards the piano, so that it came to rest

            just underneath the piano, about an inch or two inwards from where Percy's first roll

            had finished.

            "That's clever," said Percy, "Now I can't elevate down again, or I'll be right in the

            path of your marble. I can't bomb you either. So I will have to just do bombs and

            hope I get to a good spot to get you next time."

            Percy's 'bombs' move caused the marble to ricochet off a chair and roll into the

            western downstairs hallway.

            "Oh dear, we'll be at it all night, just on sudden death," said his grandfather.

           

*          *          *          *

 

            Percy lost the sudden death game, and managed to redeem himself playing once

            twice and away. By nine o'clock he was lying in bed wearing his winter pyjamas.

            Percy decided to put on a black pair of long trousers, some white socks and           sandshoes, and wear a white shirt under his black jumper, which had a long neck.

            "I'll wait until quarter to ten and then start putting those things on," thought Percy.

 

To amuse himself, he imagined what sort of clothing would be worn by Jennifer

            Winters.

            "Oh she will look lovely no matter what she chooses for clothes," thought Percy,

                        "She always looks very lovely. It's like she's too special for anyone else but me to know about. That's why I don't tell the boys at school about her. They would

            probably think that I was becoming a cissy."

 

To the real Percy Dale, the concept of being called a cissy sounded rather stupid. His interpretation of the word "cissy" was  "a boy who is interested in the hobbies and interests of girls." So what was wrong with that? It was unusual, but the word "cissy" was always used

in a derogatory tone. Percy was less than pleased about it. However, in his dreams, he could put the realities of school aside and see Jenny again:

 

            "I'll bet she would tell them not to call me a "cissy," he thought, "but it wouldn't

            matter anyway, because right now they're not going to get another chance."

            The grandfather clock at the far end of the house, on the ground floor actually, struck

            a quarter to ten, which meant that it released the same combination of chimes that it

            gave out after every third quarter of the hour.

            However, the clock was not heard by the young Percy Dale, who was in fact

            relying on his watch. He slipped out of bed and dug deep into his suitcase. His hands        soon emerged with the items of clothing required for his visit to Jentil Manor and

            beyond.

            "Just what I need to look dark in the dark," thought Percy, "And I found the lot in the

            dark. Oh, oh. That's Nan coming up the stairs. Well I will jump into bed and pretend

            I am asleep. She'll never know that I've got all this on."

            He soon had his black necked black jumper completely covered by an eiderdown

            that reached his chin with ease and still enveloped his feet. He soon heard his door

            being opened.

            "Are you awake?"

            He lay there motionless until his grandmother had decided that it would be absurd to

            expect him to say 'no', after which she closed the door and retired to her own bedroom

            for the night. Percy knew that the wooden steps of the eastern staircase would creak

            loudly.

            "It would actually be less risky if I walk along the hall carpets, past Nan's bedroom,

            and go down the other stairs. Then I can get one of the distant downstairs doors open

            and make it to Jentil Manor secretly."

            He chose to leave the house via the billiard room, opening one of its side doors and

            stepping out onto the terrace. He then walked along the terrace, looking up at the

            vines and the wooden framework above him, until he reached the large lawn.

            A short and silent sprint brought him to the bushes, and he soon found Jenny waiting

            for him in Jentil Manor; waiting, but fast asleep.

            The prowl through his grandparents' house had been slow, in order to ensure that its

            total degree of silence had been maintained. She must have dropped off while waiting

            for him. He pressed the light button on his watch. The time was a quarter past ten.

            "Well the whole thing took half an hour," he thought, "but it would have been longer

            if Nan hadn't gone to bed early. She gave me a chance to sneak out now instead of at

            eleven. Jenny does look so sweet and delicate like that, sleeping with her forehead

            up this end.  If it weren't for the moonlight, I wouldn't be able to see her at all."

In reality, Jentil Manor was dark enough in the daytime, because of the surrounding plant life around and above its wooden structure. At night, it would be pitch black, but this was a dream:

 

            Percy gently lowered his hand onto her forehead and stroked her hair backwards,

            until he reached the start of the ponytail.

            She opened her eyes suddenly, and then smiled as she recognised him.

            "Percy, what time is it?"

            "About quarter past ten, my darling."

            Jenny sat up and put her arms around Percy as he sat in the doorway of Jentil Manor.

            "Isn't it nice to have all of those trees above us?" said Percy, as he looked out at the

            surrounding environment which had served as a concealment for Jentil Manor in

            the daytime for fifteen weeks.

            "Percy, I could almost make a picture of your face, right now. You look like a

            handsome young adventurer in your black and white clothes with those lovely eyes

            looking up at an angle."

            Percy looked at Jenny. She was wearing black sandshoes, a white dress with a black

            jumper on over its top half, and transparent stockings kept her legs warm.

            "I think you look so lovely that I wish that the whole world would leave us alone for

            a long time, so that we could be together instead of at schools far apart," said Percy.

            "I wish something like that too," said Jenny.

            "Well why don't we go off and have an adventure now?" asked Percy.

            "Okay, let's go for a walk.  Shall we go out your way to the street?"
            "I've never been out your way. We could climb over the tennis court fence quietly

            and..."

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Percy and Jenny had soon made their way through Jenny's garden and down the sleep

            but short driveway to Burns Road.

            They walked along Burns Road, arm in arm, passing its most productive landmark,

            Larmont Orphanage, which was also addressed in Water Street, the next street

            along. They eventually navigated the remaining streets to Wahroonga Park, and

            found the fountain empty.

            "That's funny. It's usually full of water," said Jenny.

            "Listen, I hear voices near the swings," said Percy.

            "Let's hide in the fountain and see who they are," suggested Jenny, "We won't be

            seen if they don't come this way."

            "Alright," Percy agreed, and the two of them watched a crowd of strangely dressed

            people walking past the swings with large picnic baskets. The group of some twenty

            or thirty odd people sat down on the grass, having lowered some rugs to absorb the

            dew, and began to conduct a nocturnal picnic.

            "Their clothes must be from the early twentieth century," said Jenny, "because they

            look like the people in my history book pictures, well sort of anyway."

            "You're right, Jenny, and I have a strange feeling that I have actually met these people

            once before... That's it! They're a group that I called the Wanderers of Wahroonga."

            "Let's join in with them," said Jenny.

            "No wait; I've got another idea. Last time they let me join in, but sent me home to bed

            when they were ready to pack up. This time, why don't we wait until they pack up?

            Then we can follow them out of here and see where they go?"

            "Well we could do that, but I'd rather meet them. I won't let them send us home. You

            wait and see."

            "Alright then, let's go," said Percy.

            Then they simply strolled over and introduced themselves. Percy and the Wanderers

            remembered each other, but Jenny was new to all of them. The two young children

            joined in with the unusual evening festivities, and then came the familiar

            instruction from the man called Aygin.

            "It's very late. Don't you two need to be going home to your beds?"

            "But some of you are young children like us," said Jenny.

            "Now why didn't I think of saying that last time?" thought Percy.

            Jenny continued: "We were really hoping to learn more about you. We're outsiders,

            and my school English books say outsiders are a little different to most people.

            Shouldn't we stick together?"
            "I guess you can see why we're out here in the first place," said Percy.

            "Alright then, perhaps I should be honest," said Aygin, "It is not easy for us to trust

            people outside of our extraordinary group. We are called the Ninthstar Nomads, but

            your calling us 'the Wanderers of Wahroonga' is also clever. We were actually born

            in the late nineteenth century, but every so many years, a strange star called the

            Ninthstar appears over earth, where we are and then vanishes. We will then be

            transported nine years into the future. Hence the name Ninthstar. It's not always nine,

            actually. Sometimes it's eighteen or twenty-seven, but always multiples of nine. Then

            we will live in that time period until the Ninthstar comes again. This time we have

            been here for four years. We usually avoid people, but you're one of the few who has

            ever seen us twice, Percy. We all have the strange properties in our bodies, which

            make us susceptible to the time spanning properties of the Ninthstar."

            "Well I hope you're here for a little longer," said Jenny.

            "We cannot remain here indefinitely," said Aygin, "but we have wandered in many

            places which are in fact all the same Wahroonga, but in different time periods. Our

            powers are confusing to most people, but we are aware of your problem. Percy

            cannot be in Killara and Wahroonga at the same time, which has the effect of

            separating you two during school terms. However, we have one last gift for you,

            before we depart from this time period. Even now I can feel the Ninthstar

            approaching the earth, but you must remember the jewels in the hair of the ladies

            and girls in our group. Each jewel has a different power according to its colour. We

            shall give you a green jewel, which can teleport its holder to any place on earth.

            Either of you can hold onto it and visit the other from Wahroonga or Killara. You

            have only to exchange what your time period's people refer to as telephone

            numbers in order to arrange your engagements for the future. The Ninthstar is

            coming. We must leave you for now."

            "Thank you, all of you," said Percy, as Aygin handed him a green jewel.

            "Percy look, they're glowing grey somehow," said Jenny, and then the Wanderers

            of Wahroonga were gone.

            "We'll be years older if we see them again," said Percy, "but they've done something

            wonderful for both of us."
            "Let's try using it together," said Jenny, "Do you think that it could take us back to

            Jentil Manor?"

            "We could try touching hands with the jewel in between our palms."

            "Like this," said Jenny, "Yes I can feel that it will work. Percy, you think us back to

            Jentil Manor."

            "Alright stand by. I'm going to teleport us back."

            They both glowed a green colour, and then they were standing on the roof of Jentil           Manor.

            "Smart stone," said Percy, "It moved us up a bit so we wouldn't bump our heads on

            the roof. We were standing up when we left the park."
            "Now we can be together often," said Jenny.

           

*          *          *          *

 

The real Percy Dale awoke. It was morning. He felt robbed by reality, but he was not to

know of his future with an adult Jenny Winters. To the young Percy Dale, reality and the dream world had stolen from each other. The reality of his being awake in his room that morning had stolen the experiences (with Jenny and the Wanderers) away from him; and the irony was that the time spent unwittingly on those dreams themselves had robbed him of the reality, that he had intended to pursue in the form of a night prowl. He also felt disappointed that the dream had not allowed him to indulge his giantess vore fantasy.

The concepts of dreams and reality are not two separate and distinct entities. They are capable of overlapping, interaction with each other; and a thought or experience in either one of their worlds can stimulate a thought or experience in the other.

As a teenager, Percy helped the local church people to set up a small Saturday evening restaurant at the church, using its coffee room under the different name of Bite Delight. For some months the restaurant was a successful venue for Christian musicians to entertain diners; and provided a chance for guest speakers to preach the word of God to an audience who might be unlikely to attend the Sunday church services. The serenity of this atmosphere was soon disrupted by a gang of teenage vandals, who did everything they could to destroy the work of the church. On some occasions they would deliberately pretend to accidentally knock cups or plates off the tables, causing them to shatter on the floor. They would find numerous other ways of vandalising church property, and also chose to walk into the restaurant smoking marijuana at their leisure. Percy was terribly frightened of them; and the church people made frequent telephone calls to the local police station.

Too often it was the same story: The police would arrive long after the vandals had left, and nobody knew their names. Percy even saw them during the daytime on a Saturday afternoon, when to his disgust, they followed him around tearing down the restaurant advertisement posters for Bite Delight, that he had been sticking up around the local area with the permission of the local council. He had to watch his efforts being ripped to shreds and thrown into garbage bins, merely to appease the paltry machinations of the simple skulls that rested upon their excessively powerful shoulders. He eventually gave it away, and decided to seek the permission of shop assistants, to stick his posters up inside the shop windows. That had defeated the vandals, for the moment.

There was one delightful night when they failed to put in an appearance. It seemed that they had found other pastures to pervert on this one Saturday night of reprieve, after so many awful experiences. Percy, who usually stayed indoors in the restaurant in order to avoid being bullied by the vandals, decided to talk to the people who were congregating under the moonlight in the gardens of the church. If the vandals returned that night, to keep up their weekly record of destructive achievements, he could always head for the door, as soon as he saw them coming; but for the moment he would be happy. As he approached a group of teenage boys and girls, he saw one more reason to perhaps be happier: a beautiful girl, whose incredible full shapely lips and greater height all unwittingly played up to the giantess vore fantasy which had grown much stronger in his mind with the onset of adolescence. She had a  haughty confident look, which made her far more arousing than any of the other ladies who had been in his hopes and dreams in the past. The irony was that it would also most likely make her unwilling to match their friendliness and interest in him.

The girl was very pretty, and almost as tall as Jenny would probably have grown to be by that stage in his teenage life.

Ingrid Castlecove's haughty dignified penetrating beauty had an arousing glamour, which made him instantly wish that she was already in love with him and willing and able to shrink and eat him. He attempted to meet the impression she gave him with an artificially confident dignity of his own, as they exchanged their full names. (Days later, he would use the surname to find the only Castlecove of Wahroonga in the telephone book).

He reached to stroke her hair uninvited, hoping to convey a sense of bravery, but this fell to pieces, when he could think of no appropriate words with which to accompany the gesture.

"You're a little short to be attempting something so bold, aren't you?" she said with a carefree attempt to tease him.

"I like big tall girls," he said with a truth that nearly contradicted the falsity of his feigned show of confidence.

Her greater height (already six feet) would make her the most amazing giantess of all, if he was reduced to tiny size. She was already taller than him.

"I like sweets," she said, contemptuously dipping her hand into his open pocket, which she had noticed to be full of lollies.

"Have some," he offered, wondering if it had the slightest chance of impressing her.

"I intend to," she said, removing a huge handful that almost entirely exhausted his supplies. Ingrid used her free hand to put one of them into her mouth, and then transferred the rest of them to her own pocket.

 

The sight of her mouth receiving the lolly drove him wild, and the last thing he could do was tell her why, lest he be surely laughed out of her life.

It had been easy for girls to do things like that to him in those days. The teenage Percy had to let her take his lollies with a ninety-nine per cent certainty that it would not make the slightest improvement on his chances of attracting her.

"I don't suppose those sweets would be worth a sweet kiss," he suggested.

"They might be worth it, but you aren't," she mocked.

She took out another of his lollies, and kissed it.

"There!" she said, and ate the lolly.

What little remained of his forced confidence was blown to bits, as she saw him burst into tears. She seemed to enjoy this and smiled cruelly at him before laughing in a way that made her seem as beautiful as she was unkind. She would have flattered herself with the thought that he had run into the church, because he could not face up to any more of her taunting. The truth was that his tearful eyes had seen the approach of the vandals.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Later that evening in Percy's teenage years, the church people closed the restaurant and went to Wahroonga's all night service station to buy some cold drinks for themselves. Percy enjoyed his drink and then walked home. As he passed the church, he saw that the vandals were smoking cigarettes in the church gardens, and allowing their cigarette lighters to burn the leaves a little before putting out their miniature fires with the church hose.

"I hear you made a pass at my girlfriend tonight," said the tallest of them, blocking Percy's path. He was an inch taller than Ingrid had been.

"Who is your girlfriend?" asked Percy.

"She pointed you out to us when you took off, just as we arrived," said the boy, "She is Ingrid Castlecove."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I did not know that she had a boyfriend. I guess you're very lucky that she likes you," said Percy.

"And you would be lucky not to get pounded, if you didn't come to this restaurant ever again."

"I work here with the church," said Percy, "and the police won't like what you have done to our leaves."

"I've had enough of you!" said the boy, jarring Percy's shoulder with a sharp hook punch. Percy tried to parry the next one, but the boy knocked his arm away.

"Don't fight back," said the bully.

He could only have thanked the Lord for the courage to say what he mouthed next, as well as the fact that it worked.

"Just one more of those, and I'll walk next door into the rectory, and get you all thrown off this property by an angry woken minister at a late time in the night," said Percy.

The next punch partly winded him.

"Alright," he choked, as he walked towards the rectory.

They actually let him go.

He reached the minister's veranda and pretended to press the bell, to see if they would leave the area.

"The next time we see you on the street you're dead," said the boy, and the group walked away from the church.

"If you plan to assault me again, you had better make sure that you kill me," called Percy, amazed that he had not already awoken the minister, "Otherwise I'll be reporting you and whatever you do to me, to the local police!"

He waited for them to go, and then stole home himself. He had no intention of waking the minister. For to do so would inevitably lead to his grandparents learning of the incident. As well as suffering a lot of worry and concern for his safety, they might well tell him not to risk it, by never going to the restaurant again.

The following morning, he secretly made a telephone call to Hornsby Police Station, who were unable to act on the matter without knowing the names of Percy's assailants. For nearly a year after that, he had occasional nightmares about that gang, and he was always nervous at the restaurant as well as at any time when he walked the streets at night. That in itself was bad enough, but he had been hurt twice already, before the assault took place; firstly by the way that Ingrid had scorned him, and secondly when he discovered that this beautiful girl was attached to the ringleader of the vandals whom he had already feared for quite some time. He might even have welcomed the physical pain of the showdown, had it been instrumental in his having an impact on Ingrid Castlecove's feelings, but he had had the worst of all worlds that night. A year later, he had been wearing his finest suit for an early evening walk to the station, and happened to see Ingrid walking through Wahroonga Park with another girl, both wearing the uniforms of a school he knew well. They were probably in his year, but at a girls’ school instead of his boys school.

"You look well-dressed tonight Percy!" Ingrid called.

He didn't know whether the compliment was an attempt to make up, an invitation to talk, or a passing act of politeness. He did not know whether Ingrid was still in love with his unknown assailant or not, and he did not have whatever it took to walk over and find out. His planned train trip for that evening had no particular destination, but his legs just could not diverge into the park. The only thing he did know was that he had recently observed (from a safe distance) some teenagers being arrested for under age consumption of alcohol on a public railway station. He was too far away to see who they were. Maybe Ingrid's partner had found his way into the care of the law. Percy did not know, and some awful fear that the worst could happen to him all over again, prevented him from walking into that park to find out. There he was, lonely.

Something about the entire nonesuch Ingrid affair stood out from the other girls he wished he could have been shrunken and eaten by. He had to tell her of his fantasy, even though he knew she’d tease him all the more. Yet she had seemed friendly this time, without any of the mocking that had been there the previous year. As a matter of fact, she had actually complimented him, initiating discussion in a positive way. He couldn’t expect anyone, least of all someone who teased his apparently ordinairy courtship attempts, to care about his fantasy in the least, but he just knew that he wanted more than anything else in the world, more than ever before in his life, to invent a means of shrinking himself.

 

He thought back to all that he had learned from James Hamilton. Since then he had added much more high school science knowledge of electronics. There had to be a way. He borrowed every science book he could find from the libraries, both at school and at the local library. He took out all of his electronic kits, tools, equipment and so on, which largely came from birthday and Christmas presents going back several years.

 

He knew that he had to solve another problem too. Reducing himself was one thing, but how could a shrunken Percy hope to get to the only place where he would be sure to find Ingrid: her school?

It took him three months of building on all his previous failed attempts since age 12, but he finally perfected a machine that would both reduce him in size and teleport him to another location, which he could find by setting coordinates on a viewer. The controls were built down low, so that he could reach them at tiny size. He also built a homing ring which he wore unnoticeably on his finger. Turning it would enable him to send a homing recall signal to the machine. When Ingrid had seen him and scorned his tiny size, he could return to his machine and restore his size. At least he would have the pleasure of looking up to her as a giantess, the largest giantess and the most beautiful and the most mischievous and haughty.

Percy waited for a day when he got home from school early, and then sent himself into the outer gardens of Ingrid’s school at tiny size. He waited in concealment, until he saw Ingrid approaching. She looked so big now, that he had to look up and up to see her. Her dark hair was in a long ponytail. Her lower lip now looked as deep as his tiny face. Her neck would have been about two or three times his height. Even her legs looked like giants themselves to him. He had no idea what he would do, but he was aroused incredibly. 

He let her see him. There were no other girls around at the moment. This was no dream, no imagined fantasy. He had finally managed to shrink himself, and Ingrid was really looking down at him. If nothing else, she could not dismiss his shrinking itself as an impossible fantasy. He stood still as she walked over and leaned down, enclosed him in her fingers and stood up. The feel of her hand was pleasant and stimulating too.

“I don’t know where you came from, but I’m a lot bigger than you are,” she said with the same mocking haughty attitude that he knew so well, “I think we’ll find a private place to talk.”

She went and sat on the lawn at the highest point of the school gardens, close to the street. At last it was just him and her. He had come to the one place that even her boyfriend was not allowed to enter: an all girls school, and at tiny size too.

“So what are you, little one?” she asked.

“How do you mean?” asked Percy.

“I mean what sort of little folk are you a member of? I’ve never met any of your kind before.”

Percy was over the moon. She was talking to him without any recognition. She had hated and scorned the Percy she knew, and at best given him a brief passing compliment on that evening a few months ago. Yet she saw his shrunken self as a different person, someone she had never met, and apparently someone she WAS interested in. He might at least be able to hope for a giant kiss from her.

“I’m just a little boy,” he said.

“Well I’m a big girl,” said Ingrid, “And if I like the taste of you, I’m going to take you home secretly and have you for a special treat in my bedroom late tonight.”

She had said, ‘have you for a special treat.’ Those words did not guarantee an intention of Ingrid’s to eat him, but the phrase ‘if I like the taste of you’ increased the likelihood to around 90 per cent. She might have merely been thinking of licking him for half the night, which would be awe inspiring in itself, but he had to know if he had guessed right.

“Do you mean…?” he asked.

“You know I do,” she teased, arousing him beyond belief, “If you pass the tongue test, you’re going to be eaten whole. You’ll still be getting over the gulping and swallowing, when you’re almost down to my stomach.”

Percy remembered the way she had first helped herself to his lollies with mocking amusement. Now she was doing the same thing to a tiny boy, not knowing it was the owner of those very lollies. How he hoped that he did taste appealing to her tongue, which was clearer than ever to him now that she was holding him close to her face while talking to his tiny self. He could see glimpses of the most magnificent taste organ in history, as she continued speaking.

“Can we find out how I taste quickly then?” he asked.

“I imagine you’re even keener than me to find out,” she said, “Though I doubt you’re hoping for the same test result that I am.”

She would lose that bet, he thought. In any event, the test would give him at least one chance to be touched by her huge tongue.

“What will you do with me if I don’t taste nice?” he asked.

“You’d make a cute pet,” she said, “But let’s not think of that. It only takes a lick to find out, doesn’t it?”

With those wonderful words, Ingrid’s tongue took a respite from speaking and came out of her mouth slowly in front of him. She was deliberately doing it in slow motion, to draw out the suspense of the taste test. He was able to look at a protrusion which was longer and wider than his entire body. It had two sides, but no apparent separation in the middle, just a slight dip where the two sides met. The moist fleshy sparkling appearance of her tongue was the most beautiful thrilling sight he had ever laid eyes on. In mere seconds he would actually feel the touch of it.

She moved him closer and slid her tongue over him. It felt every bit as nice as he’d hoped and more so, particularly as its soft moist taste buds ran over his facial cheeks. Then her tongue retreated back into her mouth. He looked at her eyes and lips for any clue as to her assessment of him.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked.

“I’ll keep you guessing for a while,” she said.

Ingrid put him into her shirt pocket, under her jumper, got up and started walking to the station. She caught a train to Wahroonga, while he lifted himself a little and peeked out between the fibres of her woollen jumper at the scenery outside, and at Ingrid’s long lovely hands resting in her lap.

She alighted at Wahroonga, walked into the park, and sat down in an isolated part and took him from her pocket. She lifted him above her head, tilted it back, and opened her mouth wide and let him look in. He heard soft laughter and looked in at her laughing tongue. It was amazing.

Ingrid lowered him into her mouth a little, so that just his face touched her tongue, and then took him out.

“I did say supper, remember?” she said, “But at least you know I liked you. You’re the most delicious piece of meat I’ve ever tasted in my life. I’m going to gobble you all up at supper time and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can think about that for the next few hours.”

“I will,” he said politely, and then hoped he hadn’t given away his keenness to face the fate that she had planned for him.

“I’m glad to see that you’re nervous enough to point out the obvious,” she laughed, and put him back in her pocket.

Ingrid walked home and took him into her bedroom, unnoticed by her mother.

She let him watch her while she did her homework, and then placed him into a drawer.

“You can stay here, while I have dinner,” she said, “And think about the fact that I won’t enjoy it nearly as much as eating you.”

She closed the drawer and left him in darkness. He lay down on a folded item of clothing and waited for her return after dinner. He thought how pleasantly surprised he was. None of the girls who liked him in his earlier childhood years had had any real interest in eating him outside of his own dreams. Of all the people to be willing to do exactly what he wanted, it was the one girl who had openly disliked him at his full size. Ingrid was going to give him exactly what he’d always wanted, and was doing it with a forceful merciless amusement that made it all the more enjoyable and arousing. This was beyond his wildest hopes. He realised that being eaten in itself would have been thrilling enough, but Ingrid’s taunting enactment made it so much better. She was the one he had waited for all these years, since his six year old self had first dreamt of being eaten ten years ago. He admired what she was doing to him.

 

Ingrid opened the drawer and he saw that she had changed into a long night gown. She lifted him out of the drawer, put him on the pillow and climbed into bed beside him, with only the bright bedside table reading lamp illuminating them both.

“I’m going to sleep for a while. You can’t get away, so just make yourself comfortable,” she said.

“Could I climb onto your face?” he asked, “It … looks nice and soft.”

“If you like,” said Ingrid.

He climbed onto her chin, and said, “This is a bit hard, because of the bone,” shifted to her cheek, and said, “I might fall off here,” and then having intentionally established reasons for not being able to lie on the other parts of her face, he climbed onto her lower lip, which was roughly the width of his body’s length. 

“Are you comfortable now?” she sighed, moving the very lip he was resting on.

“This is just like a mattress to me,” he said, although it was not as deep as the width of his body.

Percy lay down and enjoyed the feel of her lower lip. It was like a permanent giant kiss, and he had tricked her into having no objection to it. Even her boyfriend would not have these experiences.

Ingrid dozed off and he soon felt her lips rising and falling as she breathed in her sleep. He enjoyed that for three hours, and then she stirred and awoke. Her hand lifted him off her lip and she sat up and yawned right in front of him, giving him another fine view of her mouth.

“Is that reading lamp bright enough for you, or do you want me to turn the bedroom light on?” she asked, “I want you to be able to see where you’re going.”

The audacity of the question was yet another of Ingrid’s thrilling taunts.

“It’s good enough for me,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m flattered,” she laughed, and he realised that she was making a pun on the thought of the experience of being eaten being good for him.

“You’ve really got an awesome sense of humour,” he said.

“Well you must have noticed that I’m beautiful,” she said.

“Yes, very,” said Percy.

“Maybe it will be good for you too,” she said, “But not as good as it will be for me.”

She had no idea. It would almost be worth telling her everything, or at least his identity, but he wanted to take no chances on anything changing her mind.

“I like your lips,” he said.

“I noticed,” she said, “You could have slept on my pillow.”

“You don’t mind?”

“If I did, I would have had no trouble stopping you… And I will have no trouble stopping you from ever going on a date with anyone. I’ll have the chance to go on and have a lengthy happy life, and you are going into my tummy … right now. Farewell, little boy.”

With those strangely stimulating ramifications still in his mind, he watched her tongue come out and lick him again and again. Being played with like a morsel of food by her beautiful mouth, without her having a care in the world was an experience that trivialised anything that had happened or not happened with Miss Newkin, Ilona, Ingrid Castlecove and the Wanderer Woman of Wahroonga.

“Well I’m ready to send you on your way,” she said at last, “But at the moment you’ll only taste of my own tongue water.”

She rubbed him on her bare shoulder a few times, and then reached for a cloth to wipe it. Then she opened her mouth wide in front of him. He looked inside in eager expectation. He could see into the top of a throat which would have no trouble gulping his tiny body down.

“Here comes the aeroplane,” she mused, and opened wide again and slid him onto her tongue.

He loved the combination of horizontal comfort and moist stimulation as he lay there for several minutes, until she suddenly angled her tongue. Within seconds he felt himself sliding into her throat. He could feel her throat all around him. This too was pleasant, but the blood was beginning to rush to his head.

Ingrid relieved his concern, by gulping several times, and he soon found himself in the dark tunnel of flesh that would curve its way down to her stomach. Then something occurred to him.

So intent on his fantasy was he, so pleasantly surprised at Ingrid’s willingness to fulfil it without even knowing it was he, that he had not even considered what would follow. Ingrid’s plan had been to digest him, which would have involved a lot of tingles, and then the absence of dating and other pleasures of life, just as she had detailed. 

Yet now his fantasy had been realised, and he could go on to enjoy those other things. Percy suddenly realised the obvious fact that his homing ring would be able to send him out of her stomach and back to his own home, without Ingrid even knowing. She would go the rest of her life thinking that she had eaten a mysterious tiny boy. Even if he met her again at his full size, she would not know him as the boy that she had eaten alive.

Yet he didn’t need to do it yet. He hadn’t reached the area of her stomach acids. He could enjoy just lying inside her for a while, celebrating the accomplishment of something that her boyfriend had no desire to emulate, nor any ability to prevent. He expected she would not even tell him about it. After some time, Percy twisted the ring and returned to the shrinking machine and then to full size.

He spent some days happily recalling the fact that he’d had the chance to be the cake and be eaten. He could go on, but with one drawback: it would not be with Ingrid. She still preferred the vandal to his full sized self, and he could not approach her at tiny size again without giving away the fact that she had not really eaten him. Ingrid had gratified his greatest urge, and he did not want to take away the fact that she might well (for all he knew) have gratified her own too. He would let her think she’d added him permanently to her stomach.

 

 

Percy Dale was visiting a childhood friend who had been an adult when he was just a boy, and telling her what had happened to him in the years that had since passed. He was now barely into his twenties. She was a psychiatrist, and he simply had to tell someone about his teenage experiences, especially about Ingrid. He told her of the remarkable and lasting impression that she had made on him, and then went on to detail what had happened next. She had made a visit to his own house to talk to him. She found his shrinking fantasy to be a particularly fascinating rarity of conditions.

"At school I was not at all happy. I did the work, and did a sufficiently satisfactory job of doing what the teachers expected of me. However, my life was empty. It lacked any spice and illusion. It was devoid of fun. I had my hobbies and things to do, but deep down I was far from happy.

"I used to get beaten about too. I wasn't the well trained fighter I am now, so it didn't take too many kids to overpower me. Playground punchings were something I could do little to avoid. Maybe people sensed that my heart was not really in the school and its activities. So they chose to make life miserable. After all, I would often just sit alone thinking or reading a book. That was what I liked to do. The majority of my playground peers involved themselves in lunchtime sporting games which did not interest me at all. So what? That was my business. Sometimes I think that perhaps I shouldn't have taken the name Sneaky Spy, which I took for sentimental reasons. A name like Black Sheep would demonstrate my strong belief in a person's right to differ from the majority in thought, actions and dialogue, should they so desire.

"When I was fourteen, my parents both died in a car accident, before I met Ingrid. I had never liked cars, but then I promised myself that I would be doubly devoted to never driving one. I had the options of staying with my uncle, being fostered, or staying with my grandparents. I picked the last option, and this had one drawback. I had to attend church with them every Sunday morning.

 

"One Friday morning, just after I finished school I was extremely excited. My grandparents were going away for an entire weekend. When I had finished school that day, I came home to an empty house. I had planned something big. I had saved enough money to go to the circus. I would steal out late at the end of the day, and ride my bike to St Ives showground and chain it up somewhere.

"It seemed harmless enough, and I would risk the roads for the excitement of it all. The circus of course was owned and supervised by a generous fellow named William Charters.

"It just seemed like a thing worth doing. So I rode all the way, and made it safely, even the long stretch along Mona Vale Road, St Ives.

"The show was magnificent. At the end of it all, I was captivated by the atmosphere of it. A circus had so many different people, each one with at least one peculiar trait that set them apart from everybody else. It wasn't like an army, where everybody does everything in time to a march, in the same uniform, with the same orders. It was a different lifestyle - not the one for me, but certainly one with friendly people. I became scared to go home and face school and everything else. So I didn't.

"Long after the crowds had all departed for their homes, I was still there. I had sat myself down on a fence to think. It was just near where most of the caravans were parked, but I knew I wouldn't make any noise. I wouldn't be a disturbance. I probably wouldn't even be noticed.

"I sat on the fence thinking 'I'm a Christian now. That makes life so much better, but it doesn't give me a trouble free life on earth. This world is so badly messed up, and I let it get to me particularly. I'll probably never see Ingrid again. For years it's been. Oh I just...' and I ended up crying quietly by myself. I did not think anyone would notice, but I felt so defeated by the fact that I seemed powerless to change things. I had had a spell of being a little outspoken at school, which had resulted in the counsellor telling me 'You won't beat the majority. Even a black sheep still has to walk with the flock.' That was shortly before I became a Christian at church.

"Anyway, there I was crying at the circus. Suddenly a hand fell gently on my shoulder, and a lady's voice said 'What's the matter, boy? It's very late.'

"It was Madam Swiftrix, the circus Illusionist. She had dark green straight hair, and a lot of it too. It helped her act, she later told me. She had dyed it once and kept it that colour. Her illusions and other tricks had impressed me on the stage, and there was something about her enigmatic image that seemed to remain when she was off the stage and out of the bright lights. She had an almost illusory way of being perceptive to people's moods, as I later discovered.

"She gave me a hug and took me into her caravan. In the language of a fourteen year old lad, I told this twenty two year old lady my various worries about life, and she was very understanding, like a mentor. In a short time she took a liking to me, and talked things over. I went back there whenever a show was on in the holidays and met her close group of friends within the circus. There was Tall Stella, the seven foot strongwoman with her powerful arms and light brown tints in her dark brown hair. There was Harlequin Harry and his teenage co-clown Junior Jester. Those two had colourful costumes. Harry's top and pants were of blue and white checked diamonds, and his belt, shoes and socks were black. His jacket had a checked pattern (horizontally) of red and green squares, which were a pleasing contrast to the rhombi all over his top and pants. Jester's clothes were similar. He had orange and black rhombi on his top and pants. His belt, socks and shoes were white, and the jacket was horizontally and vertically layered with pink and purple squares. They both had blond hair, and they both knew how to make people laugh, not only with their jokes, but also with their comic stunts. They made their acrobatic accidents look credibly genuine. They were competent acrobats to have falls like that; competent enough to take greater risks without falling if they wanted to.

"So the four of them were close friends, and they became my friends. I'd gotten older, and sneaking out was no longer necessary. I could see the show and see them afterwards. For a time, I wasn't worried about finding a girlfriend. Their friendship was good enough. I saw them three years in a row, and then came a girl called Donna.

Not at the circus obviously. I went to a summer holiday youth camp as a leader and got involved with the boats too. I ended up square dancing with Donna, but I hadn't exactly developed the gall that I have now, so I was rather shy. The dancing was on the first night, and how shy I was for the rest of the week. It was a waste of time for both of us. All I had to do was ask her if we could see each other after the camp. Still, I got my second chance about a year ago, and she's here now. However, I was so upset at the futility of my own shyness back then.

"The circus was back shortly afterwards, and I would turn eighteen that year. Having finished school immediately before those holidays, I decided to work at the circus for a year, travelling around the country with them, doing jobs in the circus in order to earn my keep. The job was easy to get, with four people putting in a recommendation for me. I learnt my knife throwing skills at the circus, and remembered everything that James Hamilton had taught me about gadgets and gimmicks. I thought of putting a razor blade in my watchband too. Making the tranquiliser dart guns was a major project at the time, and I was still learning what to do with the knife. I spent alternate nights of the week studying martial arts techniques, so that I could defend myself, enjoying the confidence as I moved from the most frightened boy in the school playground to the potential nemesis of any hardened criminal.

 

"It all went towards a dream that I had. I wanted to do something to change the way that the world was. I would be a desk clerk from nine until five, and then I would be something else, some sort of freelance adventurer who dared to interfere. I had started young and found plenty of help. Madam Swiftrix still took a special interest in watching me progress a bit more every now and then. She had an idea what I was working towards too, and we ended up discussing it.

"'Do you think all this is crazy?' I had asked her, 'Am I taking my childhood resentments of the past and my adolescent dispositions of the present too far? You tell me, Swiftrix, because you're one of the closest friends and best inspirations I ever had.'

"'Well Percy, do you remember our first meeting, and why you were so upset? If you want to try to do something about that now, then I admire your attitude. I cannot tell you whether or not anything will work, but be a happy adventurer if you like. Remember that we are always your friends, whatever you decide on.'

"Swiftrix's answer was ideal. I had planned to go ahead with it all anyway, although I was not completely sure how. Her support made it all the more a comfortable idea. At eighteen, I left the circus, almost nineteen actually, and came home to 66 Burnseid Street to recieve a nasty surprise. During my circus wandering days of the last year or so, I had been impossible to locate. So it was with some shock that I accepted the news that both of my grandparents had died of old age within a few months of each other, leaving this property and their vast fortune to their grandson, me.

"There was no point in wishing that things were any different and cursing the situation. It wasn't going to bring them back. I just told myself that people lose their families and friends sometimes, and the best thing to do was cope with it by concentrating on my plans for the future. I have accepted their deaths, but at the same time I have kept a lot of their things, in order to keep this house looking the way it did before they died. I had a considerable amount of work to do altering some of the rooms in this place. Changing the storage room - with its door halfway down the western upstairs hallway - was a demanding task, but now it makes an excellent Sneaky Spy laboratory.

"Occasionally I thought of Ingrid, but then I would realise that I had to get on with things. I didn't really think that I would inherit anything big from my grandparents, and I had no idea of the true extent of their wealth. It's made it a lot easier for me to involve myself in Sneaky Spy adventures. Having to sit at a desk from nine until five would have left me with little time to go out and cause trouble for the naughty ones.

"The first real adventure I ever had was overseas, shortly after I had settled down to a Sneaky Spy lifestyle. I decided to take my first trip overseas, and see parts of the world that particularly interested me. I looked through several of my grandfather's old travel films, some of which had been recorded years before I was born. Having manifested the idea with those viewings, I decided to go to the United States, Switzerland, Paris, Bermuda, the Bahamas, and good old England and Scotland of course.

"At this stage I was almost twenty, and I had worked out where to hide weaponry, and I had made several of my trick pens too. So I was able to smuggle my pieces of paraphernalia around the world with me, and it was in Scotland that the tranquiliser guns had their first chance to prove themselves. I ended up involved in a terrorist scheme, which I was able to thoroughly mess up, and I left several sleeping tranquilised hoods lying in wait for the local law enforcement officers to take them away. 

 

The Sneaky Spy had an adequate command of the English language, and he could usually prepare enough foreign vocabulary in order to survive when he made visits to various parts of the world. He would often make errors attempting to form literal translations of the words contained within a phrase, rather than availing himself of the extensive knowledge of foreign idiom. For example, Percy was greeted with laughter in Berlin when he used the sentence „Sie sind recht", to a friendly newfound acquaintance. „Sie", „sind", „recht" are indeed the translations of the words "You", "are", and "right" respectively. However, the correct German idiumatic phrase for "You are right" is „Sie haben recht," because, as Percy was to discover, it is not the case that German people are  right. Instead, they have  right.

Notwithstanding Percy's difficulties in correctly translating foreign idium, the Sneaky Spy had almost no difficulty at all in communicating with people of Mexico City during a brief holiday visit which he had chosen to make. 

In one sense, the  Sneaky Spy was always on holidays, because he had inherited a large sum of money, and other items of wealth, from his grandparents; and relished the fact that he would never need to spend his time shuffling paper for business firms amidst daily office politics, or building road constructions in an attempt to accentuate the traffic problems and safety hazards faced by the local councils.

In another sense, the Sneaky Spy was never on holidays, because he could never anticipate the moment when he would again be launched into an adventure requiring his physical and mental talents as well of the psychological value of his extraordinairily open mind. 

For the moment, however, he was able to relax at Henrico's, a respectable restaurant with a large stage for its many entertainers. The Sneaky Spy had faced many challenging dangers and mysteries in his adventurous lifetime, but he could muster neither the courage nor the particular sense of taste required, to navigate his way through an entire meal of nachos. The mountains of meat, cheese, pasta and tacos were as attractive a meal when eaten individually as they would be when combined in a mixture; but Percy Dale had a chronic fear of coming in close contact with the adhesive green mixture which can often be found in a nachos dish in the mexican restaurants one encounters in Australia. Consequently, it was a plateful of ordinairy tacos, including the accompanying mincemeat, which occupied the digestive organs of the Sneaky Spy, as his eyes and ears absorbed the music and dancing of the Louisiana Quintet, a group of performers who were currently engaged in Mexico City.

"Mm, this must be their best little number so far," thought the Sneaky Spy, "I never thought I could enjoy a Mexican cabaret act to the extent that I am able to savour this one."

On the other side of the room a man put down his cutlery, rose to his feet, removed his napkin and made his way out into the hall.

"I find it rather odd, that anybody could choose to leave at this point in the procedings," thought the Sneaky Spy, "It would appear that the other customers - who are many in 

number - are as captivated by the sound of this song as I am. I would loathe the thought of my being of sufficiently narrow mind as to expect everybody to sympathise with  my musical interests, but I cannot help but suspect that the man who has just departed might have a suspicious reason for leaving."

Percy followed the man out of the main room, and observed his destination: a telephone. Instinctively taking a small device from his pocket, Percy approached the man.

"Excuse me. I am in a terrible hurry. May I use this telephone before you?" said the Sneaky Spy.

"No you cannot!" snapped the other fellow, "I was here first! This is urgent for me also. Now go away!"

"No need to become aggressive," said the Sneaky Spy, as he seized the man by the lapels on the fellow's coat. To the frightened Mexican, it appeared that Percy was merely demonstrating a poor standard of conduct in the hallway of a respectable restaurant. However, the Mexican was not aware that the Sneaky Spy had concealed a tiny audio monitoring device between two of his fingers. When Percy seized the Mexican, he allowed the tiny transmitter - which contained a powerful miniature microphone - to slip from his fingers and land in the coat pocket of the disrupted recipient.

"Excuse me, Sir. I meant no harm. It's just that I was here before you," said the Mexican.

"Indeed you were," said the Sneaky Spy, releasing his captive, "So I will try the upstairs hallway, in search of another telephone."

Percy ascended the stairs, rounded the corner and checked to see that the upstairs hallway was empty. Then he took out a small earpiece from inside his pocket, and put it to his ear as he peeked around the corner and down at the Mexican. The subject of the Sneaky Spy's relentless scrutiny was indeed a flustered fellow, who removed - from the inner pocket of his coat - a photograph. The Sneaky Spy was unable to see clearly enough to identify the person who had been pictorially immortalised, but his earpiece relayed the low muttering of the Mexican in order to inform Percy of the reasons for the man's untimely departure from the main room.

"Hello...Carlos here. I have found the girl...yes...Yes she is positively the one in the photograph...Yes...I shall kill the damsel in distress."

There was a long pause. Percy's transmitter could not pick up the words spoken by the person at the other end of the line. The Sneaky Spy listened again.

"No, I cannot do it here, Senor...but....si, si, Senor. I will not fail you like the others."

The Mexican soon replaced the receiver, and Percy followed him out of the restaurant. The Mexican made his way to an apartment several blocks away and entered his own room, locking the door from inside.

The Sneaky Spy waited outside, listening to a series of clicks and rattles, after which the tread of footsteps preceded the unlocking and reopening of the door. Percy grabbed the man's neck and pushed him up against the side of the doorway's rectangular structure. The Sneaky Spy's left hand was as rigid as a carpenter's vice. The man nearly choked as Percy's right hand instinctively reached into the Mexican's inner pocket for the photograph which he had seen earlier. Failing to find it, the Sneaky Spy's right hand then seized the second item on the agenda of his several second search: a loaded automatic pistol. Percy tossed it into the room, forced the man down onto his own floor, closed and locked the door and then heaved the Mexican onto his feet.

"Alright, now who were you planning to use that on, Mister?"

"Nobody. It is protection from thugs, Senor."

"Nonsense! Who is your target? Who's the 'damsel in distress' to whom you referred?"

"Listen, I am not aware of what you mean."

"Look, I am not here to waste time repeating all of my questions," said the Sneaky Spy as he grabbed the man's tie and shirt collar at the front of his neck, "because I know that you're some sort of contract hitman, and I know you have a contract on a girl. Oh believe me, I know."

The Sneaky Spy's free hand removed the transmitter from Carlos' pocket.

"I know most of it already, because your lack of appreciation for the Louisiana Quintet prompted me to leave you this present during the scuffle which assisted with my earlier pretense of needing the telephone in a hurry. Now you had better tell me who it is that you are after. In fact, you can give me the photograph."

"No I cannot. Ha ha. I destroyed it, burnt it as soon as I got in. You don't think that I'd leave evidence like that lying around when I am planning a hit, do you, Senor?"

"No, of course you wouldn't, but you'll tell me who it is, or I'll send you across the room so fast that you'll -"

"Let him go and raise your hands, Senor!" grated a voice behind a gun. 

Percy obeyed.

"It's a good thing that I was in the bathroom at the time. Carlos can whisper, you know. You didn't fool him one little bit by following him here and hiding outside the door. You're not going to know anything else, but you'll do well to survive what I've got planned for you."

"Let me kill him now, Senor Skinn," said Carlos.

"No! It's too noisy, and too hard to get the body out unnoticed afterwards. I'll take care of him my way. You'd better get on with the job."

Carlos recovered his gun from the floor and departed, while Percy's captor kept a gun trained on his spine, while tying his hands firmly behind his back with his free hand. He then pushed the Sneaky Spy onto the bed, and sat down at a table to eat some dinner.

"You really believe in making your guests feel comfortable, don't you?" said the Sneaky Spy, rolling over on the bed to look at the man, which now positioned his tightly tied hands behind his back and therefore out of Senor Skinn's probing optic endowments.

"And who am I making comfortable right now? Are you a policeman or just some smart guy who cannot mind his own business?"
"My friends and not-so-friendly acquaintances have learnt to call me the Sneaky Spy" said Percy, "It's a thing my grandmother initiated several years ago actually."
"Well you won't be living to see any grandchildren of your own Senor Sneaky Spy. I am not going to leave living loose ends like you around to cause me trouble."

"So who is this damsel in distress?" asked Percy as he reached for the knife in the sheath concealed under his left sleeve. This process by which Percy Dale would free his hands from a rope binding had become habitual, and almost mechanical. His real concern was the identity of Carlos' victim.

"I shan't be telling you who, but she used to be a lover of mine, until she discovered my underworld hobbies. I did not know that she had found out until I discovered a letter on my bed stating that she had learned of my illegal enterprises and had no choice but to leave me. Now I must see to it that she not only leaves me but this world as well. It is my only way of preventing any further interference."

"Of course, I quite understand," laughed the Sneaky Spy as his knife silently sawed through the last bit of rope, "but I don't like the thought of dying in order to further the cause of your continuing to be a naughty Mexican gangster. So if you could be very understanding about this, I would really appreciate it."

Percy's knife shot toward the gun, knocking it off the table, as the Sneaky Spy jumped forwards from the bed and pushed the table into Skinn's chest, knocking him over. Percy leapt over the table, and his foot landed on Skinn's wrist before it could reach the fallen gun. He turned to question the man, only to see that Skinn's other hand had stabbed Skinn's own chest with a dart which undoubtedly contained a serum that would send Skinn into the realm of the sandman.

"Too late to ask me now and too late to stop it," mumbled Skinn, "By the time you're finished trying, I'll be awake and free again. You cannot save a damsel in distress."

 

* * * *

 

Percy turned all the clues over in his mind as he ran back towards the restaurant. He had not even wasted any time on tying up Skinn. A murder had to be prevented. He would worry about Skinn later.

"Well it must be one of the Louisiana Quintet," thought the Sneaky Spy, "because that naughty Carlos had his eye on the stage immediately before he got up and left. He must have identified one of the Quintet as the 'damsel in distress'. But which one?"

There was something about the significance of that expression. Why had the Mexican not used the words 'broad', 'blond', 'lady', 'girl', or 'senorita'?

Percy reached the restaurant to find that the evening's performance was over, and the members of the Quintet had each gone to their separate rooms upstairs. Carlos would be off to do the job, with a silencer. A professional hit man would enter the room from the outside window after climbing up the drainpipe.

Percy simply did not have the time to check the five rooms and prepare for an unexpected entrance in each of them.

He suddenly remembered something about the Louisiana Quintet. He ran to the reception desk and solicited the urgent undivided attention of one of the bellboys.

"Donna Scarlot, the red haired girl from the Quintet. Where is she?"

"You mean the one who dyed her hair red to match her name?"

"Her namesake sound-alike indeed. Which room is she staying in? You must tell me fast and lend me the spare key. It is a matter of life and death," said the Sneaky Spy, thrusting several rations of Mexican currency into the hand of the lad.

"Well... alright. Room 17 upstairs. I'll give you the key if you return it soon."

"Trust me," said Percy, taking the key and darting for the stairs. In little time, he had located room seventeen and opened the door with his borrowed key.

"Hello Donna, no time to explain things," said the Sneaky Spy as he ran to the window to see that he had guessed correctly. Carlos was ascending the drainpipe hoping that the pre-recorded music emanating from the restaurant's speakers would cover the noise which he made with his approach.

"Hello Carlos, are you and your Tommy gun doing a spot of nocturnal plumbing?" questioned the Sneaky Spy, as Carlos jumped down to the ground and ran out to the street. Percy descended the drainpipe at a dangerous pace and pursued Carlos until he was within the firing distance of Percy's tranquiliser dart gun. Then the Sneaky Spy took it from his pocket and fired it. 

He dragged the Mexican into Henrico's, telephoned the local constabulary, alerting them to the location of Senor Skinn, and then attempted to explain the matter to Donna Scarlot.

 

* * * *

 

"Senor Dale, you saved me, but how did you know I needed saving? I didn't know myself."

"Well I saved Carlos too actually. If he ever reforms, he'll be glad that he never got the chance to commit a murder, the consequences of which he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Anyway, to answer your question, I noticed that Carlos departed during the third song of your performance - which was my favourite of the three that I saw - so I followed him, planted a transmitter on his person, equipped with a listening device, overheard of his contract to kill a 'damsel in distress', followed him home, surprised him, questioned him, was interrupted by a surprise of my own, discovered that I had in fact neither surprised him nor his associate being your former lover Senor Skinn; and managed to escape and deduce that the damsel in distress was actually you."

"How?"

"Well it's that expression I heard. You're also a fashion model, aren't you? An American fashion model turned songstress. Quite an achievement."

"Yes, go on."

"And Carlos and Skinn are Mexicans. They actually confused me with their pronunciation. Their true description of you was that you were 'a damsel in dis dress'. The dress, of course, was the one you were wearing in the photograph which Carlos had used to identify you. It was probably something of a tribute to your photogenic appearance, but we'll never know now, because Carlos arranged its incendiary epitaph before I ever had a chance to retrieve it and caption the back of it with that persistently confusing phrase."

So it was that Donna Scarlot threw herself at the Sneaky Spy, and the Louisiana Quartet came into being as Donna left Mexico and the band. She would occasionally perform solo gigs in Australia.

* * * *

In the days ahead, the Sneaky Spy returned to Australia, and was soon involved in helping another girl in trouble. Her name was Karro, and she was an innocent suspect in a series of attacks on girls of her old school. 

In a brief brush with a police inspector who was investigating the case, the Sneaky Spy did not exactly endear himself to the man, but was able to clear Karro from further suspicion. The adventure is hardly worthy of mention here except for one thing. The last time he had been to that school, he had been somewhat smaller, and had been carried out in the pocket of Ingrid, while wondering whether or not she had decided to gobble him whole for her supper. Donna was attractive, but not nearly as tall as Ingrid, and for that matter shorter than Percy. 

She also had no desire to eat him, and that made her less desirable than Ingrid. Would he ever get her out of his system?

 

Percy put on a white suit, complete with yellow shirt and red tie. He dealt with his breakfast, and then walked to the end of his long driveway, until he came to the street. A brief walk concluded at Wahroonga Station, where he purchased a return train ticket to St Leonards. Percy Dale had every intention of enjoying himself that day, even if he had to create the fun himself. Such a responsibility was never a problem for Percy, a man who had never enjoyed any developments for which he had not been at least partly responsible. Percy was like that.

He sat in the train, staring at people; schoolchildren in standard uniforms, housewives no doubt on their way into the city to embark on a shopping spree, business people on their way into their offices, and there were others. Percy wondered what sort of an impression he conveyed to them all. He sat in the train, completely content with himself, wearing a suit unlike those worn by the business people, and a look of innocence that said "Yes, it's just another day at work for me too."

Which it wasn't. The train pulled into St Leonards, and Percy stepped out, and walked up the ramp, presenting his ticket for collection, and along the Pacific Highway to the bus stop, where he waited for and caught the bus to the Spit.

It was shortly after ten, when Percy stepped out of the bus to stare at the Spit. The first thing to catch his eye was the Seafood-77 Restaurant.

"I shall undoubtedly dine there for lunch," thought Percy.

He walked over to the waterside. The sunlight was magnificent. It shone brightly on the water, sparkling like freshly poured lemonade; and yet the temperature was perfectly comfortable. He took advantage of a nearby bathroom for a drink of water from the tap, and then walked across the Spit Bridge. Percy could walk faster than the average pedestrian with his own build, and yet he could do it in such a manner as to appear - and of course be - completely relaxed and natural. The shadow of a Sneaky Spy then proceeded to pass over a portion of Manly Road, until it followed some of the backstreets to Clontarf Park, which is located next to Clontarf Beach. He was able to walk his way through the bushlands, and remain only a metre away from the water of Middle Harbour as he did so. At this stage in the story, it was still merely an enjoyable exercise in the consumption of time. Time was there to be consumed. However, it was there to be consumed in such a way as to derive for oneself - and to provide for others - the maximum amount of possible pleasure.

He tried to imagine Donna Scarlot chasing him through these lovely bushes, but each time he only saw Ingrid. He hadn’t seen her for years, yet her relatively gigantic face, and particularly her eager gobbling mouth, remained a clear and unforgettable image in his mind. He could only recall the advice of someone who had once said: “Love the one you’re with.” In time he would come to realise that it wasn’t always the best advice, if even possible.

 

Ingrid had gobbled him alive, and that, combined with her unique size and beauty just magnified his infatuation with the memory of her as time went on.

Percy passed by Castle Rock, and then walked to the end of Grotto Point Reserve. The logical thing to do next was to walk back the way he had come, and sample some sustenance at the Seafood-77 Restaurant. As he made his way back to the Spit Bridge, he stared out across the water, and decided that anybody in a hurry would benefit from using some means of aquatic transportation (across the Harbour), rather than walking, or navigating the streets in a car.

The italicised orange letters of the Seafood-77 Restaurant were visible, even to the man with the least interest in restaurants, but he did feel like a large helping of prawns and some potato chips to accompany them.

As he entered the restaurant, his eye caught sight of a man in a grey tweed suit, seated at an otherwise empty table, playing a game of patience with his cards, while waiting for his meal to be served.

"The sort of man who has the unmitigated gall to sit in a restaurant playing cards," thought Percy, "is the sort of man I would most likely benefit from making acquaintance with."

Percy ordered prawns, chips and a bottle of lemonade. Then he wandered over and sat himself down opposite the solitary card player.

"Do you fancy a game of five hundred?"

"Certainly. Will you join me for lunch, Mister-?"

"Percy Dale, and you're from England."

"London, to be exact. Canton Algor's the name. Shall I keep everything above the black fours in the pack, and we'll play the double-sized version?"

"Good idea, Canton. Have you been waiting long for your order?"
"I can afford to wait a while. I've got today off. We're all rostered for a monthly day off at work. I live over in Ida Avenue. So I thought I would come down here. Normally I would prefer to go out on my day off, but I am rather curious to investigate something. You look like the sort of fellow who would be interested."

"How do you know that?"

"Well you are the first Australian I have met, since I moved here from London three years ago, who has enough friendliness and courage to offer his company to a complete stranger at a restaurant table."

Percy laughed softly.

"With all four beautiful queens turned up when I came in, I could hardly resist the temptation to try out the possibilities."

"You look like an Englishman yourself."

Percy had always hoped to meet a man who might mistake him for an Englishman.

"And when I take off this suit, I shall look like Tarzan, for the brief period that is taken up by my evening shower. Then I shall look like an Australian in a pair of pyjamas."

It was Canton Algor's turn to laugh. Percy chose the next moment as being the one to inquire about the something that Canton had chosen to investigate.

"So what is it then, that has captured your interest at the Spit?"

"Well it happened like this," began Canton, "I was cruising around Middle Harbour in my yacht, on Sunday afternoon, and I saw two men in a power boat, heading towards Clive Park. They were obviously in a hurry and hadn't planned on stopping. They passed my boat with great haste, and got a few yards in front, and then suddenly stopped. I caught them up again and noticed a large sack in their boat, and then they noticed me and took off again. It looked as though they stopped out in the middle of the water, and began to have a minor disagreement, during the course of which an object - probably the large sack - fell into the water.

"They waited there for a few seconds, and then disappeared into Clive Park, after mooring their boat just on the edge. It cannot have been a very valuable sackload of whatever it was, if they abandoned it after their brief tussle in the boat."

"Or alternatively, it could have been extremely valuable," said Percy, "Hence the tussle in the first place."

"But it's Thursday now, and I have asked a friend to watch the boat in Clive Park, and he hasn't seen anything remotely akin to movement from the boat all week."

"Is your friend hard at watch during the night as well?"
"No, but I don't think anyone would try to find something at the bottom of Middle Harbour at night. The sharks are rife, and there aren't any power boats to scare them away. Not only that, but they would be far better off to try looking for whatever they lost in the daytime."

"Can you remember where it was that the sack went down?"

"Near enough. Here's our lunch now."

Their meal was served, and then they continued to talk.

"Why don't we take your boat out this afternoon? I'll take a dive with a knife, and we needn't worry about the sharks. If you're sure of the location, and if there's anything down there, it won't escape the notice of my beady brights, even underwater."

A short time afterwards Percy and Canton were cruising around in the Algorithm.

"I like your choice of names for this craft. Remind me to tell you the one about the three rats in a tub sometime." 

"You'd better go below and put the wetsuit on."

"Ah yes, the wetsuit. Canton my friend, I shall tell you why your two characters began to misbehave in their boat on Sunday. They may well have been involved in certain aquatic misdemeanours, and they passed by your boat in a hurry. They thought that they had distanced themselves from you, and then the Algorithm  sped up and followed them. So they headed for Clive Park's tall timber. They might well have assumed - or at least considered - that you might have been a private investigator, or simply a threatening adventurer looking for his share in the takings of whatever wicked activity in which they may have been involved. Now why create any more attention for ourselves?"

"What do you mean?"

"A wetsuit is worn for a planned dive. It would look a bit obvious, to anybody who has chosen to enjoy the tranquillity of the Spit today. I will slip into a pair of shorts and a short sleeved shirt. I assume you have some down below. Then some sort of heavy metallic object shall accidentally fall over the side, like a metal boom, for instance. Naturally, I shall have to take my shirt off and go in after it. I can still strap the knife to my leg and go down prepared."

 

Canton Algor was beginning to see that Percy Dale was the sort of man who did things like this for fun, but who was he, and why did he happen to be at the Spit in the midst of certain unknown activity? Perhaps he had been there on Sunday too. Still, thought Canton, this man Percy had volunteered himself for the less appealing task of making the dive, so it was the least Canton could do to trust the man and play along.

Percy tried on a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. They fit adequately enough for his purpose, and so they proceeded to position the boom on the bow of the boat, where it would most likely roll off, should the driver happen to become a little reckless.

Canton then proceeded to become a little reckless. He spun the boat around in as narrow a circle as was best possible, until the boom surrendered to the forces of gravity, and circular momentum. There were two boats just near the Spit Bridge, but they looked less than likely to come very close. Percy put on an oxygen mask and Canton's breathing tank, and dived into the water. They had planned one further measure, while Canton was demonstrating his capability at creating simulated recklessness.

While Percy swam to the bottom of the Harbour, Canton lowered a rope from the bow of the Algorithm, and tied it to one of the railings. Percy would explain the reason to him later.

In the meantime, the Sneaky Spy found the boom soon enough, and left it where it was for convenience. He also found the sack and pulled at the neck. It was knotted and light enough to lift. He could swim to the surface with his load, and then come back for the boom. 

"It won't be much use to Santa Claus down at this depth," thought Percy, "and Rudolph may well be concerned that his electric snout not be short circuited in salt water. So I would do well to take this little prize up myself."

He took the sack by the neck and swam upwards, until he saw the rope, which dangled a metre into the water. He tied the neck of the sack to the rope and then returned to the bottom for the boom, and brought it up to the surface, where Canton helped him to take it back onto the boat. 

The rest was simple. They merely started up the boat and the sack was carried along below them, invisible to any other boat in the area. They found themselves a portion of Powder Hulk Bay which was apparantly devoid of anyone else at the time;  hauled the sack onto the deck, and took it below to be opened.

"Don't bother wrestling with a wet knot. I'll use my knife."

Percy had brought his two knives, strapped to left leg and forearm as usual, and it took him a few seconds to carve a semi circular slit into the bag of goodies, and then he knew that their efforts had been rewarded. Their curiosity had been satisfied. The man from England could not resist the desire to investigate anything suspicious; and Percy himself had been pondering the possibility of some activity the night before, and had chosen to take a relaxing trip to the Spit, with the idea of enjoying the tranquility that was, and welcoming any activity that came stumbing over the hills of happenstance. 

Percy and Canton stared into a collection of jewellery that could well be referred to as a temporarily sunken treasure. Percy smiled, then laughed.

"You know Canton, if we ever see those naughty ones again - and I have little doubt in my mind that they are naughty ones - it would be fun to see them try to explain away this priceless collection of trinkets."

They went back up on deck and noticed another yacht rapidly approaching them.

"I can go down and lock the stuff away if you like," said Canton.

"No don't. They're close enough to see and approaching fast enough to be interested in whatever they think we're doing. I'll talk to them, if they come too close."

The yacht came closer, and Percy noticed the name: King of the Waves. The yacht pulled up alongside them, and Percy saw one man at the wheel and no others in sight.

"I saw you lose your boom before. Is everything alright now?" called the man.

"Oh yes, I got it back up easily enough. It took me a while to find it though," returned the Sneaky Spy, "So what can we do for you?"

"Nothing really. I just came to see how things were. So I'll leave you to get on with your boating."

"Have a nice day."

They watched the King of the Waves pull out again, and then cruised around for a little while themselves, before leaving the yacht in Pearl Bay, and walking back to Canton's Ida Avenue residence.

"Is he still following us now that he's left his boat?" asked Canton, as they wandered through the Spit Reserve. Percy looked into the special reflecting surface of his watch.

"You'd better believe it Canton, but it won't do him an awful lot of good. We couldn't have left the trinkets on the boat. He'd have ransacked the Algorithm for certain if he really wanted to find something. I came out to the boat with a loaded backpack, and I am wearing it again now. The fact that it's full of valuables this time, and was full of a certain breathing tank last time - which we've left on the ship - is something about which the owner of the King of the Waves  can only speculate."

"And you actually think that he won't?" asked Canton.

"I actually think that he will. So make sure that he sees us make it to your house. If he is the man who took these jewels in the first place, then he may well try to burgle your house tonight. So I suggest that I sleep on the couch out in the back room."

(Percy had been given a brief tour of Canton's residence immediately prior to their afternoon of boating.)

"And we'd better be sure to leave the back door locked."

"No. You'd better be sure to leave it unlocked, so that the naughty one can gain easy access to your house. Not that it will help him at all, my good friend, because I shall sleep on the side of the room that the door opens away from, and I will have a fishing line connecting my left thumb and the door handle. He'd never spot that in the dark, but it will wake me up."

"Alright then... if you want to risk it."

"If you  want to risk it, Canton."

"It's the best idea we've got, and I see what you mean. If we tried to follow him now - he's seen us turning into my driveway, and now he's turned around - then he'd know we were up to something, but with your approach, he might well come to us."

"Canton, you're not even looking at your watch."

"But my front window reflects the affairs of most of Ida Avenue. Now why are you so well suited to this business, Percy Dale?"

"It's just become something of a habit, I suppose. With you, it seems to be more of a coincidence, a sequence of interesting events that brought out your more adventurous nature."

They stepped into the house and continued talking, as Canton went about the task of preparing some dinner.  

"I may as well confide," thought Percy, "If he did turn out to be one of the naughty ones, I can still rely on my usual talents and measures of defence. A successful Sneaky Spy need not always rely on the element of secrecy, especially when considering potential allies."

Percy told the man of some of his exploits and the people he had faced. The main thing he left out was his giantess vore fantasy and any mention of Ingrid. Yet he did bring up Donna and the adventure that introduced her to him.

They dealt with their dinner, and watched some television until the suitable hour of ten bade them move towards their respective sleeping positions. Percy had no concerns at all in his mind as he dropped off to sleep. With a knife under his pillow, and a warning signal tied to his finger, and a trap laid at the door with means of triggering the warning signal, Percy was absolutely certain that he could cope with any situation that would be likely to evolve from the presence of an uninvited guest.

But there weren't any.

Percy was disappointed when he woke up at seven. There had been no surprise guests. Why would a man who had the unwarranted indecency to follow a boat for a quarter of a mile - simply to ask after a recovered boom, when there was obvious evidence of an ulterior 

motive - simply fail to put in an illegal appearance at the house he had laboured to find?

"Oh Percival you prize idiot!" he thought to himself, "There's one obvious question I haven't asked yet, even though I shouldn't really need to ask it if Canton knows the answer."

He wandered into the kitchen, sat down to breakfast, and asked a pertinent question.

"Canton, I don't suppose the owner of the King of the Waves was one of the men in the power boat on Sunday."

"No. I would have told you if he was."

"I thought so, but I had to be sure. I take it that you have found no evidence of visitors last night either."

"None at all. The jewellery's still located in the cupboard where we left it."

Percy said nothing for a while. He knew that he had to Think It Through.

Which did not take long.

"Canton, it has only just dawned on me that this scenario would take a whole new turn if we had had a visitor last night."
"Why do you say that?"

"Well think about it. When did you see the two fellows in the boat?"

"Sunday afternoon."

"Exactly. Afternoon, while all good Spit people are out enjoying the sun. Why should the three naughty ones we've met so far deal with us any differently? Why come at night? They knew we would be in the house. They consider it their turn to strike in broad daylight. Give it a few hours, and you'll have your visitor. Those baddies cannot possibly want to let these goodies get away."

"But I will be at work."

"And I will be in the car with you, when you go, until we get to Mosman. Then I'll catch the bus back and spend this Friday morning reading books in your bedroom. Leave one of the windows closed but unlocked."

"That's a plan."

"A plan that works, Canton. If they're watching the house when we go, they'll still have to come back later, when most of Ida Avenue's residents have gone off to work. My plan can only fail if one thing happens."

"What's that?"

"I cannot find any of your books that I like enough to read."

Canton drove them to Mosman, and there was no sign of their being either watched or followed. The rest of the plan proceeded according to their arrangements. It was not until Percy was halfway through the fifth story in an old issue of "Mystery Magazine," that he heard the back room window sliding upwards.

"I do not need to see him," thought Percy, "I'll hear him wherever he goes. He will only be quiet enough to prevent the neighbours from hearing. He has obviously made sure that nobody saw him, and he is on his own, because I can only hear one set of footsteps. I wonder whether it's King of the Waves or one of the merry twosome."

Percy heard the man wandering into the room two doors down the hallway, presumably to start his search for the jewels. The room was a living room, which the man entered with as much silence as can be expected from any class D burglar. The room contained the locked cupboard with the jewels in it, but the man had only started to open an unlocked cupboard when the silent feet of the Spy brought Percy up behind him. The next thing he knew he was in the grip of the Sneaky Spy's hand, who held his neck firmly in a lock provided by Percy's own left arm.

"The King of the Waves, I presume," said Percy. 

 

A writer can soon grow tired of inventing suitably euphemistic ways in which to account for some of the phrases that have been used in reference to Percy Dale in situations such as the one detailed above. Suffice it to say that those words uttered by the boatman did not serve to lessen the strength of Percy's powerful neck lock.

"I can assure you that my parents went about it at the correct time," said Percy, "and I would like you to tell me why you are so keen to burgle this house."

The man may have delayed responding, but Percy increased the pressure on his neck immediately after he had asked his question.

"Well something of mine sort of went missing, and I thought the owner of this place might have stolen it."

"What did you lose?"

"It was a bag with all the trophies that I won at school in it, and-"

"And that just about confirms that you're one of the men I am looking for. Would it hit you like an atomic blast, if I told you that we already know what was in that bag? How did you come to lose it in Middle Harbour? How did you come to be in possession of such a lot of sparkling goodies in the first place? ... No answers, eh? Well you're definitely in it up to your neck, which I shall hurt considerably more, if you don't tell me where your two friends are."

"I can take you there. It's my house."

"And I can restrain a burglar in a public street with ease, and attract no attention at all! No way, your aquatic majesty. You can stay here, tied up with the rope left in my charge by the owner of this house, and I'll go to your house."

Percy tied the man tight, and swung a knife in front of his face, until he heard what he wanted.

"And it had better be the correct address, or I can come right back here and beat the brains out of you until I get it."

Percy wandered out into the street, and found his way to the Algorithm , and took the boat to Clive Park's own waterside. (Canton had given Percy the key at the beginning of the day, along with his house key. The cupboard was locked, and Percy would have to wait around if he wanted to see the jewels again. Besides, Canton had all the trust he needed, and had placed that trust in the Sneaky Spy).

According to the man he had tied up, who had confessed his name to be Roger Vermouth, Percy would find two houses in Coolawin Road, both of which were of significant importance. One was the address of Roger himself, and the other was a flat shared by the Merry Twosome, otherwise known as James Tyson and Chester Hargreaves.

Percy's only plan was to tell them both about what had happened to Roger, and ask them to explain where they acquired the jewels. This last piece of information was one of which Roger had denied any knowledge. Percy would have to take further measures in order to find out.

Roger knew something that Percy did not; and he also knew that he had to escape and find the jewels. Percy had tied him to a chair. So he swayed from side to side, until the chair began to rock, and he was able to use a crude form of motion in order to make his way to a reading lamp on the near side of the room. He got as close as he could, craned his neck forward and gripped the handle of the lamp in his teeth, turned his head, and dropped the lamp into his hands, with its cord dangling over his left shoulder.

Even with his hands tied behind his back, Roger could smash the lamp against the window if he threw it hard enough. No. It would not work. Better to try something else. He gripped the cord in his mouth and pulled the lamp up to his face, and then held the handle in his teeth until he had edged the chair far enough to yank the plug from the socket. Then he worked the plug end of the cord up into his teeth, spun his head like a pair of bolas, and eventually sent the lamp crashing through the closed window.

This brought the lady next door over to the broken window.

"I didn't think you would hear me if I shouted," said Roger, "Could you open the window and help me? It was a bad day for burglars, and my cousin left me in the place on my own, while he went off to work."

The lady kindly obliged, and Roger expressed his thanks, and then she left him to "call the police."

Which he did, but not for Canton's house. He tipped them off, that a burglar was going to break into the flat owned by the Merry Twosome; and then proceeded to look for a means of forcing the lock on the cupboard in Canton's living room.

However, Percy had no intention of going to the flat. He now knew exactly what had transpired over the last few days, and he was willing to bet the extra few minutes of time that he would save, that there would be a special dividend awaiting him in Roger's house. Percy arrived at the building by midday, and looked at the front windows.

"Curtains conveniently closed in the middle of the day. It's the lock on the front door that will have to avoid the melting effect of my special acid - filled fountain pen."

Which took care of the front door. Percy opened it with ease, and confirmed his suspicions. Tied to a pair of rocking chairs were James Tyson and Chester Hargreaves.

"You're going to have to answer one more question, fellows. Your dear Roger has already provided enough information for me to guess most of it, but what I want to know is where did the jewels come from?"

No answer.

"I can always do terrible things to you chaps, you know? However, I am sure Roger's tried that already."

At that point the three men heard a police siren. Percy did not know how it had been done. However, he was very quick on the uptake.

"So you might as well tell me, because it will make it easier for you, if I tell them."

So they told him. Percy wondered why there was still no knock on the door. So he opened the curtains, and saw three policemen peeping into the window of the flat next door, and guessed the rest. So Roger had escaped and put the police onto him at the flat. Roger would not have mentioned his own house, because he had left two prisoners tied up in it, two prisoners who had just confessed the full story in the hope that Percy might save them from at least Roger and possibly the police. Roger had sent the police to the same house to which he had sent Percy.

The Sneaky Spy closed the curtain and waited for the policemen to leave. With nobody there, and no evidence of breaking-and-entering, or any other suspicious behaviour, they could only conclude that they had wasted their time on a prank call.

By the time Percy got back to Canton's (having left Tyson and Hargreaves tied up), he found Roger to be nowhere in sight, and the cupboard was bare. Roger would not return to his own home. Nor would he be likely to stray too far from the scene of the crimes, with so many loose ends to be taken care of.

He would need a place where he could wait, until he had a chance to finish off the others, a place where nobody could get to him.

"The King of the Waves!" thought Percy, "a mobile place to hide out; but how will I convince the boys in blue after Roger's prank?"

He telephoned the police and explained the truth, and persuaded them to take a helicopter out over the harbour in search of a boat with the label King of the Waves in clear sky blue italics. It was then a routine matter of handing Tyson and Hargreaves over to the police, and amusing himself until Canton came home.

 

* * * *

 

"So you see, Canton, we were only dealing with petty thieves to begin with. They offered to include Roger in a job that they planned to pull on the houses of Laura Street, on the other side of the harbour. They were only in it for paltry gain, and Roger declined to involve himself. They happened to start with the house of an extremely wealthy man, who kept his finest trinkets on display instead of in a safe. 

"They took their power boat back across the Harbour to Clive Park, assumed that you were a private investigator when you followed them, and fought over what to do. The cookies were dropped into the teapot by accident, and they had to help recover them. However a power boat was far too conspicuous. So they needed a man with a yacht. 

"So again they made an offer to the proud and naughty owner of King of the Waves, who accepted it that time, asked them to drink to it, drugged their drinks, tied them up, and insisted that they tell him where to look. I began to suspect that the naughty ones were divided into captives and captor, when it occured to me that we only ever saw Roger.

"Hargreaves and Tyson had left the party on Sunday, and were obviously suffering from strong hangovers, brought about by Roger Vermouth. When he saw us right over the approximate area where the cookies fell in, he assumed the worst and bothered us, until it all backfired."

"So you made a happy ending for it all. I must say you're quick and resourceful."

"And you're rich."

"How's that?"
"The owner of the jewels has offered us a reward which I don't need, so it's yours. I think I shall catch the bus to North Sydney and go home on the train, but you must come and see me at 66 Burnseid Street sometime."

Canton Algor saw him to the front door, and the Sneaky Spy wandered down the driveway.

 

"By the way Canton," he called, "When you get that reward money, you'll notice that you have a broken window, a smashed globe in your reading lamp, a broken cupboard, and..."

 

Outrageous' Fortune was a man in his middle thirties. He had been born Omar Fortune, son of Renaldo Fortune and Ellsie Venada, who had been married for two years before they decided to have a child.

Omar had become interested in the thespian works of several writers, and had applied for a position in the local drama society at Turramurra. His efforts had met with failure, for - as

is that awfully demoralizing fate of many an aspiring victim of refusals and rejections - his talents were surpassed by his expectations of grandeur. Had Omar weathered the battles of life, he would have indeed found success, but he had succumbed to many a temptation and lacked the self-disciplinary skills of a Sneaky Spy. Omar Fortune had conceived his own nickname as a  means of denoting his extraordinary fetish for perpetrating purely incongruous acts of crime merely for the thrill of achieving his riotous objectives without facing apprehension by the local constabulary. Even as a teenager, Outrageous Fortune had broken into numerous schools, small stores, private houses, supervised building sites, television studios, and even the occasional police station. His methods of approaching these tasks included several variations on the practiced techniques of housebreaking, prowling, seduction of female opposition, infiltration and simply taking advantage of a chance to create the element of surprise by performing the unexpected.

When Omar Fortune turned thirty-five, he came to some conscious decisions: "I am now in the midst of my thirties. I am twenty-five years too old to expect further instalments of free pocket money and twenty-five years too young to apply for the pension. I have a steady stable career as a clerk at the Future Funds Association bank branch at Hornsby, and I should think about getting my life in order. It is time for me to begin looking for a wife. It is time for me to calm down. It is time for me to permanently suspend the giving of vent to the suggestions contained within my alter cognomen by continually performing the unprecedented.  It is indeed time for me to settle down to a more average and respectable existence and one that would never place me at risk of involving myself with those who - in between acts of corruption and acceptance of bribes - do faithfully seek to enforce this country's numerous pieces of statutory legislation. It is definitely high time that I turned over  a new leaf and proceeded to initiate all of the changes that I have just been contemplating, and I shall do so. I shall perform all of these changes instantaneously, including the disposal of my nickname. The last outrageous act of mine will be the overnight transition of rank and riotous lunatic Outrageous Fortune into respectable and reasonable family man Omar Fortune. It will happen, just like that, instantaneously... just as soon as I have made it all perfectly possible by knocking over my own bank and leaving New South Wales forever."

 

* * * *

 

Outrageous fortune walked into the branch at nine o'clock on a monday morning. The staff of the bank would take half an hour to prepare the bank as usual, before the time came when they would be required to open their doors and serve the customers.

"Our new security system was installed in the holidays you folks call your weekend," said the bank's manager, as  Omar put down his briefcase and contemplated the scene.

"All the more fun," he thought, "and they will never find me in Darwin. I will have an ample supply of money in order to buy myself a plastic surgery operation that will leave me looking even more handsome than I currently do, and totally unidentifiable. A new name, a new face, a new lifestyle, and a new bank balance in a new bank account."

"The new system," said the manager Harvey Perkins, "is electronic and controlled from our side of the desk. Should anyone attempt to hold up this bank, their efforts of armed robbery will be thwarted, when our protective screens go up in their faces. There is no way that anybody could walk out of this bank with our millions as long as you members of staff are fully aware of the need to press these buttons and dive for cover."

"Unless of course the robber was on this side of the screens," said Outrageous Fortune, removing a loaded pistol from his briefcase and grabbing the neck of a female teller beside him as he pointed the gun at her head.

"What are you doing, Omar?" said the manager.

"Well I am leaving. I am not going to work here anymore. I am going to resign. I am expecting quite a large sum of money for my termination pay, so hurry up and fetch it for me, will you, old boss? I need it immediately, because when I resign, I am going to commit a crime. I plan to break the law by leaving this establishment, hence ending my services as an employee of Future Funds Association; and I am going to do it in total disobedience of a basic principle of law related to contracts of employment. Give me all the money you have got, and be quick about it Perkins, because I am going to resign here and now, without giving you the expected two weeks notice!"

* * * *

 

Omar Fortune was soon on his way to Hornsby Station, having released the girl who worked as a teller for Future Funds Association. He ran onto the station and - having timed things perfectly and followed his preparations to the letter - he approached the driver's carriage of a train with his briefcase full of money, having concealed his weapon in the inner pocket of his jacket. He noticed a girl near the front of the train.

"Hello Miss," he said to the stranger, "Do you know that there's a beautiful lady who works in a bank just across the road from this station? I thought it unreasonable to expect her to walk quietly  over to this station and partake of a train trip with me, so I was hoping to find somebody like you."

He now had his pistol levelled at her chest as he dragged her into the carriage, forced open the door to the driver's cabin, pushed her to the right, pointed his gun at the driver and instructed him to dispense with the usual formality of spending five minutes at Hornsby Station before embarking on the remainder of the timetabled journey to the end of the line.

 

* * * *

 

The Sneaky Spy had enjoyed a good night's sleep on Sunday evening, which naturally concluded at around seven o'clock on Monday morning. He had enjoyed his breakfast and prepared for a visit to his cousin's farm up near Wyong. Janet Angstrom had not seen Percy Dale since the Sneaky Spy had brought Donna Scarlot up to her farm for a visit which had evolved into a romantic experience.  He had almost confided in his match making cousin at that point, who had been so set on arranging wedding bells for Percy and Donna. Yet he couldn’t tell anyone about Ingrid. How could he explain an infatuation on a cruel teenager being strangely magnified by that very cruelty.

Today his visit to Janet's would be merely to catch up on old times as well as to visit an old church tower in Donna's honour. It was in the church tower - after some discussion - that Percy had sung his ode to the girl for whom he had felt a strong attachment. 

After several slices of bacon and a complementary omelette, the Sneaky Spy walked to Wahroonga Station and caught the only North Shore line train scheduled for that morning, which would then continue on its way to Wyong, saving Percy the trouble of changing trains at Hornsby Station.

Percy had barely noticed the brief period at Waitara, during which the doors of the train had been opened to allow some passengers to alight, as well as admitting new travellers to the multitude of metal wheeled buses which formed the essential accompaniment to those twin pieces of iron which followed each other around for long distances - side by side - performing the function of a railway line.

Percy was also pleased at the apparently brief amount of time that he had to wait at the North Shore line's busiest of stations. It was not until the train had gone through the three succeeding stations without stopping, that Percy got up and began to make his way through the carriages, until he came to a doorway that was closed off, confining the passengers to the third carriage away from the driver. The train was a single decked set of carriages (one of the older models), and this meant that the doors could be opened manually by the passengers. The somewhat suspicious Sneaky Spy opened the doors and stretched his arms upwards. He had soon managed to successfully pull himself up onto the roof of the train, using the outer doorhandle and the window of the carriage as footholds. In no time at all, he was able to leap from one carriage to the next.

"This train's going faster than any normal express train," thought the Sneaky Spy to himself,
"I have a feeling that the driver of this one's a bit of a naughty boy, or someone else is."

The Sneaky Spy crawled along continually, avoiding the electrical contacts with the overhead wires, and was soon on top of the driver's carriage. He craned his head downwards, so that his eyes could see into the carriage. He saw the man with the gun pointed at the driver. The man held the pistol in his left hand, and held the girl's neck with his right.

"So the driver hadn't exactly volunteered himself for this accelerated venture into the realms beyond the expectations of the State Rail Authority," thought Percy to himself, "and the damsel must be in this one as a hostage, no less."

The train rocketed over a bridge, and Percy withdrew his head - for fear of the gunman looking upwards to see him - and stared down at the water below and beside the tracks.

"Now how can I stop this guy? He's hijacked the whole train just to make a trip of his own. But what on earth does he plan to do at the end of the line? Well that doesn't matter," thought the Sneaky Spy, "because I am not going to give him a chance to get that far. If he could break into the driver's cabin, then so can I, and my tranquiliser dart gun will be taking the trip as well."

Percy edged his way back to the side of the carriage and contemplated descending to the passengers' doorway unnoticed. Then he sensed and felt something which altered his plans.

"This train is slowing down!" thought the Sneaky Spy, who could never remember all of the suburbs between Hornsby and Wyong. He could only remember the major ones. He had no idea where he was, but it was obvious that the criminal's escape plan involved stopping between stations and soon.

 

* * * *

 

The train slowed to a grinding halt and Percy looked around at the bush below. He could not give away his position yet. He had to follow the man through the bushes until he had a chance to separate the fellow from his hostage: the girl.

Percy lay down flat on top of the train. He watched the gunman dragging the girl down to the tracks on the opposite line and leading her into the bushes. 

"Sorry about this Miss, but you'll be my hostage until I have dropped you off a long way from home."

"Who are you? Why are you holding me as hostage?" shrieked the young lady.

"Call me Outrageous Fortune, christened Omar, but I shall not be him for much longer. You will soon forget all about me, but for the moment you shall remain a necessary ingredient for this: my final act of illegal activity."

Percy waited until they were out of the way. When they had disappeared into the bushes, he jumped down to the doorway and spoke to the driver.

"I am not a policeman, but I plan to get him, for the girl's sake as well as that of the load of loot he appears to have acquired. I suggest you stop at the next station and send for the police."

Percy stole into the bushes and pursued the pair as closely as possible without revealing his position. He could hear them in the distance, but he had considerable difficulty in duplicating their speed without revealing his presence behind them. He came to an opening, in which the bushes parted to form a wide pathway which led to an open grassy plain.

He ran along the path and emerged into the plain, looking about for Outrageous Fortune and the girl. Then he heard a noise in the distance.

"A helicopter! I've got to stop him."

Percy ran towards the machine, spotting the girl in the open space behind the pilot's seat. Percy ran as fast as he could, and leaped onto the horizontal leg of the helicopter - on the left hand side - just as the Fortune hunter's method of escape rose several metres into the air, taking the Sneaky Spy along for the ride. A bullet shattered the window beside him as the Sneaky Spy made his way into the back and smiled reassuringly at the girl. He then made his way to the front seat and wrenched the gun from the hand of Omar Fortune, who put the machine on hover over the water above which it had flown. He needed two free hands to fight the Sneaky Spy.

Percy's right fist hammered into Fortune's stomach, as his left hand reached for the doorhandle beside the pilot's seat. He got the door open as his forehead avoided an attempted blow from the fist of Omar Fortune. Percy then touched one of the controls, successfully causing the helicopter to descend slowly towards the water below. Using all of his strength, he managed to shove his opponent towards the doorway, and eventually kicked Fortune out of the copter.

From her vantage point, the girl saw her captor landing in the river with a splash, as the Sneaky Spy - with both of his legs dangling out of the helicopter as a result of his struggle with Fortune - seized the controls and brought the helicopter high into the air, after which he returned it to the hover position, to allow himself a chance to improve his positioning within the huge helicopter. He flew it back to the closest station and made arrangements for the local embodiments of law and order to embark on a fishing trip involving a certain human element of game. He was about to depart with the reward money that Future Funds Association had, by telephone, instructed the police to donate to the Sneaky Spy after deducting it from the millions that Percy had recovered from the helicopter. He noticed a hand on his shoulder. It was that of the girl he had rescued.

"Hey don't leave yet. I want to thank you for saving my endangered life. I don't suppose you would like to - "

"As a matter of fact," said the Sneaky Spy, handing a large wad of currency to a girl who might well have completely ignored him, had he been single, shy and manly in the usual context of fellow train travellers; "I would like you to have this as compensation for your troubles. I have not the time for further post-adventure discussions, for I have already been delayed from visiting my cousin, who will no doubt be concerned about my tardy arrival. Don't worry about Omar Fortune. He's probably suffered the slings and arrows of confirmed incarceration, if they've fished his swimming body out of the river by now."

The Sneaky Spy stepped into a taxi and disappeared from her line of sight.

"That may have been one future family court fortune hunter who'll never claim half of my residential property as the prize for marital infidelity, or it may have been a pleasant and honourable girl, but these days I just don't have the time to find out," he thought, “… because she just isn’t Ingrid. How can I keep doing this to Donna?”

 

 

A conversation had begun, on another day.

"And that, dear Donna, is why I feel more than compelled to set out for Smiling Island with a swift Tasmanian yacht."

"And of course you're going to let me come with you when you start your search. Canton cannot make that trip, and I don't think he would give up his job to embark on a full-time career of Sneaky Spy adventures the way I did."

"No he wouldn't, and of course you're coming. You'll have to make certain that I do not become overly nostalgic."

Percy had read a newspaper story, which told of a ransom demand made to the parents of Ingrid Castlecove, who had been kidnapped recently. He had been able to contact Mr and Mrs Castlecove, who had told him that Ingrid had left a tape recorder switched on, because she had been about to record some music from the radio in bed the night she had been kidnapped by at least two men coming through her window in the moonlight. They had not seen the tape recorder, and had not given Ingrid a chance to turn the radio on. They had been completely unaware of the fact that they had been recorded making comments to each other:

"Is that stuff keeping her under?"

"Yes, let's get her to the plane, then to Smiling Island."

 

The ransom letter had read as follows:

"Mr & Mrs Castlecove, parents of Ingrid, we know that you have come into a lot of

money, and we know that you care for your only daughter. This is not the only 

kidnapping. There will be others, and the wealthy ones will be made to pay us.

You must await the next letter for an instruction about the terms of payment, and

you must not try to find your daughter, for she is being held as our prisoner in a 

location that you will never find. One more thing. We know her husband is a suspected gang leader. Do not inform him of this letter or anything pertaining to this matter. If we even remotely suspect that his illegal operations are being mounted against us, we’ll do something most illegal and most permanent to Ingrid.”

 

Percy did not care for the second letter. He had only told Donna that Ingrid was an old girlfriend. There seemed little point in hiding it. If anything, it might make Donna more prepared for the fact that Percy simply could not go on being with a pretty girl who wasn’t Ingrid.

Percy's mind was in an earlier time zone, an older decade, which contained some years prior to even the year during which Percy and Ingrid had met. 

Percy was straining every iota of his memory and intelligence in order to reconstruct an evening of his life, when Percy had been six years old. On this certain evening, Percy's grandfather had been showing the interested six year old a series of his travel films, one of which included some photograph slides of Smiling Island. Percy was told that the Island was uncharted, and he was told of its exact location, its appearance, and of its special secret, a certain item of information which could be used to the advantage of anybody who knew about it. 

Percy's grandfather had explored the island on his own. It was uninhabited, but the natives of other nearby islands referred to it as the Smiling Island, because of its structure. The bulk of the island's surface was covered by an enormous mountain with a network of large caves inside it. The most noticeable side of the island was a large rock structure jutting out towards the sea. It grew out from the mountain in the shape of an enormous and apparently happy lower lip. 

The island's name was only known to a small proportion of the population of the Southern Hemisphere. Now Percy would be required to unearth not one but two aspects of his past, in order to save the life of a girl who had been of significant importance even to his ten year old self.

It had to be the kidnappers' island.

"Well you didn't have me then, and she was very special to you when you were young. As well as being important for us to save the life of any kidnapped person, it will also be an opportunity for you to see her again."

"Yes Donna.... obviously she was special to me."

Percy and Donna collected those things which might well prove to be useful on a trip to Smiling Island, and packed their bags for a flight to Tasmania. There Percy hired a yacht, and two of the finest friends who ever became more than friends were soon on their way across the water, to plan an assault on the naughty ones of Smiling Island.

Percy felt a little uneasy about the island. Once it had been a relatively unknown piece of isolated land, and it was only visited by those special travellers who sought more than the average entertainment. Now it was owned - or at least occupied - by kidnappers, and they had taken a very special person from wherever she had been.

As usual, he would make these people understand the iniquity of their wicked ways. He would also do his level best to see that  Ingrid was back at home, leading a peaceful existence, and hopefully accompanying a man who would care for her in the way that such a special person would deserve to be cared for.

It was mid-afternoon. Sunday.

"Percy, why isn't Smiling Island found on any maps?"

"It's too small. Of course, it's big enough to temporarily house the naughty ones, but few people have noticed it. Most people haven't bothered to consider its name. I don't think that Ingrid's kidnappers are worried about security for the island. They'll feel quite confident that most of the world's population doesn't even know of the island's existence. The important factor arising from the limited size of the island is the difficulty we might have in sneaking onto it. Taking the yacht all the way to the island would be asking for trouble. They would spot that as soon as we got close. They do not need to place guards on the island, because they can see people coming, from the caves in the centre."

"Then how do we get there?"

"At night in diving suits, under their line of sight. They may well be all asleep at night, but if we leave the yacht three miles away, slip into diving suits, row out in the small rowboat for two and one half nautical miles, and then swim the rest of the way underwater, they'll never see anything that would give us away."

"Except an abandoned rowboat half a mile out from Smiling Island," said Donna.

"Not likely. As soon as we're in the water, I'm going to place an underwater timed charge just below that rowboat and sink it. The explosion won't be nearly as audible underwater. We'll leave the oars in the rowboat to be blown up with it."

"But didn't we rent that boat?"

"No. I planned all this at home. I bought the rowboat. We only rented the yacht. Now what were you doing all that time in Tasmania, while I was arranging our sea-going goodies?"

"Seeing some of the sights; and you've got a very clever plan, I must say."

"It's the best  I could do. Now where did you put our supplies of chocolate? I could do with a bite."

"Let's see. It's on the tip of my tongue."

"That, my dear Donna, is a most beautiful place to keep it."

Donna laughed, and went to find the chocolate. How she loved the Sneaky Spy. He was a master of his emotions. He could be as loving as ever to her, even with the life of an old and special friend in mortal danger,  and he could still combine his wit and amorous opinions into a moderately brilliant retort, a cleverly constructed compliment, made as an instant response to her use of a long established cliché.

Percy's ability to make fun and enjoyment from every single situation was almost superhuman. Certainly, she had seen him break down in the time that she had been with him. A new friend had died, and Percy had felt partly responsible; and yet he had refused to let the situation dominate and defeat him. A man had died, but Percy still had his values, his ideals, and his ability to go about turning fantasies into realities. Donna was not in the least bit concerned about the outcome of this adventure. She knew that Percy had thought of everything. Her questioning was only aimed at finding out his plans, not trying to spot their weaknesses. Donna never asked whether or not Percy would achieve his goals. She merely asked how.

Donna was also completely content with the thought of Percy and Ingrid seeing each other again. Percy's control over his own feelings would ensure his complete loyalty to Donna, and at the same time, Percy would do his best to help Ingrid as well. Donna had no desire to be seen as threatening towards Ingrid. If anything, she wanted to be the closest female friend that Ingrid ever had.

She found the chocolate, and returned to Percy, who was still at the wheel of the yacht.

"We'll easily make it by nightfall, and we'll have all the time that we need after that. Donna, can you put our sandshoes, some ropes, and our breathing tanks into the rowboat? Well wear our wetsuits and flippers on ourselves, as soon as we're ready to row."

"Why are we taking sandshoes?"

"We'll tie them to the breathing tanks. We'll need something to wear on that island after we have hidden our flippers in the bushes. I am going to take my knives as well. They'll be visible, but still better to have than to leave on this yacht."

There were no doubts about that. Percy's ability with a blade surpassed that of any surgeon, swordsman or butcher.

"How close are we to the three-mile limit? I can see an island in the distance now."

"That's the one, but you won't see its happy smile until we're about a mile away. We might as well drop our anchor and start rowing now."

Percy minimized the mobility of the yacht, and he and Donna slipped into their wetsuits, each in their own secluded part of the yacht. Percy strapped each of his battling blades to their respective positions, conveniently in their sheaths as usual. They both emerged, let the rowboat down into the water, dropped their flippers into it, climbed down a conveniently lowered rope with their sandshoes, and entered the rowboat. 

Percy did the rowing, stopping periodically to rest his arms, and as the small metal construction drew closer to Smiling Island, Percy and Donna could see the wide rock structure, shaped undeniably like a large lower lip, smiling at anybody who saw it.

"It's not half as pretty as your lower lip, but what is?"

"Ingrid's," hinted Donna, pretending to be serious.
"An equal contender, but that doesn't matter now. Pass me the shorter bits of rope."

 

Percy tied a circle of rope around his chest, and then knotted the laces of his sandshoes around the rope. He had stopped rowing, having estimated them to be a little more than half a mile from the island.

"I changed my mind," he said, "I would feel more comfortable having them there. I can look down and see that my footwear hasn't gone for a walk, or a swim all by itself."

Donna did the same, and they put on their flippers, and their breathing tanks and oxygen masks; and then it was time to get wet.

They entered the water quietly, and Percy reached into the boat for the oars, and the rest of the rope, and tied the oars securely to the boat. He had brought so much rope with him, that he was able to construct something akin to a spiderweb of rope, which allowed no possible chance of the oars escaping and floating around on the surface later. He placed a timed charge under the boat, and they swam away from it.

Then they witnessed a small explosion.

"It didn't even sound that loud or look that dramatic to us from this distance," said Donna, "There's no way that they'd have heard or seen it on the island."

"Which leaves us without a rowboat," said Percy with a smile.

"Oh my love, Percival, if this is how it is to end-"

"Let us face it with a smile."

"Just one kiss before we go. I'll have to hang on to my mask with one hand."

"Donna, we could have done that in the boat before we blew it up, don't you - mmm."

She had pulled his oxygen mask off.

"Just don't do it while we're down there. I don't want a kiss full of salt water."

They put on their masks again, and swam.

They surfaced periodically to check their direction, and to see how far they were from the island. When they were within a few metres of the island, they swam around, so that they would be able to climb out of the water with the cover of a group of trees. 

Percy took off his mask, and reached for Donna's, to do the same.

"Before we swim right in," he said, take your tank off, and your flippers, and the rope with the sandshoes. The idea is to tie the flippers to the tank, drop it to the bottom, and swim into shore with sandshoes in hands."

Donna did so, and Percy also followed his own instructions. They stepped out of the water, onto some rocks, and stopped behind the trees. Looking through them, they could see an area of boulders and rocks, which extended to the side of the main rock face, with the smiling lip on the right. There would be caves inside, and in one of them, the Secret of Smiling Island. Percy would probably use that later, but they had to find Ingrid first.

"Donna, how are you making out?"

"It was a long swim, but I'll cope."

"Come and look around this tree."

Donna stared at the rocks and the mountainous structure fifty metres ahead.

"Donna, think of that mountain as a head with a mouth. They can only see out of the opening above the lower lip, and out the back of the head. We're going to traverse those rocks, and then climb up the right hand side of the head,  until we can find a way to get inside without calling too much attention to ourselves."

The resourceful pair of adventurous lovers made their way across the rocks, taking the time to be sure that their feet did not make enough noise to give them away. The wetsuits were hardly the most comfortable items of clothing, but each of them knew that there was no alternative. They would be of no use to Ingrid , if she was told that they were dead in the ocean, because they had brought either the yacht or the rowboat right in close to the island and given themselves away.

They came to the mountain and began to climb, which was far from difficult, because of the many footholes, ledges, and the gradient of the mountain. There were strong winds blowing, and Donna felt extremely fortunate that her hair was still wet, because it would hang down behind her head, rather than blowing into her face. When they were a little over half way up the mountainside, Percy decided that they could do no worse than to go right to the top,  because they had not found any cave entrances to the mountain. 

When they arrived at the top, they had the liberty of turning in any direction and looking all over the island. The pair chose to take advantage of this privelege, and were afforded two pleasant surprises, which they would be able to use in different stages in the execution of Percy's plans to find and rescue Ingrid Castlecove. 

The first was  a cave entrance halfway down the opposite side of the mountain to the one that they had just ascended. 

The second was a helicopter on a narrow area of ground, which was separated from the edge of the island by a group of trees.

"I would never have seen that little craft from the place where we blew up and sunk the remains of our rowboat," said Donna.

"That need that to get off this island," said Percy, "and so do we."

Percy had been expecting some means of transportation to be provided by the naughty ones, but a helicopter was more than he would have needed. He knew enough about helicopters to fly them safely, and they would certainly be more useful than boats. Percy would take their machine from them and fly it far away, with himself and the girls inside it. If he never had the chance to return it to them, it would not concern him at all. If the kidnappers had chosen to avoid trouble, then they would have done so by not kidnapping Ingrid Castlecove... or anyone else.

This was an occasion when Percy Dale had made up his mind not to concern himself with any loose ends. If he did not manage to capture the naughty ones, then they would escape. His foremost concern was Ingrid. She had ruthlessly given him the greatest thrills of his life. He felt the strangest of all debts to her, but she was married, and he had Donna to think of. Yet he was fast realizing that staying with his second choice was not fair to her at all. As soon as the naughty ones had been dealt with, he would have to break up with her as gently as he could. There were two things that would make it just a little easier than it otherwise would. The first was that Donna had initiated their relationship by saying that she was used to changing boyfriends in her lifestyle and was not looking for anything permanent. The other was the fact that Ingrid was married now, he had finally learned, and Donna would not have to watch Percy dating her instead of Donna.

Donna had been a resourceful girl, and had managed to remain level-headed and collected so far. However, Percy knew that saving Ingrid from her abductors would not be the end of the story. There would be a few emotional scenes to be played out before the curtain fell over the Smiling Island stage for the very last time. 

Percy climbed down the mountain, rationally performing all of the mental gymnastics as he did so.  Percy rested just above the cave entrance, with Donna a little to his left. He leant back against the rock and listened. 

Not a sound.

He thought of the visual image of a giant lower lip forming Smiling Island’s structure. How ironically apt it was that he was climbing into such an island to rescue the woman whose lip he had once lain on and whose mouth he had once been pushed into … and swallowed. He could never tell Donna that. He had performed most of his Sneaky Spy activity without using the shrinking and teleportation machine. Though it would have kept him safe with its homing recall signal ring, its effect on his size made it almost impossible to defeat full sized opponents. It had occasionally been useful for stealth operations to learn locations and so on … an idea he had taken from the dream of the time he had hidden in adult teacher Jenny Winters’ handbag. Donna and Canton knew nothing of the machine.

He lowered his feet to the bottom of the entrance hole, and brought himself down into a squatting position. It was more of a narrow passage than a cave. Percy and Donna would be able to crawl along the passage, until they came to a cave, and then look for Ingrid. He helped Donna down to the hole, and then crouched down and led the way in. 

They spent two minutes crawling along the passage, finding their way purely by feeling which ways they could not go, and heading in the only other direction. They emerged from the passage into a large area, but there were no lights, not even a lamp. Percy had no doubt that the naughty ones would have a few kerosene lamps around somewhere. 

Within the mountain of Smiling Island, it was absolutely imperative that one be equipped with some sort of light. Percy stared across the large area. The one visible sight was that of the opening in the mountain; the large lower lip.

"I know we're in the main cave now," he whispered to Donna, "If I can get over to that lower lip, I can look out and see the scenes. It's better than nothing at all until we think of a better - blast!"

Percy's foot had found one of the kerosene lamps.

"Quick, Donna. Feel about for the passage, and hide. I don't know where I'll go, but the noise I made is bound to bring somebody in here soon."

There was no more time for anything else to happen, because Percy had no sooner given his instruction to hide, when he heard a click, and found himself staring into a flashlight held by a dark haired man on a sleeping bag on the floor. Percy looked into the other hand, and saw that the man had been wise enough to feel for his gun before turning his flashlight on.

"Hands up, Mister... Come over here, with yours up girlie, and stand next to your friend."

Dark Hair had soon awoken the other four of the island's present population of naughty ones, and Percy and Donna were soon bound tight. 

They fell asleep until midday.

When they were awoken, Percy noticed that both of his knives had been found and taken away from him during a search conducted by the naughty ones, while he and Donna had been unconscious. He did not feel as though he had been drugged. It was because he had been tired, that he had fallen asleep after they had tied him up.

He looked around the room and noticed a small dinner table, which had failed to catch his attention on the heat of the moment when the lights had been turned on him early that morning.

"You two may as well dine with me," said one of the men, who was presumed by Percy to be the leader, "and we'll find out who your relatives are, and how much they'll pay to get you both back alive."

"It's a bit hard to eat lunch like -"

"I know. I'll untie you now, but don't try anything adventurous. If I give the word, my men will come running in here with guns in their hands, and you two will be taken off my ransom list. I'm only feeding you because you're no use to us dead."

The three of them sat down to some plates of ham and lettuce, and the leader introduced himself to be Andrew Sterling. 

 

Towards the end of the meal, Andrew passed a half empty bottle of wine to Percy, who had been studying the walls of the cave and checking them off against his memories of his grandfather's travel footage, that he had seen when he was six years old.

"Pour yourself a drink. It's still quite fresh."

"Fresh enough to spike," returned the Sneaky Spy.

"I haven't spiked it," said Andrew, as Percy picked up the bottle with his hand closing over its open neck.

"Then let's see you drink some first," said Percy, and poured some of the wine into the other man's glass.

"Alright then, if I have to prove it to you I will, but you'll need all the drink you can get to stay fit and healthy."

Andrew Sterling drank the contents of his glass, and returned to his ham.

"Alright, I'll have some," said Percy, "but I want to finish the ham first. The tastes don't mix too well for my palate, Andrew .... err, Andrew."

Andrew had closed his eyes, and was definitely asleep in his chair. 

Percy turned to Donna and smiled.

"You know, my darling, it's not that I didn't trust Andrew. I just don't like drinking alcohol."

"But Percy, why would he spike his own wine and then drink it himself?"

"I spiked his wine. I brought a tiny sealed capsule with a powerful sleeping drug in it, and carried it inside my wetsuit along with my usual portable items of weaponery such as my knives, which they had already found and confiscated. I saw that half-empty bottle on the table when I woke up, and I just now managed to get the capsule out and break the seal without Sterling noticing. I had the capsule hidden in my hand when I picked up the bottle by the neck. The rest was easy. Now quickly, help me position the table over near that small crack in the cave wall."

They turned the table on its side, and dragged it over to Percy's designated spot. Then they stood behind it, and Percy put his right hand behind his back and felt about for the crack in the wall. He heard Andrew's criminal quartet approaching, as he slid his hand into the crack.

"They're coming to investigate the noise, Donna. Stay down behind the table until the fun's over."

Percy looked up as high as he could, and stared into the darkness at the top of the cave, and then lowered his gaze as Dark Hair and the other three entered the cave.

"What did you do to Andrew?"

Percy ignored the man's gun, and decided to answer the question in a manner which was suitable for four naughty ones.

"Well I told him that I did not like the taste of his wine. I think it sort of hurt his feelings. So he decided to sleep it off."

"Get rid of that table, or we'll move in and shoot around it."

Within the crack in the cave wall, Percy's hand had been wriggling around, until it found what it had been seeking. The hand then gave the item a tug, and Percy demonstrated an astounding degree of self discipline, by resisting the temptation to stare up at the nets which fell down onto the four men. 

He rapidly removed his hand and picked up the table with both hands, using it as a shield against any bullets which might yet emerge from the guns held by the four men in the nets.

"Stay behind the table, Donna, and I'll walk us around out of here."

He led the girl over to the lower lip, which led out to an easy climb down the mountain. Percy chose to remain. Ingrid still had to be found. He located a spare gun in another  cave, and issued an ultimatum.

"The last man with a gun still in his hand is a dead man."

They dropped their guns, and Donna collected them all, and then the two held the others at gunpoint.

"Okay Dark Hair, it was you who turned the flashlight on us last night. So I shall give you the first opportunity of answering my questions. Where is Ingrid Castlecove?"

"The joke's on you, Mister, because she's not here. Andrew ain't stupid. Do you reckon we'd make a ransom demand and then keep all our eggs in the one basket? No way. She's on another island due two nautical miles south east, and just as small and unnoticeable as this one."

"How much fuel's in that helicopter? No lies, or we can take it out just far enough to drop you lot in the ocean blue."

"It's fully loaded. We fill it up with spare fuel which we store on the island."

With that piece of knowledge in his possession, Percy had only one option. He found some rope and tied all of them up, including Andrew Sterling. He and Donna were soon in the helicopter flying in a south eastern direction, still in search of Ingrid Castlecove.

"How did you know about those nets?"

"The natives rigged up a clever mechanism decades ago, and my grandfather was very friendly when he met them in his travels. There aren't any natives on Smiling Island now, but they shared their secret with my grandfather, and said that it was always there if they needed to surprise any 'very bad men.'  The island has rarely been visited or explored. A documentary once mentioned its name, but it hasn't been charted on a map yet. The place where we were standing had no net above it. Island natives aren't even half as stupid and primitive as some people think they are."

"And the nets were so high up, and the lever so well hidden, that you would have to know about them, to be able to use them."

"That's the beauty of it. The naughty quintet have been using that island cave for a while now, and they never knew about it, because the nets were concealed up in the darker part of the cave. It was knowing about that special trap that convinced me we could pull this one off without any police involvement. The only thing is that we have been looking on the wrong island."

 

* * * *

 

Percy and Donna soon found the other island, and landed the helicopter in order to make a thorough search.

Which yielded nothing.

No Ingrid.

"I don't think we're going to find Ingrid here," said Percy at last, "I don't think she ever was here, or any of them. Dark Hair was just stalling for time."

"He wouldn't have dared. He cannot escape, and you can always go back and search Smiling Island's other caves for Ingrid."
"No Donna. What an idiot I have been! Dark Hair was expecting a routine visit from a sixth member of that collection of bad boys. That certain sixth member has probably freed them by now, and they will be leaving with whatever aquatic transportation number six used to get there."

"And Ingrid."

"And Ingrid indeed. Let's go, Donna."

 

If it were possible to assert that there are ways to pilot a helicopter around a deserted southern sea in a maniacal way, then this author would certainly affirm that Percy flew the helicopter back to Smiling Island like a maniac.

Their search of the other island had taken over an hour, and Percy was not at all surprised to find that there was no boat anywhere near the edge of Smiling Island now.

However, there was a boat heading back in the direction of Tasmania.

"That must be them. If there's anyone left  on the island, they cannot escape without a boat. The trouble is that we cannot go after their boat in this helicopter. They would only threaten to kill Ingrid if I don't back off. However, there is another way."

"Wait for them to get well past our boat, and then land the helicopter beside it, and follow them back to Tasmania. We can take some tranquiliser dart guns from our yacht, and surprise them when they dock in Hobart."

"Right you are, Donna."

Percy flew the helicopter down to Smiling Island, so that the escaping criminals would think that he planned so search Smiling Island. 

He waited twenty minutes and then flew the helicopter over to their own boat, landed beside it and left the helicopter resting on its pontoons.

Then they boarded their own boat and went in pursuit of the boat that Percy had seen from Smiling Island.

Percy had to stay so far behind that the naughty ones could not see Percy's yacht approaching. He did not want to take chances. They would assume that Percy was heading for Hobart. 

When Percy arrived with Donna at the closest dock in Hobart, they recognised a familiar boat.

"Empty," said Donna.

"Maybe not inside, though. You know, we might not need to go after them at all. Stand on their deck while I look inside, and hang onto the tranquiliser gun. I'll go below."

He found Ingrid bound and gagged in the cabin.

"Ingrid Castlecove, I presume. You won't believe what we've been doing to attempt to find you."

"You - You're - I remember you."

"Percy Dale at your service. My girlfriend's up on deck with a special gun. So the ones who took you away won't stand much of a chance now."

Pop!

Percy recognised the sound of his own hardware being fired, and ran up to the deck to use the tranquiliser gun he had retained in his hand.

They had to fish some of the dart-stricken felons out of the water, but nobody was hurt in the end. Percy and Donna removed their belongings from their hired yacht, which included Percy's well-hidden wallet, and Percy booked the three of them on a flight back to Sydney.

 

* * * *

 

Percy learned that Ingrid Castlecove was now living in a house of her own in Pymble. She had separated from her husband after he had graduated from teenage vandal to gangster and mob boss. His criminal operations had made her wealthy, but she had lost her attraction to someone. Some of the ruthlessness in herself in her teenage years had led her to remain attracted to a bad boy turned bad man, until he had shown his full capacity for it, and the fact that he didn’t seem to love her as much as his criminal operations. Learning of his affair with a younger girl had been the last straw.

The kidnappers eventually talked under interrogation, providing both Percy and Ingrid with their biggest shock. Her husband had decided that she knew too much, that she was too much of a risk, and that she would have to die. The ransom demands had been thrown on merely to divert suspicion from the real motive and hence from the real kidnapper. Ingrid and Percy both realised that his mission had been to rescue her not from mere kidnapping, but from attempted murder. Her husband’s address and imminent prison time was the final cog in the wheels of a divorce that had already begun in the family court.

 

She had telephoned her parents while they were waiting for the aeroplane and advised them that she was safe and on her way home. They were understanding of the fact that she would not wish to talk about the experience in the next few days, and entrusted her to Percy and Donna.

Donna took Percy aside, as soon as they reached Sydney Airport.

“You know I never made any long-term claims,” she said.

“I guess I didn’t either,” said Percy.

“Do you love her more than me?” asked Donna, “Be as honest as you can. I think we both saw this coming, even without recent events.”

“I love her… It’s that different.”

“Does she love you?”

“I doubt it.”

“Did she before?”

“She never even liked me. I was infatuated, and it’s way too complicated to explain, and unbelievable, but she did one great thing for me, for which I’ll always be incredibly grateful. She doesn’t even know she helped me in that way.”

“It’s as good a time as any to separate. It’d also make it easier for you to sort out your opportunities, or else your closure, with Ingrid.”

“Thank you,” he said, “It’s been nice.”

“For me also,” said Donna, and walked off to order a taxi.

 

* * * *

Ingrid’s food had all gone stale since the kidnapping. 

“I don’t feel like going out tonight for food,” she said, “I don’t suppose you could give me something to eat.”

The irony of that request was not lost on the Sneaky Spy, though Ingrid would never know … or would she? Would he ever feel that he could tell her that he had tricked her into temporarily eating him?

 

* * * *

Percy went to his oven and brought out some chicken, which he served on three plates.

 

Percy was alone at home, thinking of Ingrid.

Nothing had been said of their teenage years and the way that Ingrid had treated Percy. She certainly made no mention of the way that she had treated the ‘little boy’ she had found. He wondered how often the experience was recalled in her thoughts. He hoped that she still had fond memories of it, albeit from her own POV, not the boy’s as far as she could know.

One thing was certain. Ingrid seemed to have lost all her mocking hostility to him. He had saved her life. So it could be gratitude. His height had been named as a reason to reject him on the night that they had first met. Had her disillusionment with her homicidal ex-husband extended to a change in taste (no pun intended) in men?

Or had some women seen so many naked hulking male torsos on the large and small screens that they had been completely programmed to dismiss any slim short man? Almost any man was shorter than Ingrid, except for her boyfriend turned husband turned ex-husband.

At least she was treating him as a friend now, and keeping up contact.

Percy was strangely keener to know her thoughts about the boy she had eaten (the Percy that she had not recognised) than her thoughts about the man who had saved her. There had to be some way to find out. He began racking his brains for a way to raise the subject without giving away the fact that he had been that boy. How could he lead her into discussing it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the front door. He went to answer it.

"Good afternoon. I'm Sam Werrings, a friend of your grandfather's. I've been looking forward to meeting Percy Dale."

The visitor appeared to be in his early forties, and he wore a business suit of decades past, which instantly reminded Percy of his grandfather.

"Is that so?" said the Sneaky Spy, "You should come in for a snack. I've just had lunch, but I'll get you some biscuits and a drink of...."

"Tea?"

"By all means. I personally don't  enjoy the taste of that drink, but far be it from me to expect  universal conformity to my own drinking habits. I do keep a small supply of tea for the guests. Help yourself to an armchair."

"Thank you. It's a good idea having the living room as your front room. Not too far from the front door."

"Well I should think that the architect would agree with you," said Percy, who was now in extremely high spirits. In a few moments, the entry of the stranger had created an atmosphere which had cast Percy back into the treasured days of his childhood visits to Ordinairy Man Manor. 

He was thrilled to meet somebody who knew and respected his grandfather. At last he could talk about old times with a man who would share his nostalgic enthusiasm. Percy returned to the living room with a tray which contained a pot of tea, a cup and a plate of biscuits. He then went to a cabinet and opened a door which unfolded downwards on its horizontal hinges to form a bench with a mirror on it. In fact, every inner surface of the cabinet was actually a small mirror, as well as its floor and roof. 

From the cabinet, Percy removed a glass and a bottle of lemonade and poured himself a drink.

"So tell me how you knew Grandpa," said the Sneaky Spy.

"Well I was only eighteen when we first met. My parents had tossed me out of home because I  had performed rather badly in my final year of school. Instead of pulling myself together, I turned to alcohol, and slept on the grass in Wahroonga Park. I could not have continued to do that indefinitely, because my savings were rapidly depleting, so I was extremely fortunate to be found by your grandad one night. 

"He was on his way home from a late board meeting and had stopped to play snooker at a club for a few hours. He walked through the park after alighting at Wahroonga Station and stopped to look at the moonlit fountain. Then he noticed me. I was asleep on the nearby grass. He listened to the story of my troubles and offered me a job as well as some ready cash to survive on for a while. He never treated me as a favourite in the office, but he did take a personal interest in my well-being, and we became close and special friends. I often came here for visits. When the old boy died,  I had to get over it and continue my own life. However, I recently got to wondering where his relatives might be, and I eventually tracked down your location, once I learned that you had inherited this place."

Percy absorbed the story with a keen interest. It certainly reflected his grandfather's preoccupation with the welfare of others.

"Yes, well I miss him at least as much as anybody else. I miss both him and Grandma, but it's more than a phenomenal blessing to be able to live here. Som people have believed that I treasure this large house and its many areas of garden out of pure snobbery, but I care little for their opinions. It is certainly an attractive residence because of its size, design and appearance, but my most important reason for my attachment to Ordinairy Man Manor here is the house's ongoing provision of nostalgic memories of my childhood holiday visits to those two treasured relatives of mine."

"I don't think that it matters what anybody else thinks," said Sam, "You've got the right attitude, and you'd do your grandfather proud. I suppose you have been criticised for holding onto the old memories of the past as well."

"Sometimes, but that can only serve to increase my appreciation of company like yours," said the Sneaky Spy with a carefree smile.

"Well you're welcome to plenty of that. I should have introduced myself years ago, but I thought it would be assuming an awful lot to expect you to welcome a stranger purely because of his association with an old relative."

"So what prompted you to break the ice at last?" asked Percy.

"I needed cheering up. Things have changed for the worse in my opinion, at work, since your grandfather left. I just don't like the way they do things now, but I don't want to give up the job either. I'd be nothing without the career start that I got from your grandfather. Several things went wrong last week, including the fact that I did not get the payrise I have been desperately in need of, and so I thought of the good old days. I developed a desperate desire to find somebody who would share my respect for my original boss."

Percy wanted to give the man his complete trust and confidence. It would be like having his grandfather around to see how Percy's Sneaky Spy career had developed.

"Listen Sam, there's a lot that I should tell you. To many of this planet's naughty ones, I am remembered as the Sneaky Spy. It's something that my grandmother called me in jest a long time ago. I've inherited a lot of money as well as the house, and I've recently decided to keep a large sum of it in my safe in the study for emergencies. 

"Quite often I'm involved in an extraordinairy adventure, and I may not have time or a chance at night, to go to the bank. Anyway, I feel that I owe it to Grandpa to show you some of my more closely guarded secrets."
Percy gave Sam Werrings a tour of Ordinairy Man Manor. Its highlights included a visit to the bushes where Percy had first met Ingrid Castlecove, a look at the comic book collection, an explanation of the adventure souveneirs in the Sneaky Spy trophy room, and a revelation of the special gadgetry which was kept and developed in the Sneaky Spy's secret laboratory.

"You know, I have other friends who help me on my little jobs sometimes. You're welcome to think of yourself as part of the Sneaky Spy team."

"I certainly will. It sounds exciting from what you've shown and told me. Well I'd better be going. This is the second of the mere two days that make up a weekend, but I would like to have lunch with you at work tomorrow if you can make it."

"I'd like that too. I might even take a look at these declining office procedures which have been troubling you."

"I'm sure you know where to go. I'm still on the sixth floor at Hadricks."

"I do indeed. When shall I meet you?"

"Can you make it at midday?"
"That will be a pleasure."

 

* * * *

 

Percy went to sleep that evening with comfortable recollections of his meeting with Sam Werrings. He eagerly awaited the following day, a monday midday meal with an old friend of the family. As he was dozing off, he had an idea.

"That's it! Why, I've been wanting to do something to improve things for Sam. The best thing I could do is to surprise him. I'll go in an hour early and have a word to the personnel manager at Hadricks. With a little of my grandfather's influence reflected in my being his grandson, I may be able to turn the tides in Sam's favour. Anybody who has this sort of effect on me deserves a little intervening assistance."

 

* * * *

 

Percy arrived at the Hadricks personnel department by eleven o'clock, and spoke to the personnel manager.

"You would be young Percival...Dale, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if I could talk to you about a friend of mine, Sam Werrings. He works here."

"I cannot say that I know him, and I cannot reveal any confidential information to you either. You know the rules, I trust."

"That's fine. Actually, I wanted to mention some of his complaints about office procedures here. He doesn't know I'm here yet, but he told me about some rather disturbing trends in the course of employee relations among the staff members. When I was showing him around my house yesterday, he went into considerable detail, and I could only conclude that things were a lot better in Grandpa's days at this office, from what I was told. I was too young to come in here on my own at the time when he worked here as managing director."
Percy repeated the previous day's words that had been spoken by Sam Werrings, and was met with an unexpected reaction.

"But Percy, I've been here since the old boy's time, when I started out as a clerk in this personnel department, and our staff relationships have never been anything like those which you have just described. The higher graded employees have always been as helpful and understanding as could be expected towards their subordinates. In which department does Sam Werrings work?"
"Processing and filing."

"P.A.F? But we've nobody there by that name. We never have, as far as I know."

"But he said he worked there. He's the chap my grandfather employed when he was an eighteen year old boy with a hard life and no hope of a career at all."

"Just hold on a moment. I'll see if there's anything to confirm any of that on the files."

Percy waited for the personnel manager to return.

"There was a lad who was offered a job by your grandfather. He had no qualifications - not that you really needed many in those days - just a quick interview. However, his name wasn't Sam Werrings. Your grandfather was a clever man, and one day he uncovered this fellow's attempt to embezzle a terrific sum of company funds. The man went to prison. It was a ten year sentence. I'm afraid I cannot give you his name."

"You don't need to," said Percy, his mind racing with thoughts, "It's just a fortunate thing that I came early. Telephone the Hornsby Police Station and ask for an inspector, or otherwise just speak to anyone else you can get. Give them Grandpa's old address - which is now mine - and report a suspected robbery taking place there right now. Meanwhile, I had better race across town to be there."

Percy hurried to Town Hall Station and hoped that he would reach Ordinairy Man Manor in time.

"Oh what a sentimentally distracted idiot I have been," he thought, "allowing Werrings to soften me up with an artificial journey down memory lane. I showed him my safe, my comic collection, all of the easy ways into the house, and my secret weapons. Now the whole Dale residence is all ready for the looting, and I have been lured into the city, while he does the job. 

"Even if the police do grab him, I've got to cover up all of Ordinairy Man Manor's Sneaky Spy secrets, before the long arm lads start to see a little too much of my house's insides!"

Percy arrived in time to see the police escorting a handcuffed man to their car. Percy decided that it would no longer be wise to think of the man as a man. It was his visitor, the fellow who had called himself Sam Werrings.

"Thank you officers. I'm Percy Dale, the true owner of this property."

"Well you were right to expect a break-in. He had obviously forced a door, and he somehow got the safe open in the downstairs room which runs off the hallway. My partner and I found him with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Personally, I wonder why you keep it at home, but we will take care of your visitor for you."

"That's pleasing to know," said the Sneaky Spy.

"We had better check over the rest of the house with you," said the other policeman, and Percy had no option but to show them through again. Fortunately the burglary had not involved the unlocking or breakages of any of the doors leading to Percy's trophy room or his secret files. 

Percy managed to divert their attention to the study, while he locked the laboratory door with the spare key which he had hidden under the hallway carpet in front of the door.

"He must have used the key in my bedroom to get into the laboratory," thought Percy, "but why? What's of value in the laboratory? Oh yes, the safe job in the study. He used one of my metal dissolving solution pens from the laboratory in order to open the safe, and now he's cuffed to the police car doorhandle, or is he?"

The Sneaky Spy ran out to the street and saw that a hidden pen had obviously been used to pour metal dissolving solution onto the handcuff chain. Percy looked northward along Burnseid Street. There was no sign of his target. He then ran down to Eastern Road and saw the burglar running towards the Eastern Wahroonga end of its footpath. Percy sprinted after him. He was still handcuffed.

"He used a lot on the safe and still more on the chain. He can't have had any left for his handcuffs. I could only put so much into a special hollow pen," thought Percy, "So I should be able to capture him easily."

He ran past Braeside and Kintore Streets, and came within fifteen yards of his target.

"Give it up now, whoever you are!" he called.

He narrowed the gap between himself and his deceitful opponent.

"Not on your Sneaky life!" returned Sam's true self.

However, it was indeed difficult to run, while handcuffed, and the burglar was soon caught by the Sneaky Spy.

"You really had me taken in, didn't you, hook, line, sinker and lousy lies all in one, Mister Sam Werrings?"

"It wasn't all a lie. You can still remember him for giving me that job. I just hadn't expected my plan of revenge to backfire. I spent a long time in the lock-up looking forward to doing it. How did you find out anyway?"

"I actually planned a surprise ending to your non-existent problems at work, which saw me at Hadricks an hour earlier than we'd planned. You may not understand why, Mister, but I still wish you'd been on the level. Your version of things would have turned out for the very best."

Now he had his answer. Werrings had not shown the real version of himself to Percy. If Percy really wanted to know how Ingrid felt about the fact that she had eaten a tiny boy, there was only one way to find out. He would have to give her the chance to eat another.

 

Percy shrank himself to tiny size in the machine one day, and teleported himself into Ingrid’s garden. He walked over to the back patio of the house, which had an all-glass sliding door leading into the back room, where he now knew Ingrid liked to sit and read. He looked in and saw her. He had to make his discovery by her look accidental, not contrived.

He looked and noticed an umbrella beside him, leaning against the patio pillar. He managed to knock it off balance, even at his size, as umbrella points do not create the greatest stability for the object that they support. He gave a sudden movement as Ingrid looked up. She walked over to the door as he backed away, turned and ran. This would make it convincing.

He heard her footsteps gaining on him in mere seconds, and then felt and saw her hand grasp him from behind and lift him up.

“I haven’t seen a fellow your size since I was a teenager,” she said, “But that was at school, which is in the same suburb as this house. Let’s see if you’re any good.”

There was no mocking this time, no taunting or teasing, just a matter-of-fact detached interest in his potential as a meal, as Ingrid’s tongue came out and tasted him. She licked her lips in front of him in several directions, carried him to the kitchen and dropped him into a bowl of salad that she’d prepared for her lunch. She had none of her teenage desire to make fun of his plight, nor to draw it out, merely the original appreciation for the taste of him without the slightest concern for his welfare. She believed him to be a different victim from both the boy whose lollies she had taken and the tiny boy whom she had eaten.

“Help yourself while you can,” she said, “I’ll save you for last.”

“Thank you Mrs Giant,” he said.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to make conversation while you’re waiting for me to eat you as well.”

“Okay,” he said, and decided to find out what had intrigued him most, “Did you eat the other fellow my size too?”

“Yes. He was delicious.”

“Do you think of him much?”

“Often. He was the most enjoyable meal of my life, about to be equalled by you, I suppose,” she said, to his elation at being remembered all those years, “I’m glad you came here trespassing. I need something to cheer me up at the moment.”

“Are you going through something?” he asked, knowing full well that her husband’s activities had left her a lot of grief.

“Yes. I suppose it will sort itself out eventually.”

“I’m not trying to delay my fate, but you said we had time to chat. Would you like to talk it out with me? Maybe I can help.”

“Thank you. That would be nice,” said Ingrid, “The boy I dismissed with maximum ridicule when I was a teenager, when I had a preference for the kind of bad news that evolved into my homicidal ex-husband … well that boy has become the man who just saved me from being murdered by my ex-husband. I’m grateful, and there’s nothing to distract me from appreciating just how cute he is now. I know he still loves me. He dumped his girlfriend before we even got back from the rescue. He even loved me enough to risk his life to save me while he thought I was still married.”

“How did you meet?” asked Percy, keen to get her perspective on it without her being aware that she was telling it to Percy himself.

“I helped myself to some of his lollies,” she said, “Just like I’m helping myself to you. I always eat whatever I like, whenever I can, without sparing a thought for the feelings of the owner … or the feelings of the food in your case. If you do have any thoughts on my situation with my rescuer Percy, I’d welcome them, but my gratitude won’t cause me to spare you. I’ll eat you up soon and get on with my life, whether with Percy or someone else. For you, there’s only the rest of this luncheon and the ride across my tongue and down my throat to look forward to.”

“I guess I’ll be one of the INGRID-IENTS,” said Percy.

For the first time she smiled, only for a second.

“Percy’s a wonderful man, but if he resents my having rejected him in favour of continuing with the boy who eventually tried to kill me, he won’t be likely to ask me out soon.”

Percy wouldn’t tell her to take the first step. He could see that, behind Ingrid’s confident exterior was a woman who wanted to be courted. She didn’t want Percy’s forgiveness. She simply wanted him to understand that she had done what she thought best as a teenager, and that she would like to do what she thought best now as an adult, which this time would work in Percy’s favour. As soon as he had left her stomach and restored his size, he could think how to approach her. Now all he had to do was say something reassuring to her as tiny man, without giving the game away, and then prepare to be eaten again, which he knew he would certainly enjoy.

“From what you’ve told me, he probably doesn’t know you like him that way,” said Percy, “He’d be thinking that you’re just grateful for the rescue, but he doesn’t want to get himself hurt by another rejection.”

“Of course, that’s it!” she said, lifting the second last piece of lettuce into her mouth, “I’ll say something to compliment him.”

He remembered the night that her teenaged self had complimented his dress sense the year after their initial unpleasant encounters. It was then that Percy understood that Ingrid had liked him back then. She had appreciated his good looks, but scorned his soft personality. Now that she had come to like it, she would love him even more than she had ever loved her ex-husband, he hoped.

“I hope it works,” he said as she cleaned her mouth with a glass of water, “I’m sure it will. You’re a lovely woman, Mrs Giant.”

“Thank you, and call me Ingrid as you say goodbye. I think it’s time for you to go, and you’ve made me feel much better.”

Ingrid lifted him to her mouth and gave him a giant slow kiss.

“Oh Ingrid, thank YOU!” he said, having never forgotten how good the first gobbling felt, and having now been the recipient of a kiss from her amazing mouth too, “Goodbye darling, and here’s hoping that the quality of Percy is not drained.”

She now gave a delightful open mouthed laugh at his Shakespearian pun.

“That’s it. Away with you,” she said happily and licked the shrunken Sneaky Spy several times and then rubbed him on her neck and slid him into her mouth.

He enjoyed the gulping pressure of her adult mouth and slid down deep inside her, waited for a while and then teleported back to his machine and full size.

He soon heard a knock at the door, and went to see that it was Ingrid.

“Oh, don’t you look nice,” she said, “Could you stand some company?”

“I’d love it … if it’s you,” said Percy.

Returning the compliment would not give away his having been the tiny man who advised her, given that he was following her lead.

“Thank you,” said Ingrid.

“Would you like to sit in the garden?”

“I’d love to.”

They sat and talked for some time. Percy had no further doubts about her interest in him, and felt that an absence of words would spare them both from any awkward recollections of their teenage memories.

He eased his arm around her body slowly, and felt her move to do the same. Even sitting down her head was still a little higher than his. He lifted his finger and ran it over her lower lip. It was unlikely that this would lead her to guess that he had once lain on top of it at tiny size.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“It’s lovely.”

Percy had two sudden realisations, both of which left him elated. One was that he could visit her at tiny size whenever he liked and be mistaken for yet another tiny man and eaten, role playing out any story that fitted in with her movements at the time. He could also enjoy her love and romance at his full size, without her ever knowing that she was participating in both experiences with the same man every time.

The second realisation was the fact that, on the night of their first meeting, she had said, ‘You’re a little short to be attempting something so bold’ the first time he had touched her … only her hair. Yet at his tiny size, he had been given the opportunity, and for that matter no choice but to touch her tongue, her throat, and the passage down to her tummy.

Percy put both arms around Ingrid and moved towards her. She responded positively, and their lips pressed against each other’s. As he felt her tongue making its move to his mouth, he was constantly aroused at the recollections of his time with his whole shrunken anonymous body inside her mouth. With memories like that in his mind, and the chance to renew them periodically, he would always be aroused beyond belief whenever he thought about Ingrid at all.

 

Several nautical miles south of Tasmania are two islands, a few miles away from each other. One of these islands is uninhabited, and its name of Smiling Island is known only to its occasional visitors. It is so named, because of a rock structure jutting out like a large lower lip from the mountain at the centre of the island. The island was once inhabited by natives, although the last surviving tribesmen eventually migrated to the Tasmanian mainland several decades ago. The other island was originally known as Jungle Island, because - unlike Smiling Island, which was merely a mountain surrounded by small boulders - Jungle Island was richly blessed with plant life. Several things had been happening since Percy and Donna had rescued Ingrid from Smiling Island.

A collection of people - some of them scientists, others simply referred to as marine adventurers - had constructed a complex on the island, and effectively converted the entire island into a large headquarters for an organisation devoted to sea rescue. Most of these people were wealthy, and they were all interested and motivated. There were no major problems associated with the removal of large portions of plant life on Jungle Island; and work was also done on the outer reaches of the island in order to make it suitable for the production and construction of submarine housing areas and powerful surface boats. Within the complex, there were fifty staff members working various shifts in order to carry out the working operations of the organisation, which used the name of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. (Ocean Control Team Of Practicing Underwater Specialists).

There were supervisors making decisions, radio monitor officers monitoring transmissions from nearby ships and submarines, in case any of them required assistance; and crew members to operate the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. rescue boats and rescue submarines. O.C.T.O.P.U.S. would involve itself when necessary in deep sea and surface rescue, and did so merely because of the dedication and concern of its members. They also had a heliport, because a helicopter would occasionally be of valuable assistance in the rescuing of the victims of surface accidents.

Having heard of the existence of O.C.T.O.P.U.S., some people were fortunate to know that the island had been occupied by a special company of people. Smiling Island was ignored and seldom visited by anybody, if it was ever visited at all. O.C.T.O.P.U.S.'s founding members had chosen Jungle Island, because of the relative ease in adjusting it to suit their needs. Parts of the jungle remained, in order to retain some of the original beauty of the island, but the bulk of it was disposed of appropriately at the time of construction. Naturally the people of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. had the liberty to go ashore on occasions in a yacht, and the supplies were flown to Jungle Island by one of the helicopters.

The people of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. had saved and assisted many people. A child in a drifting rubber raft had been returned to his uncle's boat. The passengers of a sinking yacht had been rescued and flown to Tasmania; and there were many other times since the founding of O.C.T.O.P.U.S., when the organisation was involved in a rescue of some kind or another.

 

On one particular occasion, an Australian government naval exercise had gone badly wrong, and O.C.T.O.P.U.S. had surprised the commander of a navy rescue ship by going to the aid of the drowning naval officers before the naval commander had arrived on the scene with his rescue party. The fellow had swallowed his pride, spoken with his superiors, and rewarded O.C.T.O.P.U.S. with  a financial token of the navy's gratitude. This left O.C.T.O.P.U.S. on good terms with the navy, and the two units had kept the periodic contact with each other maintained on a regular basis.

Naturally there were times when disagreements between the executives of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. and the officers in the navy. The politics of naval wargames contained enough issues in themselves to stir up discontent. O.C.T.O.P.U.S. agents were concerned about the safety in the southern seas, and the navy cherished its official freedom to do as they pleased with their treasured battleships. However, the relationship between O.C.T.O.P.U.S. and the Australian Navy was by no means antagonistic, given the way it began. Both parties merely voiced their viewpoints and chose to continue about their business.

In addition to its fifty staff members directly involved with the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. rescue operations, the organisation had twenty-two marine biologists and several other scientists. These people were usually pursuing their own interests, but were supported by O.C.T.O.P.U.S. funds, in return for the sharing of any knowledge which they acquired as they worked. The people of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. made no special effort to maintain the relative secrecy of the organisation's existence and location; but at the same time, they did not endeavour to broadcast these facts to the people of the world either. Their primary concerns were research and rescue. Some of the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. people were married and working with their O.C.T.O.P.U.S. wives and husbands. Others were single and either disinterested in romance or content to forego its pleasures in order to remain on Jungle Island.

The complex had been designed in a logical manner, after considerable thought. In the centre of the concrete structure was a large tower, with transport walls for the room close to the top of its structure. They had the visual effect of windows, as well as the necessary requirement that they act as powerfully constructed walls. The open view room surrounded by these window walls was the highest room in the tower, and was equipped with radar, radio transmitters, monitoring devices, and powerful telescopes. It was in this tower that the monitoring was performed. The officials who made decisions and administered instructions were also working regularly in this monitoring room.

In the other parts of the complex there were laboratories, training and exercise rooms, sleeping quarters, eating areas, a swimming pool, a gymnasium, a tennis court, and various other miscellaneous concrete enclosures. O.C.T.O.P.U.S. employees were also Jungle Island residents, and the complex together with the remaining jungle areas of the large island were as tempting as many a popular holiday resort area.

O.C.T.O.P.U.S. was a peaceful organisation, and Jungle Island was a calm and tranquil place, where fights and tensions were seldom seen at all. So it was perfectly natural, that two special people would be suited to an exciting string of scenarios in the area monitored by O.C.T.O.P.U.S. One of these two was a girl who felt and immediate sense of disharmony, whenever a human being's innocent existence was threatened or disturbed. The other was a man who had a passion for finding and demolishing any threats or disturbances to the innocent existences of peaceful people. The girl's name was Ingrid Castlecove (also known as  Ingrid or Princess Jentil). The man had been christened Percy Dale, and called himself the Sneaky Spy.

 

*          *          *          *

 

One would think that any person who had been saved by an unselfish organisation such as O.C.T.O.P.U.S. would feel inclined to support that organisation; or would at least feel grateful and disinclined to hinder the activities of such an organisation.

(One would also think that people would stop electing unworthy governments into office; that salesmen would stop deceiving their customers; that schools would not employ careless demoralising teachers; that people would accept and respect each other; that drug merchants would develop a conscience about the abominable living conditions of their victims; that statutory bodies would not pass safety laws banning the use of fireworks while simultaneously condoning immorality; and that many further injustices would fail to vex and destroy the people of the world in which we live).

However, one's hopes are not always satisfied by future realities, and it is history that one certain sailor was far from grateful to the people of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. after they had preserved his life, which was threatened with possible extinction when he met with a certain aquatic misadventure.

The man was a member of Association B.L.A.D.E. (Blackmail, Larceny And Diabolical Exterminations), and he reported the incident to his superiors, with every aspiration to initiate a crime at the expense of his rescuers. It was soon after his rescue, that a meeting was held in the North Sydney headquarters of Association B.L.A.D.E. The place was actually the top floor of the Herch Tower building in Miller Street, two blocks north of Victoria Cross. Agent Number One of B.L.A.D.E. was addressing the members of the organisation.

"Our latest plan will provide a new means of operation for our organisation in the future. It was made possible by our own Agent Fourteen, who proved his true loyalty to this organisation, by reporting the location of an island headquarters to me. This headquarters is the base of operations for a privately owned sea rescue service known as O.C.T.O.P.U.S., which stands for Ocean Control Team Of Practicing Underwater Specialists, located on Jungle Island several nautical miles south of Tasmania. We are going to attack O.C.T.O.P.U.S., kill all of its staff members and scientists, and take over the running of O.C.T.O.P.U.S., pretending to be the staff members of that association. We will use their rescue equipment, and their identity in order to go to the apparent rescue of endangered aquatic vessels in the area.

"However, when we are welcomed aboard these vessels, it will not be so that we can save the lives of the occupants. On the contrary, they will all be eliminated, and their bodies will lie dead in the vessels, until we have taken anything of value from the vessels and then blown them up."

"Does that mean we'll leave loads of loot at Jungle Island?"

"Not at all. We'll transport it to other countries, and sell it, even if some of it needs to go out on the black market."

"When do we start all this?" questioned a member of B.L.A.D.E. known only to most of the others as Agent Fifteen.

"Sunday night," said Agent Number One, "which is just three short days away. I promise you, my loyal emissaries, that this operation will make our own past activities look like a string of barely successful attempts to steal the two cent coins in your nextdoor neighbours' piggybanks. That is why it is most important that we do not make any slip-ups that would throw away this opportunity and probably land some of us in graves and others in prison cells.

"Sunday night will be relaxed enough, even at an out-of-the-way place like Jungle Island. The members of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. will probably be taking it pretty light and easy. Well, most of them will anyway. I cannot say much for those ever vigilant men and women in the monitor tower. So they won't even be in the mood to respond to an unprecedented attack. We will be in a submarine, which will have a certain spot of trouble - not really, my friends - in an area close to Jungle Island. We will send out a message requesting immediate help. Naturally, the people of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. will come to our rescue in a submarine of their own. The rest is simple, but I will spell it out anyway, in order to be sure that you all know what to do. Agents Sixteen and Twenty-One will swim out and hide themselves somewhere underwater, when the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine approaches.

"We will eliminate the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. members who enter our ship to help us with a so-called radiation leak; and Agents Sixteen and Twenty-One will do the same to the people in the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine. It will be absolutely essential to kill them fast and as quietly as possible. Then they will sabotage the communications  link with Jungle Island. By sabotage, I mean turn it off. Don't destroy it. We may want to make good use of it later."

Agent Number One paused, and let his eyes wander, meeting those of his various agents. His men were trained to fight like men, and his women were trained to fight against men. He checked their glances of affirmation and comprehension, and then outlined some further details of his plan.

"Naturally, we will eventually leave all the dead O.C.T.O.P.U.S.agents in our own submarine, and blow it up. The trouble is that we will need their uniforms. So you will have to kill them in places where the blood won't be easily spotted on their clothes afterwards. Even their wetsuits have a special aquamarine colour scheme, similar to that of their uniforms."

"Question, Sir," said Agent Thirteen.

"Go ahead."

"More of a suggestion actually, Agent One. Wouldn't it make it a lot easier for us to get onto Jungle Island, if you keep the caption of the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine alive just long enough to have him tell the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. headquarters people that he's successfully saved us, and is now bringing his team home? Then we could wear their uniforms and waltz right in."

"A good suggestion, Agent Thirteen, but one that I myself rejected when I first thought of it. O.C.T.O.P.U.S. members are obviously noble, and the captain would sacrifice himself before betraying his friends. We will be returning long before monday sunrise anyway. When they see their own submarine arriving, and we step out of it in their uniforms in the dark, we'll have the chance to kill the whole lot of them, before we give too much away."

Another agent voiced a certain concern.

"Agent One, will we have to live on Jungle Island for a long time, once we've established ourselves as a phony crew of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. staff members?"

"Of course not! We couldn't keep that sort of a ruse forever. I've heard rumours that O.C.T.O.P.U.S. officials are on close terms with the Australian Navy! We will stay there long enough to sack a good many ships and submarines of all the wealth that they have. We will also be doing something about the world's population explosion, because not one witness will ever live, after we've done our work. We will do many things as O.C.T.O.P.U.S., my friends, but word will eventually get out, that people are not being saved anymore. They're not returning home with the stories of heroic efforts of the magnificent rescue team. Instead they are disappearing.

"By this time we will have accumulated enough wealth to justify a suitable retirement for us all, and then we will abandon Jungle Island, and disband. I won't need to keep tabs on you all after that. You will all have committed so many thefts and murders, that a breach of the old B.L.A.D.E. secrecy rules will bring about your own misfortune.... Well, out of your seats, folks. The gymnasium downstairs is empty, and you've all got some preliminary exercises to do, before we start things off on Saturday morning, with a trip to Jungle Island's surrounding waters. Oh, yes, people. We'll be there to stop anyone from doing unpleasant things to the people of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. - except us, of course!"

 

We do not have time in our tale,  to tell of the origin of the organisation known as B.L.A.D.E., to tell of its founding members, the process by which Agent Number One acquired his title to leadership, and the means by which the B.L.A.D.E. group acquired its many rescources and members. We will deem it wise, however, to say that B.L.A.D.E had sufficient resources to have its entire membership seated, or alternatively standing, at their posts within a submarine, en route from Tasmania to the designated nautical reference one nautical mile away from the Jungle Island headquarters of O.C.T.O.P.U.S.

This  was achieved by  ten-thirty on saturday morning. There were all of the B.L.A.D.E. members aboard, together with enough food provisions for four days if necessary; and there were also certain items of weaponery, which Agent Number One had decreed to be essential for the mission at hand, which was now referred to as Operation Octoplunder. Stage one of the operation included all tasks associated with gaining complete domination and control of Jungle Island, and Stage two comprised the ongoing developments associated with their use of O.C.T.O.P.U.S.'s identity and headquarters for the plunder and assassinations to follow in the coming months.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Sunday morning.

"Agent Five, how far are we from the designated area of attack?"

"Seven nautical miles, Agent Two."

Agent Number One was in a secluded office in the after section of the submarine.

"If Agent Two doesn't allow any mistakes," he thought to himself, "then we should be there by half past three. They'll know we're there, with their monitoring systems on Jungle Island, but they'll have no idea what we are doing, not even when we send out that phony distress call. That gullible innocent collection of octopi will never know how I engineered all of this activity."

Agent One was a man who had overridden his conscience many times, even as a child. He had done it so often, that his conscience now had no effect at all on the iniquitous life that he led. He had found several dedicated people to assist him in his life of crime, and he asked for no more than their obedience of his every instruction. He allowed them to question him, but his final decisions were absolute, and he would deal out a frightening death to anybody who did not adhere to them.

He lived for himself, and he had never been taught any other ways to live. Nobody had ever sat him down with a Bible and shown him the value of living under the rule of God. Not a soul had ever been able to convince the man that human beings had been ruinously running their lives their own way, instead of the Lord's way ('sinning') since that dreadful day when Adam and Eve disobeyed the Lord's command not to eat from the tree of knowledge. Agent Number One was unaware of the fact that, when a person dies, his soul goes either to heaven (a state of being with God) or to an eternal death.

He did not know that God had sent his own Son to die on a wooden cross, and rise up from that death, in order to make it possible for people on earth to enter into a relationship with their creator God. Having never attended a church, he had never heard any appeals to give his life over to God, to pray (talk to God), to try to do what is right, to read the Bible, to care about other people, and most of all, to accept the fact that Christ had died and risen in order to let Agent One in on two deals of greater value than any of B.L.A.D.E.'s ill-acquired wealth. Firstly, Agent One could have had a relationship with God, while he was on earth. (This is known as Christianity). Secondly, Agent One would be able to go to heaven, because his sins were forgiven and paid for through Jesus Christ's efforts on the cross. (This concept of going to heaven after one's death is known as eternal life).

Agent One had no knowledge of these matters. So he had chosen a lifestyle that brought him to the current situation in his life. In several hours time, he would be carrying out a horrifying operation. His mind was so poorly developed - despite his better than average intelligence - that he was actually prepared to overlook the deaths of many innocent people - deaths which he himself had ordained necessary - in order to accomplish nothing more valuable than his own acquisition of great wealth. Neither did Agent One care for the members of B.L.A.D.E. They were merely human tools to be used in the operations that he contrived for his own benefit. He had considered killing them too, but decided that there was no need for doing so. He would derive an inward sense of security in the future, from knowing that there were still certain people alive in the world who were as guilty as he was of the murders and robberies to be committed in Operation Octoplunder.

 

The B.L.A.D.E. submarine arrived at its destination on time, and the agents began to set the scene. Agents Sixteen and Twenty-One changed out of their ordinairy clothes, and into some suitable diving suits. They concealed upon their persons such things as knives, guns and flashlights. The other agents were fully armed and prepared to go into action. B.L.A.D.E. was soon ready to play absolute chaos with the staff of O.C.T.O.P.U.S.

As Agents Sixteen and Twenty-One left the submarine and began to make a reconnaissance of the surrounding undersea area, Agent Two began to operate the submarine's main communicator.

"Attention, anyone in the area! This is an emergency! This is a submarine at nautical reference AR733. We have an oil seepage, and an imminent radiation danger. We are carrying a valuable cargo and do not wish to abandon ship. We need urgent help."

"This is Commander Brian Markan of O.C.T.O.P.U.S., a sea rescue service very near you. Could you please confirm reference AR733 and repeat your problem?"

Six-thirty.

Night had fallen on the surface of the water. Agent two confirmed the reference, estimated the depth of the B.L.A.D.E. submarine, informed Markan of his estimation, and repeated the "problem" to the commander.

While this was going on, other B.L.A.D.E. agents were emptying oil into the water around the submarine, in order to at least give some temporary credibility to the story put forth by Agent Two, and others were positioning themselves in the submarine, in order to deliver a surprise attack.

"Alright then," said Markan, "We'll send out a submarine to look for you. I cannot tell you exactly when it will arrive there, but you're very close to our headquarters, which will cut down on our usual travelling time problems."

"Thank you, Commander. We'll look forward to seeing you. It's getting pretty dicey down here."

Twenty-five minutes later, the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine Squid arrived, and some divers swam out towards the B.L.A.D.E. submarine.

"They weren't kidding about that oil spill," thought one of the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. team to himself, as they approached the entry point of the B.L.A.D.E. submarine. When they reached the submarine, they were shown into the main control room, and rapidly introduced to Agent One, who used the name Andrew Cardon.

"So you have a radiation problem, as well as that oil leakage," said the Squid captain, eager to get on with the job.

"No we don't have any problems," said Agent Number One, retreating towards a pillar, "but you do."

At that moment, a number of weapons were displayed and used, and absolute havoc broke loose in the B.L.A.D.E. submarine main control room.

Guns were fired at faces, knives were inserted into necks, and it was not long before the B.L.A.D.E. attack force had murdered every O.C.T.O.P.U.S. member in the control room.

Meanwhile, Agents Sixteen and Twenty-One had gained successful entry to the Squid , having killed a man in order to keep their presence a secret for a little longer.

It took them ten minutes to discover that there were only three other men on board - apart from the ones that had gone across to the B.L.A.D.E. submarine - and another two minutes to make certain that there were now no living men on board other than themselves. Agents Sixteen and Twenty-one had been given specific instructions not to use the Squid communicator with which to contact the B.L.A.D.E. submarine.

"O.C.T.O.P.U.S. headquarters will most certainly be monitoring all transmissions from their own submarine," Agent One had said, "So you will just have to do the job and then wait for us to join you. We'll give you twenty minutes to finish them off, and when the rest of us get to your ship, it should not be too hard to get their uniforms off, and take their dead bodies into our own submarine."

This in effect was what happened. The men and women from B.L.A.D.E. had only to pile up the bodies in the main control room, and activate the several explosive timers that had already been positioned in various places around their own submarine. The timers left them half an hour to get away in the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine Squid , and their next objective was to seize the Jungle Island complex, rapidly but subtly.

The O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine soon found the only open place to dock on Jungle Island's outskirts, and Agent One knew that they could enter it and take the island with ease. O.C.T.O.P.U.S. had not communicated with the Squid. This was not a problem. O.C.T.O.P.U.S. headquarters would have assumed that all hands were required for the rescue of the B.L.A.D.E. submarine.

The Squid was docked, and an O.C.T.O.P.U.S. official was dutifully murdered, as B.L.A.D.E.'s agents began to step out of the submarine and into the docking bay. They moved across the island, and examined every accessible room in the entire complex, murdering their victims as they did so. When the carnage was completed, Agent One instructed his organisation to load the many corpses into a yacht, take it out to sea, and then have a helicopter ready to look after the B.L.A.D.E. agent driving the yacht.

"And when you're in the helicopter with the pilot, you can trigger the explosives that you will put in the yacht. I don't expect to see any corpses in this place after sunup."

 

*          *          *          *

 

The task was completed, and then the people from B.L.A.D.E. took it in turns to have some sleep, while the others got to know the general administration procedures required to run O.C.T.O.P.U.S. their own way. This took a few days, during which they only received one call for help. It was made from a yacht, which was subsequently destroyed, after it had proven to yield a few items of value. In death itself, the victims of B.L.A.D.E. found their own cremation.

 

*          *          *          *

 

In the months to follow, the substitute O.C.T.O.P.U.S. team were true to their goals in Brutal Larceny And Diabolical Exterminations. Many items of considerable value were obtained, stored, sold and forgotten. Even the illicit cash revenue was not stored on Jungle Island. It was paid into the bank accounts of the various B.L.A.D.E. agents, who grew richer as the number of deaths grew larger.

 

Percy Dale sat in the reception room of his own general medical practitioner, awaiting his tetanus injection. He remembered the time when his six year old self had been in hospital. The nurse had come to his bed and said "Come on up for a cuddle," and then plunged a syringe into his bottom.

"It's a good thing that I was so young that it only hurt my bottom, and not my sensitive feelings," he thought to himself, as he waited for his appointment.

"Percy Dale, the doctor's ready to see you now."

Percy waited for Doctor Lambauer to leave his previous patient to her own devices, and then entered the office, rolling up his sleeve as he did so.

"So how have you been since I saw you last?" questioned the doctor, and Percy wondered what to tell the man.

"Not bad at all. I still have parties at home, and ask the friends around. I'm still healthy and wealthy."

"And lazy, I suppose."

"Well at least it doesn't make me boring, living off my inheritance, that is."

"Ah yes, the Dale inheritance," said Doctor Lambauer, preparing his syringe, "Do you know anything about rubber plants?"

Percy thought quickly. He had never mentioned any interest in gardening to the doctor, primarily because he had never had any interest in gardening. Why should Doctor Lambauer ask him about rubber plants?

The answer came to Percy, and he spoke as the needle went into his arm.
"You really think that you've used that question to distract me from thinking about this syringe entering my arm, don't you?"

The doctor laughed. All of his old ideas about the doctor being in control had been shattered forever. Percy had surprised the doctor, by dominating a situation which potentially disfavoured him, or at least his left arm.

"Well I cannot cure your brain," said the doctor, grinning, "but you won't have to worry about tetanus for a long while now."

"Thanks doctor. I'll go and give your secretary some of that inheritance we were talking about."

"Yes, you do that for me," said the doctor, and opened the door to the reception.

Percy paid his consultation fee, and returned to his home, feeling the pain in his arm only at those times when he was thinking about it. At other times, he was thinking of some of his adventures, the ones when he had acquired large sums of money simply because he had been either unable to establish its true owners, or unable to return the money to certain deceased owners. There had also been times when either the authorities or the true owners of certain assets had offered large rewards to Percy, which he had graciously accepted. With this additional funding on top of his own considerable wealth, Percy had recently been able to offer money to certain members of his Sneaky Spy Society in return for their help on assignments.  Percy would never expect his friends to enter into any dangerous situations against their wills - although he had no objections to their entering into such situations voluntarily.  

Percy saw his own attitude to life reflected in Ingrid's mind. He naturally wanted to give Ingrid the fantasy world for which her heart had pined, namely the chance to be both Percy’s girlfriend and the secret gobbler of tiny men. To the Sneaky Spy, the world was in a bad state, and the only fact which was worse than that was the fact that most of the people in the world had no idea of its problems.  

She was waiting outside Percy's front door, when he reached his home.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Ingrid. Now that you're back in my life again, I'll have to get you a key to this place. I’ve got some news for you, but I don’t know how you’ll feel about the venu. A friend of mine wanted to have a holiday with a difference, and I told him about Smiling Island. He went out in a yacht from Tasmania, and that was the last I ever heard from him. A seaman like him could not lose his way in a boat, and he has not checked in at any port anywhere. I know something's up, Ingrid, because there have been several reports of boats disappearing without a trace in that area. I  suspect some sort of piracy, but I do not know how it would be possible. Those two islands are hardly the places for pirates to live, and a pirate ship could not do a lot of damage to some of the boats on the water these days."

"So what do you think then?"

"I thought you might like to go back there in a yacht with me and lay a trap for whoever - or whatever - is responsible for the disappearance of my friend. If Smiling Island is still unoccupied, we could use it as a base of operations. Otherwise, we could always pitch a secluded tent on Jungle Island."

"That's the one with all the trees, where the kidnappers pretended that they had taken me, isn't it?"

"That's right. I thought your familiarity with Smiling Island would help us a lot on the mission. Donna was the only other person from our group who has been there. Smiling Island would be better for us. The secret trap should be set up again, and I am the only person who knows about it."

"Well yes, I'll come," said Ingrid.

"Then we had better start organising things. I can arrange our transport and yacht rental as usual, and we will be taking the tranquiliser guns and other things of course."

 

Percy and Ingrid were on their way to Smiling Island, and Percy was wondering what might happen to them.

"You know Ingrid, there might just be some rather nasty people behind this, which means that I will have to be rather unpleasant myself. With a bit of luck we will be considered as their next victims, which gives me a chance to take control of the situation and find out what really happens out here."

 

The B.L.A.D.E. organisation would only strike when they received a call for help, because their presence as O.C.T.O.P.U.S. would be expected by their prospective victims. If Percy Dale was ever in a situation where help might be required, he usually considered that the best person to provide the necessary help was the Sneaky Spy himself. As it happened, Percy and Ingrid arrived at Smiling Island without any confrontations with B.L.A.D.E.

So they still had no idea of the existences of either O.C.T.O.P.U.S. or B.L.A.D.E.

The other thing that they were unaware of, was the fact that B.L.A.D.E. had detected their presence from a submerged O.C.T.O.P.U.S. submarine patrolling the area. It took Percy and Ingrid the rest of the day to move their supplies and some of their other equipment from the yacht to the cave in the centre of the Smiling Island mountain.

"We don't want any surprise visits tonight," said the Sneaky Spy, when they had settled down in the cave, "So I think we had better take a few precautionary deceptive measures. We'll pile some flat rocks up in the rough shapes of two human bodies in the centre of this cave, and then cover them with blankets. Meanwhile, we'll sleep in that corridor cave - the one I climbed through the night before we rescued you last time - and the chances of our being caught unawares in our sleep will be next to none."

Percy and Ingrid enjoyed tinned asparagus, tinned fruit, potato crinkle-cut chips and bars of chocolate.

"It's hardly the healthiest of diets, but it was the easiest  and tastiest meal I could think of to bring with us. It's only for a few days, and I don't want to be carrying out a full scale migration with portable gas stoves hanging from my arms."

"That's true, Percy. It might have become a bit heavy, mightn't it?"

"I think it would. Now let's find two portions of that narrow cave tunnel, and bed up for the night. I'll sleep closer to this main cave than you. That way I can be sure of being the first one to bump into any unexpected guests."

There certainly were some unexpected guests that night. From a periscope in the submarine, the agents of B.L.A.D.E. had watched every movement made by Percy and Ingrid, except those movements that were made inside the cave. At around ten-thirty that night, a rubber raft came to rest on the shores of Smiling Island, and out of it stepped two men and a girl. Their intentions were less than honourable, and their thoughts were less than pleasant, as they crossed the valley of rocks and climbed up to the lower lip rock structure which gave the island its name.

The cave was lit only partially, and this was owing to the light of the moon. When they noticed the two blanketed silhouettes in the centre of the cave, they stood beside them and fired their guns.

Percy had taken an additional precaution, and placed cushions on top of the rocks that he had piled up.

"After all," he had thought, "A bullet ricocheting off the edge of a hard rock would hardly convince any naughty ones that Ingrid and I had met with a sorry end."

 

The shots woke Percy, and he noticed that they had awoken Ingrid too.

"Be quiet," he whispered, "and stay right here. I'll slip out into the main cave unnoticed in the darker area, and see if I can use the secret of Smiling Island to trap them."

Percy took a tranquiliser dart gun with him, as he crawled through the corridor cave.

"They couldn't have been B.L.A.D.E. boys," said the girl, staring at the artificial blanket-covered corpses, "so it was a good thing we shot first and thought afterwards."

Percy entered the cave area without the slightest sound. If he used the tranquiliser dart gun on the moonlit trio, they would fire recklessly in all directions, and the fact that he had the advantage of being in the dark part of the cave would not be of any assistance to him. Four metres away was the small opening in the side of the cave. It was an eliptical cavity, large enough for a human arm to reach into and wriggle about for a certain lever. He had to make it without being seen or heard.

"Well they won't see me," he thought, "but I'll have to be extra careful to make sure that they don't hear me either."

He stepped noiselessly around the cave wall, until he found the area  where the cavity should have been. He couldn't see anything, except the moonlit would-be murderers several metres out in the centre of the main cave. He felt about for the hole in the rock wall, found it, and inserted his left hand. All of the time, his eyes were on his three visitors, and his right hand was gripping his tranquiliser dart gun.

"At last," he thought, "The Secret of Smiling Island is about to be put into play again. When those nets fall on them, the idiots will think we dropped them from that dark invisible realm at the top of the cave, so high up that they could not see it in the daytime. So, if they have still got their guns, they will shoot upwards. That will give me more than a fair chance to play absolute havoc with all three of them."

Percy weighed up everything carefully in his mind, planning his every move, and then moved the lever. True to his expectations were the reactions of the three gunpersons, as bullets flew from the fallen nets towards the area from which they had fallen. Percy dropped the closer man with a shot from his tranquiliser gun, and then dropped down to a lying position, as a bullet roared past his head.

"It's a good thing I got my hand out of that cavity in the wall before I started firing," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he fired at the other man, and watched the fellow fall to the ground. Now there was only the girl. Should he tranquiliser her too? No. He wanted immediate answers now, and to wait for the recovery and revival of all three visitors would take too long. There might have been other visitors waiting outside.

Percy took off his slippers and threw them across to another part of the room. He was unable to see it, but a hole appeared in one of his slippers, as he ran like a silent leopard towards the girl, and forced the gun from her hands.

"No need to hang onto it, lass. I don't think you've got many rounds left anyway, and now you're going to play show-and-tell on a grand scale."

The girl smiled at him. She was as tall as himself and as confident as any man could be. She had bright red hair, brown eyes and a smile of wicked defiance. It was not the sort of smile that would be offered in an attempt to seduce her captor.

In a strange sort of a way, Percy admired her principles of not playing up to him in the face of defeat, but she had put bullets into his cushions in honour of those principles, and she had probably killed others successfully in the past.

She had to be dealt with.

"Come on out, Ingrid. This place is swamped with sleeping fellows, well two of them anyway."

Ingrid Castlecove emerged from the corridor of solid rock, and noticed the results of Percy's unexpected surprises.

"You have been busy, Percy!"

"Yes Ingrid, meet the smiling fireball of Smiling Island. She's going to explain a few things to me, while you tie those two up tight."

Ingrid collected some rope from Percy's supplies, and left the two men in a rather helpless situation.

"The first question, sweet smiling fireball," began the Sneaky Spy sarcastically, "is why did you disturb our sleep? I used to be a chronic insomniac, and I still need the closest thing to silence when I go off to beddy-byes."

"Well we ... own this island, and you just invited yourselves in here..."

"And that warrants the death penalty? And you own a public island. Sorry fireball, but if you don't do better, you'll end up on my knee for a spanking."

"What are you doing here?" she snarled.

The pseudo-confident smile was no longer on her face, and she was becoming extremely frightened of the Sneaky Spy.

"You had better hurry up and answer that question yourself," said Percy to the smiling fireball.

The girl told Percy a series of stories, which he established were all lies, and about an hour later, she had no remaining options, but to tell him that an organisation was hiding out in a submarine, and looting other submarines, as well as the occasional surface vessel. Percy might have believed that this final tale was true and complete in itself, except that the girl had already proved herself to be a prolific liar.

"I believe you at last," said the Sneaky Spy, and observed the faint trace of relief in her eyes, "but I know from your other stories that there must be more to it than that. There's another island a few miles away from this one, and I am willing to bet that your friends hide their loot in its thick jungles. Am I right?"

The girl could only affirm his suspicions and hope that he was detected at the complex on Jungle Island.

"More or less," she said, "That island's called Jungle Island, obviously; and we've also got a magnificent boat docked on the shores of that island, but that's all you're going to know. I would sooner die than tell you where we hide things."

"Well it won't come to that, fireball, but you'll have to be tied up with those sea going clowns you brought in here with you."

Percy tied the girl up himself, and then took Ingrid down the mountain, and out into his own yacht. Suddenly he remembered a matter of vital importance.

"Ingrid, bring the torch. We'll have to go back and put those nets back the way they were. We may need to use them again. Then we'll go and take a nocturnal look at that Jungle Island."

The night was still young, and the two friends were soon on their way to the island.

"Percy, I cannot see where I'm going, but you don't want the yacht lights to give us away, do you?"

"No, but we'll still be able to see. We'll just use that beautiful white shape up there in the sky, and the lunar light which it so cordially sheds on our sweet souls. You know, the last time I approached one of these islands in a yacht at night, I went the last few miles by rowboat, and then stole onto Smiling Island. We should be able to go all the way by big boat this time. There's not much chance of anybody on Jungle Island seeing through its enormous plant life and noticing a boat in the dark."

"No, but they could hear it."

"Ingrid, they'll be asleep. I'm willing to bet that we have tied up their only nighttime operatives back at Smiling Island. The lady fireball had no other choice but to persist in lying, until I finally got the truth out of her. We didn't hear their boat. It was the shots that woke me up, and I am sure that they won't hear us, if I slow the motor down to minimum speed, when we're getting close."

Percy had no idea what he would soon be facing, and had underestimated the wisdom of Ingrid's concerns.

"Do you think that they killed that friend of yours?" she asked.

"It's almost certain, Ingrid. we can believe that story about the robbery operations around here. It's only the minor technical details that may hold surprises for us, but we'll deal with them all and put an end to this crazy piracy scenario."

Percy stared out at the water in front of the yacht, waiting for the island to come into view. At last he saw it, but he pondered its shape. There was something different about it, although he admitted to himself that anything would look different - to his daytime recollections of it - in the dark. His first visit to Jungle Island had been in a helicopter, in the daytime, and he had not absorbed the beauty of the scenery, because he had been busy searching for  Ingrid. Soon, they were close enough to slow the yacht down as planned, and to see the newest external appearance of Jungle Island. Percy stared at the moonlit scene, wondering what to make of it.

"Would you believe that, Ingrid? An entire building complex now exists on Jungle Island. This wicked organisation certainly has been rather active since I came here last."

"It's got submarine hangars, docking bays and everything. Even a tower in that structure."

"Do you think we should go and have a little look?"

"Why not? You're wearing your pen-torch and your other secret little pen-weapons, aren't you?"

"It's terrible to have to think of a torch as a weapon, isn't it? Still you're right. We'll need to see them, in order to give them a thumping hard time!"
"They'll see us, if we get too close to that tower. The lights are all on up there now."

"I should have listened to you about the dangers. We'll have to go around the outer edge of the island until we come to some of the jungle that's still left. Then we can sneak up close to one of the buildings, and hopefully get in undetected."

"I hope the people in the buildings are asleep," said Ingrid.

"So do I. Don't you find this a bit of a puzzle, though? Here's an enormous headquarters of some sort, built for a gang of criminals to work from, and nobody knows about it. Surely this would be the first place for Interpol or the Tasmanian police to examine."

"Maybe they don't know about this island. Nobody knew about Smiling Island, apart from your grandfather, before my kidnappers found it."

"Well that's true. But it still doesn't make any logical sense to me. I want to know what this place is really all about."

In circling around the island, they had to navigate their way around hangars and other obstacles. In each situation, they would assume that the obstacle was occupied by somebody, and moved quietly towards their destination. The last obstacle to be passed was the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. heliport. Percy stared at the letters O, C, T, O, P, U, and S on the side of a helicopter, and wondered what they could stand for. He got as far as Organisation Criminal Tactics when he decided not to worry about it, and soon he was walking hand in hand with Ingrid through the thick jungle.

"You can bet your sweet darling life that this is a grand scale operation, whatever it is," said the Sneaky Spy, "and the two of us will have to turn it upside down, if we're going to get to the bottom of all these missing cargo craft. I think your role in this should be confined to the yacht."

"Because of what happened to me last time?"

"Ingrid, they're killers."
"Then I would be better off with you close by me. I want to come with you, everywhere you go."

"I won't argue. It's your choice. I just hope I'm worthy of your confidence."

"Do you think those cargo craft were stolen to be used as part of this base?"

"No, I think the smiling fireball of Smiling Island was honest about the theft of the cargoes themselves. It's more likely that they have blown up the ships and submarines, so that they cannot be traced by the authorities. Well here's our building, my faithful damsel friend. One thing hasn't changed."

"What's that?"

"The tools I have to bring with me. Even on an island owned solely by one organisation, these people saw the need to build locks into their doors. Well it shouldn't take me too long to deal with one of those."

Ingrid stared in admiration, as Percy took the top off a yellow pen, and used the tool within to go to work on the lock.

It was one of the Sneaky Spy's traditional eccentricities, that he liked to tell stories while he fiddled with the locks of other people's property.

He made no exceptions on this occasion.

"Ingrid my dear, did you know that my teacher at school used to make a fuss about the way I held my pen? I don't know where he developed his interest in the matter, because my pen spent most of its time being passed to and from James Hamilton with secret messages rolled around its inner tube."

"You did that in class, right under the teacher's nose? You could have been caught," said Ingrid.

"Not at all. It's common for school students to share their stationery, and we only did the unrolling of the messages and reconstructions of the pen when the teacher was not looking directly at us. It was a clever means of note-passing, and it passed the time."

"I'm glad that I didn't go to your school."

"You're lucky you didn't. That teacher used to ask me to pretend that my pen was all sorts of things like a toothbrush, a shoe polishing brush and a comb, in order to show him how I cleaned my teeth, polished my shoes, combed my hair; and I would hate to remember what else. I'm surprised he found the time to teach the class anything."

Ingrid stifled a giggle.

"Are you going to oil the hinges?"

"No. This complex hasn't been here long enough for the doors in its buildings to become rusty. We'll just toddle on in and see what we can find."

They stepped into a corridor, and Ingrid put her arm around Percy's shoulders, and silently kissed his cheek.

"You were marvellous with that door, and very clever back at Smiling Island too. Thank you  for letting me come with you."

“It’s nothing.”

“No really, you’re even sweeter than a jelly bean.”

He would never have a better opportunity to find out whether or not Ingrid would have eaten him the other morning, if she had known who he was. The question had stimulated him for days.

“That could be risky,” he said.

“Why?” asked Ingrid.

“Pretty girls eat jellybeans.”

“Are you worried that I might eat you?”

“Would you?”

 

 “Well you’re too big,” she said.

“But you ate my lollies that night we met, and now I’m glad you did. You see I was hoping that they’d win you over.”

“Like I said, you are so sweet, Percy.”

“But would you eat me if I was small enough, like a jelly bean?” he asked.

“You keep making it hard to decide,” said Ingrid.

“Really?”

He thought it unlikely that she would ever bring up the ‘two’ tiny ‘fellows’ she believed that she had eaten.

“Well if you were perhaps a little bigger than a jelly bean, but still small enough to swallow, you might be rather enjoyable to eat, don’t you think?”

“Would you really do that?”

“I guess I might. I think it would depend on whether you tasted nice or not.”

“You’re full of surprises, Ingrid. It does make you more interesting than any other woman I’ve known.”

"Well thank you. In the meantime, you’ve got me thinking. I'd like to eat something."

"Fine. I'll just slip into the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. chef's room, and see what he can rustle up for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Let's try this large room. It's the first one with two doorways that we have come to. There must be something important in there."

"Maybe we'll find some food."

"Look Ingrid, I would accuse you of being crazy, but that might make me a hypocrite."

Ingrid smiled, and waited for Percy to open the unlocked door.

"How did you know that both doorways were for the same room?"

"Easy, my lady. They have the same room number on them."

"Oh yes. That makes it pretty hard to go wrong with a rough guess."

They entered the room, and Percy switched on his pen-torch. Its  light fell upon what seemed to be a science laboratory. There were open books, fallen pencils, test tubes, beakers and Bunsen burners, not to mention the occasional microscope. Percy looked at one of the open books.

"Ingrid, I don't understand all of this, but why would a scientist stop writing an important set of notes in the middle of a sentence?"

They pondered about that one and closely examined the room for any helpful clues. Percy looked at the books again, and at everything else.

"Dust, that's what so weirdly uncomfortable. This room hasn't been used for months, and yet the equipment is all scattered across the tables as if the scientists had dropped everything because of an emergency today, and not had the time to come back and clean up."

"Yes, and look at this Percy."

"Show me....Clever girl! A bullet in the wall. Somebody's been shot. I think that we have seen enough in here."

"You most certainly have," said a voice from the doorway, and the lights in the room were turned on. A blond girl stood at the door in a dressing gown, with a gun pointed at Percy.

"You are not members of our organisation, three of which have failed to return tonight. It was foolish of you to think that everybody was asleep," said the blond girl.

"Well  I didn't think that everybody was asleep. I merely thought that-"

"We were all at our posts in the tower, eh? Not so. Some of us do patrol this place."

"Do you also take the liberty of murdering anybody who threatens your plans?" returned the Sneaky Spy.

"Well normally I would automatically do away with you, but I think that our leader would like to question you both first in this case."

"He has admirable interests, I must say," said Percy, knowing that he must say anything that would give him a chance to save Ingrid, and himself too if possible, from an untimely death at the hands of this homicidal O.C.T.O.P.U.S. organisation. She had been right to warn him of the dangers, but he had been wrong to let her partake of them. He had lost Donna's life walking down beside Sydney Harbour. Was he insane, bringing Ingrid Castlecove onto a criminal organisation's island headquarters?

"The torch that looks like a pen. Put it on the table, and then move backwards," said the girl.

Percy obeyed.

"An interesting object. Let's see what else you don't use for writing. Both of you put up your hands!"
Percy and Ingrid raised their hands, and the girl made a thorough search of their persons, which yielded several more special pens, and Percy's tranquiliser dart gun.

"Agent One is asleep at the moment, but you will be locked in a room with no windows, no weapons, and none of your clever little pieces of stationery."

"Whatever you say," said Percy, "Could we have some milk and cookies - with cordial for me? You see, Ingrid's been having a lot to say about these hunger pains of hers lately, and I was wondering what you Octopeople have for snacks, when the taste of squid cutlets no longer tantalises your wicked little tum-tums."

"Be still and quiet! You will be given enough food to see you through until the morning. Now move!"

The blond girl locked the door, and left them in the room together.

"Percy, it sounded like whatever happens, they're going to kill us eventually."

"They think they are, but they won't. I said I would look after you, Ingrid, but my judgement has been off lately. I should have left you on the yacht. Still, I will find a way to get you out of this one, whatever happens to me."

"Please make sure that nothing happens to you, otherwise I would rather it happened to me too."

"Don't say that, Ingrid."
"Alright, but at least we can still pick the biscuits up, even with our hands like this."

"Of course we can. Let's even try to get some more sleep. We'll need it for our energy later."

They lay down and dozed off.

 

They were awoken at eleven am and taken up to the top room of the tower to meet Agent One, who was busy playing with Percy's collection of special pens.

"I had a look at your gun, Mister," said Agent One, "and I'm sure it fires some sort of sleeping dart or even a deadly needle, and I've also studied these interesting pens of yours. They all have their special uses, and my friend did well to deprive you of them. However, I have been puzzling myself over what to do with the contents of this aquamarine pen."

"Well, those little things are Sneaky Snacks," said Percy, "You eat them and they fizz in your mouth."

"So they are not cyanide capsules. I didn't think so."

"To save us from beating around the bush, why don't you tell me what you built this island complex for, and why you killed your scientists, if that's what happened, and whether or not this whole island has got anything to do with what's been going on in the low seas lately?"

The Sneaky Spy had developed an insatiable curiosity.

"Well, yes, it has, and they weren't our scientists, and we didn't build the island complex. It was built by a privately owned sea rescue team called O.C.T.O.P.U.S.. We of the organisation known as B.L.A.D.E. (Blackmail, Larceny And Diabolical Exterminations) managed to infiltrate O.C.T.O.P.U.S. and murder everybody. Their bodies are now obliterated ruins in the sea. Yours will soon join them. Just tell me what you're doing here, and where my two male and one female agents are."

"They're tied up in a cave on a nearby island a few miles away from this one; and I'm here with Ingrid to look for a friend who went missing, but I suppose you have made sure that we will never find him, haven't you? Death by drowning? A one-way dip?"

"You'll join him soon enough. We simply pretend to be the real O.C.T.O.P.U.S. and answer distress calls with a distress which we provide ourselves."

"But you can't keep killing people," said Ingrid, "It's cruel and horrible, and it cannot be reversed even when you realise what you've done to all your poor victims and their families."

"We have, we can and we will. Your deaths will prove that to you, if you need it to be proved. Take them down to their quarters and shoot them, Agent Number Eighteen."

"Yes, Agent One," said the girl, 'Then can I go and look for the three agents on the other island? Agent twenty-two and I are more than close friends."

"You've earned the privilege of going to look for them now," said Agent One, "So take a boat and visit that other island. Agents Seventeen and Nineteen, you will take these two down to their quarters, shoot them efficiently, and then blow them up at sea. They must have a boat around here. We might like to use that to transport their dead bodies out a mile or two. Well, get going then."

"Alright, I'm not completely heartless," said Agent Number Nineteen, "You can choose for yourselves who's going to go first."
"I don't see why Ingrid should die at all. I'm the inherent danger to your plans. You could keep her on this island and then buy her secrecy when you're all rich enough. That way she can still live."

"Percy, I had as much right to make this trip with you, and I won't be left with these creeps!" said Ingrid.

"This is very amusing, but we've never let anyone live, since we started this operation," said Agent Seventeen, "and we're not going to raise our risk levels now."

Percy was one step away from a frenzied panic, but the Sneaky Spy did not take that final step in any situation. He was so conditioned to remain cool and collected in situations such as this, that it would overflow into his domestic social life, to the point that people were annoyed by his lack of demonstrative reactions to some social developments.

Before either man could react, the Sneaky Spy swung his hands into the gunman beside him, knocking his gun hand away and struck his head as his arm bent while in motion, to launch his elbow at the man's temple. He launched a furious kick at the other man's groin and watched them both collapse. Percy took both of their guns.

"This is the last time I let you take a risk like this."

"Percy, we should share the same risks. I want you to be safe too."

"And I would be safer in a combat situation, if I didn't have to protect you too. There were two of them ,and I need to position the first one between myself and the second one, so that the second one could not attack me while I fought the first, but he could still have attacked you."

"I suppose you're right."

"It doesn't mean your role is not important. I'd be lost without having you in my life."

He hugged the girl for a prescious second, and then spoke again.

"Alright, let's go back out the way we have come in. I'll never get my things back from Agent One of B.L.A.D.E. now, and we can hardly fight this whole island without them. We'll have to take the fastest yacht out of here, and then return with the navy."

Percy and Ingrid did just that, and they were extremely fortunate not to run into any more girls with guns, having made their escape before the fate of their would be executioners had been discovered. They were soon speeding away from the island.

Before long, B.L.A.D.E.'s agents were in hot pursuit.

"We got to the boat unnoticed," said the Sneaky Spy, "but I thought that they would see a boat making an unauthorised departure from the tower. They will never catch us though. I checked our fuel, and this boat's full. It's also fast. We've just got to race ahead of them to Tasmania, and then use the radio to get in urgent contact with the navy while we're at it. Hopefully they'll arrive in time to bail us out if we need it."

Ingrid stood behind Percy with her arms around his chest, as he steered the yacht towards its distant destination. She knew that the worst was over. Percy Dale had done it again.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Absolutely astounding," said the navy admiral, "a criminal organisation taking over the headquarters of our old friends the O.C.T.O.P.U.S. research and rescue organisation. Few people even knew of the existence of O.C.T.O.P.U.S. None of us knew about B.L.A.D.E."

They had managed to make radio contact with a navy submarine, which had surfaced and taken them on board. It would do B.L.A.D.E. no good to pursue them now.

"It's astounding alright," said the Sneaky Spy, "and so fantastic that none of the authorities would ever have thought of it. You'll be able to do your job now. Just remember that those two islands are not on any maps."

"They are on mine," said the admiral, "I've known about O.C.T.O.P.U.S., Jungle Island and the other place for quite some time now. We'll send out a fleet of ships and submarines. I'll beat the best that they've got, from what you tell me. There'll be a big reward for you two, once we take that pack of Australian criminals off to be tried for the various murders and robberies that have been committed."
"I'll let you get on with it," said the Sneaky Spy, "For once I'd love to let the end of the adventure sort itself out, and just see to the safety of my friend here."

Ingrid beamed across at him, and he took her hand, and wandered into a cargo hold to be with her, while the admiral arranged for Percy and Ingrid to be transported back to Sydney and their boat returned to Tasmania.

 

*          *          *          *

Later they were snuggled up in Ingrid’s bed, kissing and cuddling, but saving other activities for marriage. Ingrid suddenly put our her tongue in front of him. It looked spectacular, even from his full sized perspective. She licked his cheek, and then unbuttoned his shirt and licked his neck and shoulders.

“That’s really nice,” he said.

“So are you,” said Ingrid, “And you did ask me something back at those islands, which I’ve been meaning to answer.”

“Oh yes. You said you’d eat me if I tasted nice. So would I be in trouble if I was not much bigger than a jellybean?”

“Absolutely, but you are. I’ll just have to get my tiny boys elsewhere,” she said, in a tone that pretended to joke but in fact contained the absolute truth, as far as she knew.

 

The world in which we live is populated by people of many races, with differing beliefs, attitudes, personal habits, tastes, hobbies, occupations, levels of income and other variable factors. It could possibly be asserted that the greatest mistake of any poorly educated analyst, sociologist, psychiatrist or counsellor is that of stereotyping; that loathsome yet ever persistent search for classes and groups into which an unsuspecting sample character might be categorized.

The error of excessive stereotyping is evident in the fictional lives of that loyal and trusted servant: the butler. He is forever performing those tasks which provide a suitable solution to the many dilemmas of millionaires, who suffer from the symptoms of being inundated with numerous financial assets in excessive of certain dollar quantities for which they have the capacity to contrive a sufficient variety of uses.

A butler's hours of work are often relatively extensive. Some butlers even reside at the estates of their employers as a condition of their employment. The butler is required to be immaculately attired, to deliver the newspapers to the hand of his employer at a certified time, to serve the desired meals, and to be polite and helpful to his employer's guests and other visitors. This distinction is mentioned in order to highlight the fact that an undesired visitor would not usually be considered as a guest.

It appears, that in the decades of old, the writers of many a murder mystery have been exceptionally eager to compose a tale in which the crime concerned is infallibly committed by that faithful fellow who has successfully carried the cucumber sandwiches through hundreds of stately homes. This trend is disturbing, to the extent that it represents an obvious example of stereotyping.

Perhaps some of the readers of murder mysteries are convinced that it is more than high time the butler was afforded at least a small reprieve, while others of those in the society from which the Sneaky Spy's followers have emerged would deem it only right, proper and correct, that the old traditions of iniquitous homicidal butlers be adequately maintained. The writer can only offer the suggestion, that this little tale will attempt to please everybody; to provide a form of cake which can be both devoured and retained; to enable the donkey to support the combined weight of both his master and his master's son without displeasing the crowd; and to cast at least a few aspersions on  the commonly held beliefs that are often expressed by the majority of dedicated patrons of the crime sections in libraries and bookstalls  in the simple words "The Butler did it."

Anthony Skilton was a butler who took pride in his work, and enjoyed the tasks associated with that distinguished form of employment known as butling. He worked at the house of Irwin Valtos, a resident of 98 Burnseid Street Wahroonga. Irwin Valtos was a managing director of a large group of financial institutions. He lived with his wife in the centre of one of the North Shore line's most scenic suburbs. Valtos had neither any shortage of friends nor any lack of money. So it was nothing of a surprise, that he should be giving a party at his own home on a Saturday night, when he knew that there was little chance of his being called into the office outside of his normal working hours in order to deal with an unforeseeable emergency.

Valtos had planned and prepared this party, giving every iota of attention to anything of the smallest degree of importance. He had researched the movements and activities of his friends, in order to select a date that would suit the majority of them, and had fortunately received thirty-eight positive replies from thirty-eight of the forty-three people that he had invited to the party. Most of these respondents had now arrived, and were now helping themselves to sausage rolls, cocktail frankfurts, and large glasses filled with Mrs Alicia Valtos' very finest non-alcoholic punch. The various conversations - that now replaced the earlier state of silence in the room - naturally blended into a nonsensical babble of mixed voices, not one of which could be distinguished from the sound made by the others, from a distance.

Cigarettes (some coated with differing shades of lipstick) found their way into the ashtray. Potato chips found their way into otherwise chattering mouths. Romantic pairs of partners found their way to the living room dance floor; and one poor fellow who had already demonstrated an overzealous enthusiasm for the house's numerous beverages, found his way to the bathroom.

There was a record playing in Valtos' hi-fidelity sound system, and a number of other records in a queue, waiting their chance to have their surfaces rotated by the reliable mechanism. The lights illuminated the front porch of Valtos' house, and he had positioned a cardboard arrow on the telegraph pole beside the footpath, upon which he had clearly written the word 'PARTY'. His remaining guests would know exactly where to come, and he could expect them to complete the total turnout within the next few minutes.

Dinnnnnnnnnnng. Donnnnnnnnnng.

Irwin Valtos repeated an action which he had already done many times that evening. He opened the door in order to admit a man and a lady into the house.

"Hello Irwin. It's nice to see you," said the lady.

"Yes, how are things?" added the man.

"Glad you could both make it. Skilton's prepared a superb feast to top off a good night's dancing and catching up with each other, and you really should try the wife's punch."

"You're not going to change my habits by-" began the man, who had now stepped into the house with the girl, and was following the girl and his host towards the assortment of food on the nearby table.

'This punch is non-alcoholic. Even you cannot complain. If I don't like something concocted from grapes and goodies, then I merely refuse to drink it."

"Well you won't refuse this."

Valtos poured the man a glass of the punch.

"You're right. It isn't alcoholic," said the man, after tasting the drink, "I'll never forget any of your countless attempts to trick me into making acquaintance with an alcoholic liquid, none of which ever succeeded either."

"I really cannot see what your moral view against it is. I let you talk me round, you know. I haven't got properly drunk since that day on the beach, when I had enough to-"

"Make the legal limit pale into insignificance. I remember it well, but there is a lady at my side. It might be wise not to go into the less than pleasant details just at the moment. There's also the chance that Mrs Valtos might find out."

"You can call her Alicia, you know."
"I'll call her anything except a bad cook. So what has she conjured up tonight?"

"All the ham and roast turkey you can eat, my friend, which for you means that Anthony Skilton has certainly earned his salary with every trip to the butcher's and the delicatessen this week."

The man grinned, and then laughed.

"I never disappoint you, do I?"

"You never cease to amaze me, either. I just don't know how anybody can eat as much as you manage to do away with at parties, and yet object to even the smallest glass of port."
"I don't morally object to it at all. I just don't prefer the taste of your more influential liquids, when I can always secure a steady supply of fruit juice and soft drinks."

The Sneaky Spy had come to the party… with Ingrid.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy lived a wild and riotous life, and involved his friends in activities, when he had convinced himself that they were indeed sincere and faithful friends. His adventures were as numerous as the countless video recordings of television shows in his special collection, and his usually retained his anonymity in two ways. Firstly, he would use the alias of Artie Myers - a ridiculous alter ego which he had thought of himself - when out on some of his adventures. Secondly, he would keep secret the fact that the man who lived at 66 Burnseid Street was the same man who played absolute chaos with the lives of those to whom Percy drily referred as 'the naughty ones.'

To complete the lifelong ruse, Percy had chosen a name for his inherited house, which was as hilariously sarcastic about the personality of the owner as a politician's promise to lower the tax rate usually proved to be. Percy Dale, the incurable Sneaky Spy, the man who refused to ever bleat like a sheep, lived in a house with a sign engraved in the woodwork of his front door, which read as follows:

 

 

 

ORDINAIRY

MAN

MANOR

 

 

Of the thirty-eight guests, Mr and Mrs Valtos and Anthony Skilton, Percy Dale and Ingrid Castlecove were the only two present who knew of Percy's Sneaky Spy lifestyle. Percy and Ingrid had attended the party with no ulterior motives. Their only aim was to enjoy themselves, while helping others to enjoy themselves as well.

Percy was still neatly dressed in a three piece black suit with a white shirt and the cravat which had caused the earlier disruption to his going about the usual transportation processes of the average pedestrian, despite his encounter with what he had left littering the lawn beside the footpath.

Ingrid was covered in the right places by a satin dress, coloured in the darkest possible shade of red, with a neckline which formed a beautiful semicircle immediately below the base of her neck. Ingrid Castlecove seldom wore lipstick. Percy had long ago convinced her that she neither needed any cosmetic attachments nor benefited from them. She was completely beautiful in the absence of any of the usual exotic extras. When these two were together, it was obvious that it had been ordained to happen.

They had been together in a few Sneaky Spy adventures. However, tonight, they sought only to have fun, and they began to dance their way towards the living room, collecting small items of food from various tables and sideboards as they did so.

Percy enjoyed popping little snacks into Ingrid's mouth, though she would never understand the reasons for that.

 

He liked the way the girl's haunting green eyes sparkled out towards him, as she went to work on a mouthful of tasty food, and he liked to look at her shapely lips. Percy and Ingrid had never had a quarrel, and yet they had taken a lot of time to become extremely familiar with each other. Ingrid knew the times when it would be more helpful to be serious, and yet she was also perfectly capable of supplementing Percy's sense of humour with her own. She enjoyed a little mischief - or even a lot of it on occasions - and she never failed to coerce Percy into a conversation wherein the dialogue was as witty and intelligent as some of the Sneaky Spy's most memorable monologues.

"Percy, could we sit on the couch for a while? I think that my toes need a rest already."
"Will I still be able to stare at your eyes?"

"I was hoping that you might have a storehouse of sweet nothings to whisper in my ear."

"I thought of a few while we were dancing actually. Alright, let's sit down. Mind you, some of those sweet nothings have got a lot of something in them."
"Something from nothing, Percy?"

"You really are something," Percy said under his breath."
"Something?"

"Oh nothing."

They sat down.

"Oh yes, what are those sweet little nothings of yours?"

"Well seriously, just that I feel so..."

Percy's voice was now a whisper.

"....complete and happy when we're together."

"Thank you," said Ingrid.

"It's not just that.... Ingrid, I can't even see your ears while I keep kissing under your chin between sentences. Can you still hear the sweet nothings loud and clear?"

"Yes, but not too loud and too clear, please. We don't want everybody else in the room here with us to hear them as well."

She kissed his cheeks.

Percy looked again at her dress.

"You know that outfit makes you look absolutely regal."

"Percy, you have impeccable taste."
"Can I have your attention folks?" called Valtos.

Valtos had now admitted all of his guests for the evening, and was preparing a brief speech in his head.

"It's good to have you all here. I hope that you're all catching up on old times or meeting new friends for the first time. If you would like to fill your plate with turkey and ham, and any other trimmings you want from the other dishes; and then Anthony Skilton my butler will be around in due course to top up your glasses with pink champagne, unless you're a little squeamish like Percy."

"I wasn't expecting to be squeamish tonight, or did you do some of the cooking?" said Percy Dale with a mischievous look in his eyes.

The guests began to file around the table, collecting pieces of food with which to fill their plates, until Percy instinctively turned his head in the direction of a loud groan, immediately followed by a thumping crash.

Percy had no idea whether or not or how often Irwin Valtos fought with his wife. He did not

know what Alicia Valtos was currently doing as a means of employment. Nor did he know how she made such a delicious non-alcoholic punch. However, the Percy Dale who ran across the room to examine the fallen woman knew very soon, that Alicia Valtos would never fight with her husband. She would never return to her vocation. She would never make another drop of non-alcoholic punch, and she would certainly never live and breathe again.

"Irwin, she has died, and at a rough guess, I'd say it was caused by a fatal dose of poison."

Percy spoke softly and quietly, and yet his voice was audible to everyone else in the room, who now saw a different Percy Dale to the one who had so soon before been carrying on with Ingrid Castlecove on the couch.

"Yes. I'll just have to believe you, and take this in and cope with it."

"If you all wish to stay above suspicion," said Percy in a commanding tone, "Then I suggest that you stay here in the house. I will question the first person who tries to leave, whether they like it or not."

Percy, do you think it could have been that bikie?" asked Ingrid, "He might have followed us here for revenge."

"It's unlikely, after the state I left him in, and besides, you haven't let anyone like him into the house, have you?"

"I certainly haven't. I'd better call the police station," said Valtos.

"Which one?"

"Pymble. I usually do, when I need police assistance."

Percy did not deem it an appropriate moment to make a joke about the extent of a policeman's ability to provide assistance, despite his recollections of the bikie incident in his teenage years. He simply made a lightning decision to perform as many of his own investigations as possible, before the policeman or policemen arrived.

He waited for Irwin to replace the receiver.

"Irwin, I know you will be very upset now, and I cannot expect the others to feel much better, but would you mind if I ask a few people some questions?"

"You can do anything you consider suitable, Percy."

"Well I'll start with a general question to everybody. Did any of you know if any others had anything against Mrs Valtos?"

There were various murmurs and "no"s of differing tones.

Percy asked his next question with an introductory statement of fact.

"I'm fully convinced that Alicia Valtos was murdered. We cannot bring her back, but I'm sure Irwin would want to find out who did it and why. Now, does anyone here know any possible way that anyone would benefit from her death?"

"Well not meaning to be flippant, Sir," began Skilton, "but I would stand to inherit a large portion of their wills, if they both died. Master Valtos told me so himself once, but I would not do something like this, and I hope the master finds his man?"

"Who else inherits, Irwin?" asked the Sneaky Spy.

"Oh, we're leaving a bit to some distant cousins, but Anthony deserves most of it. He has been a reliable butler for years now."
"Where are your cousins now?" asked Percy.

"On a holiday overseas. I'm telling you, Percy, it couldn't have been them. They're not the sort of people who would do it themselves, and they certainly wouldn't arrange a murder either. What makes you convinced it was murder anyway?"

"Sorry, Irwin, but a revelation of that would give the whole show away to the real killers, if they're still around."

"And nobody's left. So do you mean that it must be somebody in this room right here?" asked Irwin.

"I'm not sure yet."

"Why are you playing detective anyway?" asked a portly fellow who had not removed his top hat since he had entered the house.

Percy was actually lost for words, but only for a second.

However, it was Ingrid who answered first.

"Because he's good at it, and he cares about Irwin."

"Well yes, more or less," affirmed the Sneaky Spy, wondering who would visit the house in a blue uniform shortly afterwards.

"Oh come on, I'm tired and I want to go to bed, and it wasn't me anyway. If we're not having dinner now, I'd prefer to go," said another guest.

"You can go upstairs and sleep on Irwin's bed," suggested Ingrid, and Percy moved towards the man to steer and propel him rapidly towards the staircase.

"Think you're smart, I suppose," said the man.

"Janis, please just go," said Irwin, "Make it easier for me, will you please?"'

Janis ascended the stairs without another word, and Percy turned to Valtos.

"Irwin, he's gone up now, so you can tell me freely," said the Sneaky Spy, "Do you think he would have any reason to want to kill your wife?"

"None at all. I mean, he's a selfish sort of a fool, but only in a relatively harmless kind of a way. He'd never kill somebody. It's just not in his nature."

"Do you know enough about your wife's medical condition? If she had any history of weak heart signs, it might account for her fainting and dying unexpectedly like that?"

Percy waited for the answer.

As he waited, he noticed an empty medicine glass sitting on one of the tables.

"No. No weak heart signs at all. The only thing she did have was a terrible pain in her throat. The doctor has given her a week's supply of medicine to drink. Anthony gives it to her just before dinner every day. If that doctor's prescribed the wrong medicine and killed her by accident, I swear I'll-"

"It wasn't your doctor, Irwin, and I'll tell you something else."

"You don't think it was an accident."

"Killing a woman by poisoning her medicine never is. Wouldn't you agree with me on that one, Skilton? After all, most doctors don't make mistakes like that, do they?"

"No they don't, Sir, but I swear I did nothing to her medicine. The doctor gave her the bottle, and it was then included in my duties to pour out the correct amount and give it to her each day, just before dinner."

"Well I'm telling you now, Irwin. In fact, I'm telling you all, that when Pymble's finest forensic fellows wander in here and start looking at Mrs Alicia Valtos, they're not going to find a bullet - not even one that could have been fired from a gun with a silencer while we all chatted loudly on the dance floor. They're going to find a girl with poison in her medicine. I'm not definitely accusing Skilton or anyone else yet, but I'm going to find out who did it, and I'll take the person or people to court for it. Now Skilton, I will not say that I suspect you. I will say, however, that I think that you - in a situation like this - are the obvious suspect. Did you give Mrs Valtos the exact amount prescribed by the doctor tonight?"

"Yes Sir, I did. I never get it wrong."

"Of course you don't, but do you ever leave the bottle with the lid off for any length of time? Do you ever leave it in an unhealthy place? Do you ever take it into unsanitary places? Do you scrupulously wash your hands every time you plan to touch the bottle? As I said, you are the obvious suspect. I believe in the philosophy of innocent until proven guilty myself, but it doesn't look too good for you. Still, I won't give up trying to find out what did really happen."

"No, I suppose it doesn't look good for me," said Skilton.

 

Percy had absolutely no idea in his mind as to who could be responsible for the insidious action which had put an end to the life of Mrs Alicia Valtos, but he knew that he had to keep on pushing people and striking at their nerves, while he still had the chance to run the show on his own. The arrival of a policeman and his forensic medics would surely reduce Percy's control over the situation. The forensic medicine would only serve to confirm what a common sense process of deductive argumentation and reasoning had made apparent to Percy anyway. There had been no bullet wounds or cuts and no history of a weak heart condition. Readers of previous Sneaky Spy adventures will know that Percy seldom, if ever, vested great faith in the possible value of a policeman's presence.

"If you're really innocent, you might not have to worry anyway," said Percy at last, "Where's the medicine bottle now?"

'"Sitting on one of the kitchen shelves," said Anthony Skilton.

"Nobody touches that bottle until the police have compared its fingerprints to those of everyone in this room," said Percy, "and if they match someone's prints other than those of Skilton, then we will know for certain that Skilton is not the sole naughty one in this party, if he is even a naughty one at all."

"I'll get the key and lock the room," said Valtos.

"And I'll come along, just out of curiosity," said the Sneaky Spy.

He waited until he and Irwin were out of earshot of the others, and then consoled his friend.

"Look Irwin, I'm sorry to have to include you under suspicion, but anyone could have tampered with your wife's medicine. I cannot let anyone out - and none of your guests can really let me off the hook either - until we find out who the killer actually was."
Percy opened the door to the kitchen, surveyed the bottle on the shelf, and then left the room and watched Valtos turn the key in the lock. Soon afterwards they heard a ringing from the front door.

"Well I guess I will just have to let the law take over now," said Percy, reserving his own inner thoughts of continuing to mentally screen every single thing that happened in the house until he found the person responsible for the death of Alicia Valtos. The door was opened by the owner of the house, and into the room walked three plainclothes men, one of them carrying a large case; and an inspector by the name of Higgins.

Percy wondered what he would say to the man. The Sneaky Spy had not revealed his name (nor any cognomen or alias) to the inspector, when he had tussled with Higgins at a girls college in order to clear the name of a woman suspected of attacks on school girls.

"Well, how nice to see you again," said Higgins.

"Yes indeed. Do you mind if I have a small conversation with you in privacy, Inspector?"

"Certainly. Who telephoned, by the way?"

"I did, Inspector," said Valtos, "I take it you know Percy Dale already."

"Yes, we have ... met. We'll go into the next room, if it's alright with you. Is every guest still here?"

"There's one asleep upstairs," said Percy, "Come on Higgins."

The inspector followed Percy into the spare room.

"You really did a good job on me that night, Mister Dale. Would you care to explain why?"

"I read the newspaper stories about an attacker at the school, and decided to go in search of the naughty ones. Then you had to turn up and blame me for the attacks, and, well I got impatient and left you knocked out in the bushes. You can put me in a line-up, Higgins, and you can also talk to some associates of mine, because I have cast iron alibis for my movements on the nights of several of the attacks."

(Percy had read of these attacks in various newspapers).

"Well it seems that I can only let that business go, using my own discretion not to charge you with taking the law into your own hands, assaulting a policeman, and trespassing on school property. This new case is far more important, and you're in it up to your neck, along with everyone else in the house."

"Even the owner and his butler, I know, Inspector."

Percy followed the inspector back into the living room, inwardly celebrating the fact that he had found a policeman who did not feel the need to follow through every single technicality. The man had erred. Percy had bopped the man in the flesh with a powerful tranquilising dart, and a coincidence of situations had reunited them.

"Who knows?" thought the Sneaky Spy, "He might even prove to be of some assistance in cracking this case."

Higgins began to ask a series of questions similar to those that Percy had asked the others earlier. Meanwhile, the forensic medicine team took the body of Alicia Valtos into the spare room and began to examine her.

"As I have already said," replied Skilton, "I gave her the medicine as usual, and she drank it. Ten minutes later I heard her groaning, and then she collapsed. She has not stirred since then. Mister Dale assures us that she is now dead."

"Oh we are convinced, Mister Skilton, of the fact that Mrs Valtos is most definitely dead," said the inspector, "We also know that she took some medicine that was administered to her by you. It is reasonable to assume that you might have had something to do with her having been poisoned."

Percy was inwardly impatient now. He had already enacted this line of questioning to little avail himself. When would he ever be able to think of a way to learn the truth?

 

*          *          *          *

 

More questions.

More fruitless answers.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy suddenly had a burst of inspiration.

"Sorry Skilton," he said, "and sorry to interrupt you, Inspector, but I have just remembered something which has only in the last few minutes occurred to me as being of significant importance. When Ingrid and I first arrived tonight, Skilton had a jacket on over his vest. Where's your jacket now, Skilton?"

"I'll go and get it from the cloak room," said Skilton.

"And Higgins and I shall come with you," rapped Percy, before the Inspector could make the same ultimatum himself. They were soon standing in front of the jacket, which the inspector opted to examine himself.

Inspector Higgins found a few suspicious items in the inner pocket of the jacket.

He removed a small dropper and a narrow vial of fluid.

"Why don't you give these little goodies over to your forensic boys?" asked Percy.

"But I really don't know how on earth that stuff got in there, Inspector," said the butler.

"Don't worry too much. Higgins might have his own ideas about this case, but that jacket of yours convinces me that you had absolutely nothing at all to do with the murder."
"What do you mean?" exploded the inspector.

"Simply, old bulldog, that the clue is too obvious. Anybody who seriously contemplated a murder would not overlook such a dead giveaway as that. It's an obvious clue, and one that Skilton would have thought of removing much earlier in the piece. I am now absolutely sure that there is somebody who is doing their level best to frame an innocent butler."

"That's rather an elaborately contrived story, Dale."

"We'll see who cracks this one first, Higgins, old boy."

One of the doctors entered the room and explained that the woman had indeed been poisoned. She would not have detected the effect of the altered medicine until it had almost taken its full effect. The connection between the dropper and vial and the death of Alicia was indisputable.

"Excuse me," said Valtos, "But Skilton, Anthony, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me whether or not you had anything to do with this hideous murder of my wife."

"I promise you again, that I had nothing to do with it, except as the innocent person who unwittingly administered medicine that somebody else took the unexplained opportunity to poison. The lady you married was as good to me as you yourself have been, and I wish to see her killer apprehended."

"Thank you," said Valtos, "I wish I hadn't had to ask that."

The inspector came to the conclusion that a hearing would be necessary in order to determine the missing facts of the case, and decided to take the names of everyone present, in order to ensure that they all attend the hearing. He made up a dossier containing the names, addresses and telephone numbers of each of the people there, and then warned them all to attend the hearing after being notified of its date. He did not have sufficient evidence to imprison anyone, not even Skilton.

Then the inspector gathered his team and left.

"Do you mind if I have a private conversation with Anthony?" asked Percy.

"Not at all, if he doesn't mind," replied Valtos, as his guests expressed their condolences and departed for the night.

Percy and Anthony found a room for themselves and began to converse.

"Anthony, if you're hiding anything at all - or you can think of any piece of significant information - then you had better tell me."

"There is one irrelevant thing, but I will only reveal it to you, if you promise not to tell the master about it."

"Alright."

"I have always enjoyed my work. I feel proud to be a butler, and it has been particularly nice to work for the Valtos couple in one of the most attractive streets of Wahroonga. Irwin might need me more than ever now.  The thing is that, financially, I do not really need this job, since I won two million dollars in a lottery. I am now independantly wealthy, with a house of my own. Valtos doesn't know about this. He might feel like discharging me and employing somebody else. I want to keep my old job without Irwin thinking that I am patronising him."

"Well I cannot see anything important in that yet, but thank you anyway. I fear that Higgins has it in for you, but trust me. They won't take you away while I'm around."

 

Percy then had a private conversation with Valtos.

"I won't tell you why yet, but keep Skilton here until I get back. Find some work that simply must be done now. He's loyal and fond of you. So he will listen to any request you make. Perhaps just ask him for a shoulder to lean on."

"Alright, but what are you going to do?"

"You might find out later," said Percy, and he wandered over to Ingrid Castlecove.

"Ingrid, I think we might as well go home."

"Aren't you going to investigate any more?"

"There's nothing else I can do, until the hearing is over."

"But that's not like- .... mmm."

There are times in a man's life, when he will feel strongly inclined to kiss somebody purely for the benefit of expressing his romantic feelings. For Percy, this was not one of those times. His intention was only to silence Ingrid, in a pleasant sort of way, before she said too much.

Ingrid understood.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"I know you're cooking up something," said Ingrid, as they walked back to Percy's house in number 66, "So why don't you tell me, now that we're on our own?"

"I most certainly shall. I just wanted to dissuade the others from adopting any belief that I might be planning anything else."

"How are you going to do anything, if we go to your house? Surely we should have stayed at Irwin's house and waited for the murderer to make a mistake and give himself away."
"I think there is a good chance that the murderer is no longer in Irwin's house or anywhere near the place. I had a productive discussion with Valtos, an informative conversation with Skilton and a most interesting dialogue with Inspector Higgins, who no longer blames me for whatever happened at your old school, which is coincidentally where I met him. He might be hoping to pin this murder on me, but I'm fairly sure that he has decided to forget about that little scenario and concentrate on the killing of Mrs Valtos. There is no point in our staying there tonight. We have really heard all that anybody wants to say. The best thing we can do now is make a few preparations at Ordinairy Man Manor, and then have ourselves a look at the house currently owned by Anthony Skilton."

"Doesn't he live at the Valtos house?"

"No. He only works there in the evenings, when the couple are at home. He has a house of his own."

 

"I'm surprised that there are even two Skiltons in the telephone directory. The one at Sutherland is probably a relative of our butler fellow, who more than likely lives at the other address being in Hornsby. I'll load up the tranquiliser guns and prepare a few other items of technical paraphernalia, while you drive home and change. You had best not wake your neighbours, my dear. We usually try to perform our nocturnal activities without having a hundred people telephoning the council to complain about the noise. I should think that a girl who enters her house dressed for dancing and then departs it dressed for housebreaking might just possibly attract some attention, should she be heard doing it."

"Don't worry. I'll park the car a block away from my house and walk home."
"And I'm sure that those dainty white fingers of yours can turn the key in the lock of your own front door quietly. See you soon, lass."

Percy began to load the guns with the special darts, and then selected a few of his special hollow pens as well. The Sneaky Spy had a pen, which - when the cap was removed - proved to be a sturdy screwdriver. He had a pen with a powerful explosive inside it just waiting to be lit. He had a pen that actually functioned as a torch, a pen with a sharp blade hidden inside the cap, a pen which could be loaded with one tranquiliser dart, and various other pens too. He also had a few small pieces of equipment which could be used to force a door lock.

Tonight, in the absence of a window having been left open, these special tools would be of paramount importance.

Ingrid soon returned, now wearing dark trousers conveniently supplemented with a dark shirt and a dark blue parka. She collected some of the gadgetry and drove Percy to the closest carpark to Skilton's Hornsby address.

"We'll walk around the back. With the back door, there should be no chance of a bell ringing, or a door knocker vibrating around while we do the job."

"Do you know what you're looking for?" asked Ingrid.

"For a start, I'd like to find just one iota of supporting evidence of Skilton's lottery prize winnings. He may have concocted that story to throw me off suspecting him. At the same time, I will have a chance to give the whole place the once over. We don't know for sure, that the aim of this exercise was to put an end to Alicia Valtos. It may merely have been an option for somebody whose real major goal was to do something sinister to Skilton. After all, that plant in his coat  was too blatant. He would not have left those things in there himself. The man is intelligent. Somebody is out to lay this one on him. I'd like to know why, before we do anything else."

 

*          *          *          *

 

The lock was unwittingly motivated towards complete submission to the wills of Ingrid Castlecove and the Sneaky Spy. The triumphant pair had only one more thing to do before entering the house.

"Just open it an inch or two, and let me empty my oil loaded pen onto the hinges. The door might be old and creaky if we don't," said the Sneaky Spy.

"It will still be old, if we do," said Ingrid.

"Oh yes, very clever. Do you know I had a friend once, who decided to burgle the home of a wealthy old lady. He's hardly my friend at the moment, but anyway, he forced the lock successfully and entered the house from the front doorway. Then he discovered, to his sheer horror, that he had tripped a circuit, which activated an alternate light switch for the old girl's bed lamp, and awoken the elderly lady.

"He had not wanted to bring a gun with him, for fear of having to kill somebody, which wasn't his style. So it came to him as something of a shock, when he saw her running towards him with a large rolling pin swaying violently in front of her colourless oversized nightdress. He would have had no choice but to accept his fate in terror, had he not had a sudden burst of inspiration.

" 'I can explain all this,' he said, 'I'm a victim of intended attempted murder. This was the only way. They're looking for me all over your street now.'"

"And that saved him from the lady's wrath?"

"Well no. Unfortunately for my friend, the old girl was totally deaf. I visited him in hospital shortly afterwards. Don't giggle, Ingrid. You'll give us away."
Ingrid merely responded by providing, for the Sneaky Spy's benefit, one of those exquisitely erotic smiles, which were discussed in the earlier part of our story. The oil had successfully greased the hinges - whether or not they needed it - for the door slid open soundlessly at the  touch of Percy's natural (right) hand.

A silent search of the house eventually led them to find a study, which prompted Percy to give a little less credit to his night vision and turn on the special torch pen.

"I'll do the looking, lass. Just keep the tranquiliser gun pointed at the doorway through which we just entered this room. We can't be certain that nobody else lives here."

"Or that the place doesn't have any rolling pins," whispered Ingrid with a grin.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy's search of the study disclosed a number of things. The most important of these was a letter regarding a matter of some prize winnings which were to be forwarded to the bank account specified by Skilton. The letter was dated a little over a year earlier.

"I figured his new address would be in the telephone book by now, if he won the money and bought this place a little over a year ago. This confirms it all. There's still nothing here about Mrs Valtos."

Percy's mind was pondering every possible clue as he searched the small room.

"This just simply must involve Skilton somehow. The medicine and the planting of that incriminating false evidence in Skilton's coat pocket are two very strong connections between Valtos' butler and the death of his wife," thought the Sneaky Spy, determined to find out why somebody would frame Skilton.

"Are you having any luck?" whispered Ingrid.

"Oh Ingrid darling, why does suspicion always fall on the butler? One would think that - even going by the laws of probability - in real life, it might be somebody different for once."
"Have you thought of anything?"

"Only that:

                        A man whose work task was to butle

                        Was framed for a murder not subtle.

                        He took not the life

                        Of his good master's wife....

                        ....but I guess that one's still open to rebuttal."

 

Percy had never whispered one of his eccentric limericks before, but he knew that Ingrid's lips would adequately express a sense of amusement that was presently denied to her vocal chords.

He continued:

                        "The murder was done with a bottle:

                        The killer's answer to 'What'll

                        I do to the dame,

                        Who shares Valtos' name?'

                        It would have been simpler to throttle."

 

"You're allowed to become a little frivolous and frustrated," said Ingrid.

"Frivolous and funny indeed, but not frustrated. The wilder the mystery the more satisfying the solution."

Percy was pleased, at least, with the success of the visit to Skilton's house. Usually, he would respect a person's rights to privacy and the sole right to their property; but Anthony Skilton was his only possible lead to solving a problem, and Percy could always pay for the lock on the back door, "less my fee for the free grease and oil job on the hinges," he thought to himself.

Skilton's filing cabinet contained details of his previous employers' credentials, his tax records, his ledgers, some addresses and telephone numbers of various ladies, the names of which were all new to Percy, who again began to think:

"Maybe he actually did kill Alicia Valtos. Perhaps he's a fellow who hasn't had much if any success with the ladies, and so he killed Alicia out of jealousy. After all, he was able to duplicate his master's wealth, and he might have chosen to retain his employment at the Valtos residence in the hope of having an extra-marital affair with Alicia. If that was possible, then why did he kill her? To keep her quiet, because she threatened to tell Valtos, thus ending his career? No. If she had rejected him, then he would have had no reason to save his career anyway. Could it have been an act of frustrated revenge, because he had made an approach to her and been rejected?"

It was a part of Percy's Sneaky Spy activities, to be able to understand the way that human beings think and act in certain circumstances, in order to make predictions, assumptions or deductions about their possible behaviour patterns.

"After all, I could be right in assuming that line of reasoning. Skilton might have left the damning evidence in his jacket, having had no chance to remove it, during his busy night attending to party guests, and hoped the police would think as I did, that it was too obvious a frame-up to have been his own doing. It is an accepted fact among psychiatrists and sociologists, that the most devastating factor in a human being's life is a relationship that is either broken, failing or one that never got off the ground in the first place. It's just a thought, and I won't throw it into Ingrid's mind just yet. However, it may well be the answer to this confusing string of events. The most appealing thing about that line of reasoning is that it doesn't really shoot my framing theory down in flames. I decided that somebody must have framed the butler, or at least tried to. Now, were Skilton to be an extremely shrewd sort of a character, or alternatively, were he to borrow the idea from a detective novel, then our butler may well have thought of framing himself, in order to throw suspicion back on the unknown."

"Percy," whispered Ingrid, "Somebody's coming down the stairs, and we both know that Skilton should be still back at Valtos' house!"

It is indeed possible for a man and a girl to disappear behind a desk and crouch down on the floor in five seconds flat. We know that it is possible, because Percy and Ingrid had done it, within five seconds after the moment that the girl had given an almost silent warning.

"Who on earth can that be?" whispered Ingrid.

"I don't know, but if he finishes whatever he came down to do - and I am just assuming it's a he, because of his heavy tread when his feet touch the floor - without catching us, I'll whip the filing cabinet soundlessly open again, and see if I can find out. At least we know it's not just the neighbours who must be prevented from hearing us."

"We'll have some explaining to do if he finds us."

"Well this is why it is always good housebreaking practice to close any doors that one opens, after one has passed through the relevant doorways."

Percy had excellent hearing. He always believed that he could hear a male flea whispering sweet nothings into the ear of a female flea. However, neither Percy nor Ingrid were required to exercise the full hearing abilities of any of the four ears between them in order to detect the sounds that the unknown man was making. They heard two feet thumping across the floor, a saucepan being filled with water and placed on a stove, the same stove being rapidly turned on, a comment about "cold nights even in the autumn months of the year," the contents of a saucepan being strained into a cup, the drinking of the aforementioned liquid, some coughing spluttering, a comment about the fact that the stranger had made the drink too hot, a slight pause, an unsavoury phrase to the effect of "that's more like it," and two feet thundering out of the room and their subsequent ascent of the stairs.

"The thing that amazes me is that he could manage to make all that noise, and we still didn't hear him turning the lights on and off," said Percy, "Well let's see if we can find out whether he's an old mate of Skilton's, or some curious cross between the butcher, the baker and that ever faithful wielder of wondrous wads of wax."

Percy returned to the filing cabinet, taking an even greater interest in its contents than he had previously taken. He did find some details which were of reference to nobody other than the man upstairs.

"Well that's the icing on the cake," said Percy in a low whisper, "and it certainly puts a new twist to this case. I wonder if you're getting the same ideas that I am."

Percy explained his findings to Ingrid and then led the girl back through the house towards the back door, having restored the filing cabinet to its original position, closed. Percy and Ingrid moved towards the door of that back room, and Percy's hand silently clasped the handle of the door. Then the lights went on, and they turned to face a man and his gun.

"Hands up please, and stay where you are, the pair of you," said the stranger, "I thought I heard visitors in the study. I suppose that my first performance convinced you that you would hear me coming if I woke up again while you were trying to sneak out."

"Very novel," said Percy, "That racket you made should ensure that you're nominated for an award."

"Well I could hardly spring a surprise on you in the study. You've probably got guns, and the desk is a good thing for cover, as well as a good hiding place."

"Did you know that I had a friend who tried to burgle the home of an elderly lady, and-"

"Shut up!"
The stranger removed Percy's tranquiliser guns, paying them sufficiently less attention than that which would be required in order to discover their unusual features.

"So I've still got my pens and the knives on my arm and leg as usual," thought Percy completely at ease.

"Now what did you two come to steal?"

"Well nothing in particular," said Percy, "We just thought we would see what your place had to offer. It's a nice house. We thought the owner might be rich. Are you?"

"At home, no. At the bank, most definitely. I'll be keeping your guns, but you can hold onto whatever you used to unlock the door. I'll see you both out into the street and take no action this time. However, if you ever come back here, I shall ring for the police. Do you understand?"

"Yes, and thank you," said Ingrid, "We haven't really got any excuses for this, except that we're a bit like Bonnie and Clyde. We just can't help ourselves."

"Except when we're addictively helping ourselves to people's possessions," added Percy, and walked Ingrid out to the street as instructed.

 

"That character clearly had something to hide," said the Sneaky Spy, when they were out of sight of the house.

"How could you possibly tell?" returned Ingrid, "You didn't exactly question him. It was the other way around. I wonder he didn't think that we had more to hide."

"He didn't hand us over to the police. He obviously doesn't want to attract police attention to Skilton's house, and I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar that it's because he's involved in the killing of Alicia Valtos."

"Do we go and explain our findings to Irwin then?"

"Not a chance. I want my guns back. The only reason I pretended to leave was the simple fact that his having got the drop on us had put your safety at risk. I'm going back to reverse the situation. I'll meet you back at the car later. If you get bored in the car, you can always go for a meal at Hornsby's all night service station and then come back. I'll see you after I've finished with that fellow."

They said their more than friendly goodbyes and headed in opposite directions, Ingrid towards a familiar car and the Sneaky Spy back towards the house inhabited by Anthony Skilton and the unknown with the gun.

"I must have made too much noise with the filing cabinet last time. That won't be a problem this time. I don't suppose old Gunfellow will attempt to repair his back door lock tonight. He'll tick me off on his mental list as having been his quota of attempted burglaries for the year, and toddle back off to bed. I can just slip in through the back door the way I did with Ingrid before."

Once inside the house, Percy took immeasurable degrees of care not to again awaken Gunfellow, and contemplated an ascent of the staircase.

"Not a chance," he thought, "If he heard me before, I would be sure to awaken him again. I shall have to lure Gunfellow down here and be ready for him."

Percy stood at the bottom of the stairs, performing the mental gymnastics which were to enable him to create a plan of action with a greater chance of success than those already attempted so far that night.

"If he heard another noise, he would probably assume that I came back for something in the study... That's if the noise comes from the study. I'll have to make sure that it does."

Percy took from his inner coat pocket a hollow pen and removed the cap. He had memorized the fact that the red pen was a torch, the purple pen was a knife, the green pen fired a tranquilising dart, and the pen selected for this little exercise was pink.

From inside the pen, Percy extracted a thin rod, around which was wound several metres of fishing line. Being one hundred per cent sure that he made not the slightest sound, Percy opened the door to the study and entered the room.

He stole over to the filing cabinet, and tied one end of the fishing line around the knob of one of the sliding drawers of the cabinet. He unravelled the fishing line as he crept back out into the hallway, and inwardly celebrated the fact that the line was long enough to allow him the opportunity to be hiding under the staircase when he pulled it. When he had reached the small area under the stairs, with its sloping roof which naturally supported the climbing flight of stairs, Percy found something to make his plan absolutely infallible.

"The master fuse panel! By the bath towel of Bartholomew Barnabas! This is too good to be true, but I'm glad that it is true all the same."

Percy examined the labels until he found the fuse for the light in the study. His purple knife pen cut through the thin piece of wire, while its plastic handle shielded him from an electric shock.

"There aren't any lights on the stairs, but if he turned on the light in the study as he entered the room, it's just possible that he would see the fishing line when the lights come on, which might make my next moves a little more difficult. He does well to find his way around in the dark anyway, but then he seems to live here. His kinaesthetic sense is aided by a knowledge of the geography of this building. He doesn't need to be as clever as a Sneaky Spy," thought Percy.

For his plan to succeed, Percy had to leave the door of the study open in order to manoeuvre the fishing line; but first of all, he needed to make another noise, in order to awaken Gunfellow.

So with both his leg sheath's knife and the fishing line in his left hand, he made a convincingly 'accidental' rattling of the study's doorhandle with his right hand, and disappeared soundlessly under the staircase. He felt the blade of the knife in his left hand, and then transferred the handle to his right hand. Percy thought:

"This knife was the obvious choice. I don't want to let too many people know about the special capabilities of my little goodies all masquerading as common pieces of stationery. So I shall leave the purple pen out of this performance for the rest of its duration."

When the man had almost reached the bottom of the dark staircase, Percy pulled the fishing line, listening to the noise as he did so, and waited for Gunfellow to creep into the doorway. The man was still taking in the fact that his use of the light switch had failed to turn on the light, when he felt an arm closing around his neck, and a sharp blade softly pricking his skin around the nape.

"Do I really have to tell you to drop that dangerous little toy of yours?" said the Sneaky Spy, in a calm but persuasive voice.

The man and his weapon were separated from each other.

It was Gunfellow's choice that they should part.

Percy then silently withdrew his knife, silently slipped it into his pocket and used his now free hand to deliver a blow to the back of Gunfellow's neck, which would amply encourage the fellow to catch up on some lost sleep.

"Which is exactly what he needs, after all of the interruptions that his beddy-byes have suffered so far tonight," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he dragged the man's slumbering body into the kitchen, collecting the gun with his free hand.

The man was allowed ten minutes compensation of sleep, and was then awoken by the Sneaky Spy, who had left the man lying in the middle of the floor.

Gunfellow stared up at the man who sat in a chair a few metres away, throwing biscuits at his face.

"Okay I'm awake. You can stop wasting all my bikkies, now."

"And you can stop wasting all my time, and tell me what it is that you were hiding from us before."

"Nothing at all. You should tell me why you keep breaking into this place. Don't you think that twice in one night is going a little too far? Where's your lady friend anyway?"

"A number of questions, my friend, of which I am only going to partly answer one. I am here now, because I want to know what you're hiding from me."

"What makes you think that I would be hiding anything at all?"

"You must be up to something very naughty indeed, Gunfellow - Can I call you Gunfellow? The name reflects my earliest memories of your presence in this house tonight. Oh yes, a very naughty thing it must have been, if you were so keen to keep the police away from your house, that you let two suspected burglars get away Scott free. We're not burglars actually, as it turns out, but do tell me what it is that you're hiding, or I am going to have to use the items in your own house to do all sorts of things to you - things that are usually far more effective and far more terrifying than the methods of persuasion that you see in the movies."

"Look! For the last time, I'm not hiding anything! This is the craziest thing that's ever happened. A burglar - or whatever you think you are - questions me at gunpoint in my own house!"

"You're quite sure it's your house?"

"Well yes, I do live here, that is. When the police hear what you have been doing tonight, they will-"

"I really don't think that you'll feel like calling them, even if I give you the chance. We have been through that one already. Now are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

It was probably the most unpleasant experience of Gunfellow's life. No man enjoys having to strip down to his underpants and stand under freezing cold shower water, with a gun pointed straight at his chest. Percy had already worked out the only possibly plausible solution to the mystery of Alicia's murder, and the second scrutiny of the filing cabinet had confirmed his suspicions. There was even a perfect motive for the killing, if Percy had guessed correctly. The only thing that was required now was a confession from the man with the wet underpants and the chilled flesh.

"Turn the shower off! I'll tell you!"
"Turn it off yourself, and I won't need to risk losing the gun."

Gunfellow's hand frantically turned the tap around and around, until the water ceased to flow.

"Don't think I cannot keep both eyes on you even in this room. The undertakers would hardly enjoy having to load you into a coffin in your underpants."

"I won't try a thing. Can I run the hot water while I'm telling my story?"
"Certainly. You're the first person I have ever met who has actually cared for a second shower in the course of only a few minutes. Don't put your clothes back on, though. We might have to do this again."
The man known to Percy as Gunfellow began to tell to the Sneaky Spy a tale of his dishonest misdeeds.

"Well I suppose you must already know about the loot I've stolen, and that's what you came here to steal from me. I can cut you in on a share, if you like, but you're probably interested in how I got it. It was simple, really. I'm a pretty good safecracker. Show me an unopened safe, and I'll soon be showing you what's in it."

"Yes, and I have a good ear for tumblers myself. I can hear a cockroach stepping lightly across the softest black forest cake, but go on with your story."

"Well you must have come here looking for the loot. It's not here. I couldn't leave it lying around. I stashed that elsewhere, but I wasn't going to chance the police coming around here and matching my build with the description that one of the neighbours put in the daily editions of the Kuringai Chronicle."

"Then you were seen making your escape."

"I suppose so."

"So what did you manage to steal?"

"There were jewels, and plenty of cash too, all in fifty dollar notes."

"How much?"

"I'd say plenty near a hundred thousand. They must have needed it for a forthcoming transaction to be made in cash. So do we talk business?"

"I think we do. I'll take the lot. You can show me where it is."

"You can't do that. I'll blow the whistle on you, if I don't get an even half."

"You don't know who I am, and remember you're an ideally adequate fit for the description of the thief, primarily because you are the thief."

The ensuing comments made by Gunfellow were hardly as important as they were predictable.

"Never mind the flattery," said the Sneaky Spy, "Just put your clothes on and let's be off. You'll have to make this trip wearing wet underpants, because I don't know your bedroom well enough to risk what might happen while I left you alone to change."

"Then come in there with me. I've got to take these ones off."
There are some fates that are even too much for a Sneaky Spy to face, and so it was a man wearing wet underwear beneath a two piece suit, who drove the Sneaky Spy down to Tryon Road Park, Lindfield.

"So you've hidden it all in a cave out in the Lindfield Rocks bush?"
"That I have. I still wish you would let me keep just enough to better myself."

"You won't be keeping any of it, and incidentally, I don't see how a bundle of bawbles, beads and bills could in any way better a fellow such as yourself. You might as well know that I think that the loot would be better spent on my lady."

Percy did not want to tell the man that he planned to return it all to its rightful owner, because a Sneaky Spy who presented himself as another criminal would probably pose a considerably milder threat to Gunfellow, were Gunfellow to have anything to do with the killing.

Percy followed Gunfellow  into the bushes, with the gun still trained on him. He would tell Gunfellow of his main interest soon enough. However, having discovered that the man had definitely committed another crime which was totally unrelated to the murder of Alicia Valtos, Percy decided to recover the stolen items while the going was so good. He would state his true intentions later, with a blunt accusation, and study the man's reaction to it. For the moment, his task was to recover the loot.

The Sneaky Spy waited outside the cave, while Gunfellow wandered in to collect his ill-gotten gain. The cave had only one obvious entrance. Percy used the red pen to illuminate part of the way. It had been easy enough for Gunfellow to locate the cave by the light of the moon. It took Gunfellow ten minutes to come back into the illuminated front of the cave.

"Sorry I took so long. I had trouble finding it in the dark."

"Which was a safer problem than that of my following you into a cave that only you would remember, even with a torch. Just put it on the ground in front of you, and step back a few paces."

Gunfellow obeyed, and Percy kept an eye and a gun on the man, until he had picked up the sackload of goods.

"Now Gunfellow, all you need to do is drive me back to your house," he said, "so that I can take back the guns that you confiscated earlier."

 

Percy followed the man back into his house. He was told where to look for his tranquiliser guns, and still held Gunfellow at gunpoint until he had pocketed one of them, and then he pointed the other tranquiliser gun at Gunfellow, and transferred the ordinairy weapon to his pocket. Percy preferred to be using a temporary weapon, rather than a permanently lethal one.

All that remained was to hold Gunfellow at bay, until he had a written copy of the owner's address, so that he could return the jewellery and money, and then leave.

Gunfellow went into the study with a torch, produced a pen and some paper, and wrote down the address.

"Interesting how you remember addresses like that, isn't it?" said Gunfellow, and handed the paper to Percy.

"Indeed it is, and even more interesting that a man with your handwriting and your build and height should happen to know that address at all. I'm not a burglar. I never was. Have you ever considered that it might have been I who described you in the papers shortly after that night? What you didn't foresee is that I could have followed you here and decided to get the precious jewellery and the cash back. You can tell the police whatever you like about me, but you are the one in the soup."

"Before you do this to me, there is a document in this cupboard which might change your mind."

Gunfellow turned around slowly, and the turn was not a 180 degree turn, but a 360 degree turn. When it was completed, Gunfellow had a gun in his hand, that was already pulling on the trigger.

It was the sack of treasures that saved the Sneaky Spy, until he had leapt behind the desk.

"That's two shots literally in the bag," said Percy, as Gunfellow positioned himself behind the door to the hallway, leaving an eye and a gun hand still in the room with Percy.

"Well I didn't think you would know that I had the gun. I always take it with me in a holster when I go out on a heist. But I made some careless mistakes last time, so I didn't want to be caught with the gun on my way home from Lindfield Rocks. The solution was simple. I took off the holster and left it in the cave with the loot. Now it's left me four more chances to hit you."

"And you hung onto the torch, Gunfellow, living up to your nickname again. How clever. Don't forget my torch though. Shall we stay where we are in this stalemate, each hoping that the other will run out of batteries before the dawn breaks?"

"Why don't you just give me the loot, and I will let you go?"

"You cannot afford to do that. I know what you did, and I've got every opportunity to tell the police."

Percy waited for the reply, staring across at the room's one and only window.

"Well I can't afford to lose out on this one at all. So I'll just wait until that fake red pen of yours does run out. It's half past one now, and my large batteries are almost brand new. I'll have my torch shining on you, and you cannot possibly fire your gun through this door. I've got the hallway all around me. You're stuck in the room."

"But not for long," thought Percy, as he rapidly lifted that desk from the floor, still positioning it as a shield, and threw it at the slightly open door. He saw Gunfellow's hand disappearing behind the door, and then the desk crashed through the door.

The Sneaky Spy was already throwing a chair through the window, and preparing to leap through the opening that it made.

As he bounded through the window, he scraped his right arm on a stubborn piece of glass that had not been dislodged by the chair. There was no time to worry about that now. Gunfellow would be either recovering from the impact of the desk against the door, or having dodged it completely he would be running  outside to deal with Percy.

"The neighbours might have slept through those two shots, but the crashes I just caused will have them out of their slumber-sacks in no time at all. I don't really feel like explaining all this. So I will have to get out of here fast. Gunfellow's not likely to tell the police anything," thought Percy, as he ran out into the street, still holding onto the sack, which he had successfully carried with him through the window, " but if I get seen by anybody else, it will look as though I really did burgle Skilton's house."

 

*          *          *          *

 

Ingrid Castlecove had decided that dinner was an excellent idea. The small supply of snacks consumed at the Valtos party before the murder were hardly sufficient for a fully grown girl, especially one as big as Ingrid. She drove the car to the service station, and bought some food for herself, and decided to save some food for Percy, which meant buying him something that could still be eaten and enjoyed hours later.

 

*          *          *          *

 

So Ingrid returned with the food to the meeting place and ate the hamburgers that she had purchased for herself.

Ingrid waited for Percy.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Ingrid then went on to eat Percy's food, and waited for Percy, promising herself to buy something else for him when he returned. As she sat in the car, she realised that the waiting was not only boring. It was frustrating. What if something went wrong, and Percy didn't come back? She found herself wishing another tiny man would show up and unintentionally volunteer himself to be her next course.

"Now don't think like that, Ingrid," she told herself, "Percy has never failed to save himself in the past. I shall just have to endure the waiting. He would not think me much use, if I snuck back there and got caught."

 

*          *          *          *

 

Ingrid Castlecove waited and waited.

 

*          *          *          *

 

At last she saw Percy running towards the car with a large sack slung over his shoulder. She started the engine, and waited for him to climb into the passenger seat at the front.

"Darling, I'll just have to tell you how glad I am that you waited," said Percy, as the car drove away from the car park, "What's this? Hamburger wrappers, empty chips packets, empty bags that originally held lollies...Did you eat all this? You're as bad as me!"

"Well I was going to save half of it for you, but you took so long that I ate the rest of it, just to relieve the monotony of it all."

"You wouldn't have complained of monotony if you had been with me, and I'm glad you weren't. I'm not quite ready to seek sustenance yet. I want to drop this sack-load of trinkets and treasures off at a certain address, before anything else happens. Skilton certainly has a wicked housemate."

 

*          *          *          *

 

It was a simple matter of creeping along the path and depositing a certain sack on the front veranda of the house at the address on Gunfellow's sheet of paper.

From behind the dashboard of a car in the street, a man watched Percy deliver his load, and the same man started up his car shortly afterwards and followed Percy and Ingrid from a distance, until he saw them park outside 98 Burnseid Street Wahroonga and wander towards the house.

The man then drove his car to Wahroonga Station, and made a telephone call.

"Hello mate, it's me, Nathan. Shortly after you rang, I saw the guy drop his sack on my porch...Yes, I watched him from the street and followed them like you said. It was a great idea to tell that guy that my address was that of the robbery victim. Some really tall girl was driving a car which he got back into. So I followed him back towards Hornsby, but he didn't go anywhere near your place. I think he's a bit more of  a concern than we thought. Those two have gone into the house of that dame you did the dirty on with the stuff in her medicine bottle."

"You mean Valtos' wife. That explains it all. He wasn't after the loot in the first place. He thought Skilton, who owns my house, was the one who killed the Valtos dame. So he came here to look for clues. Finding out about the robbery was just a bonus to him, when I fed him that story to get him off my back," said Gunfellow.

"Well look Ashford, I don't want anyone finding that bag of loot on my veranda. Can you pick it up, put it back in another hiding spot, and then meet me at the corner of Burnseid Street and Eastern Road in a couple of hours?"

"I think I had better do just that," said Gunfellow, to whom we can now refer as Ashford, and put down the receiver.

He felt fortunate that he had thought to save the stolen property by writing down the address of an old criminal associate.

"It's a good thing I still had his phone number," thought Ashford to himself, as he set off to collect a sack of valuable items which had done several journeys in the last few hours. 

 

Percy and Ingrid had to wake up Valtos, in order to be let into the house. Skilton had agreed to sleep the night at Valtos' house, because Valtos had protested that he couldn't bear the thought of a night alone in a house where his wife was so recently murdered.

"Don't wake Skilton," said Percy, as he stepped into the house, "I may have some answers for you soon, but I think we need our sleep first, and Ingrid and I would prefer to have ours here. That way, you will have more protection if the murderer decides that another death in your family would suit his requirements even more so."
Their voices had awoken Skilton.

Valtos showed Ingrid into his spare bedroom, and offered to Percy the room that Skilton sometimes slept in on the occasions that he stayed the night at Valtos's house. He would share that room with Skilton. Percy did not consider it at all wise to allow Skilton to return to his house and confront a frantic Gunfellow.

"I wonder how Gunfellow's going to explain a broken window, which offers a view of a broken door with a desk wedged against its remains," thought Percy.

He went to say goodnight, at half past three in the morning, to Ingrid.

"Percy, you still haven't told me what the files in that study revealed to you about Gunfellow, as you so appropriately named him."

"I cannot be totally sure that my wild theory is correct yet. If I save my idea, your mind might be fresh enough to come up with an even better solution to this complex mystery."

"It's good to see you've got a notion in your thoughts, that I might be useful."

"Oh Ingrid you know you are! You would be useful for all the quiet and  moral support alone, but who got me away with that loot tonight. I can't even reliably drive a car. Without your help, I'd be a hopeless man adventurer."

"He loves me, he needs my car, he loves me, he needs my car," said Ingrid, miming the movements of a person tearing petals from a flower.

"He actually performed several Sneaky Spy missions without a car, before you came back into his life, and he actually loved you years before you got your driver's license, when you were twelve and he was ten," said Percy, and kissed her neck, which was just level with his eyesight.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Ashford met Nathan at the corner of Eastern Road and Burnseid Street at a quarter past four in the morning. They drove away from the main road and parked their cars outside 62 Burnseid Street.

"Did you hide it well?" asked Nathan.

"No problems. Now you've got to get into Valtos's house and kill all four of them with this."

Ashford handed a gun with a silencer to Nathan.

"There can't be any witnesses left. If you see anyone from the party, kill them too. I'll give you plenty of ammunition."

"Why don't you help? You must have another one of these."

"Skilton knows me. If you bungle it and get away, it won't matter, but I would be recognised and reported to the police."

"Alright then. What are you going to do?"

"I've got to get home and try to make what that guy did tonight look like an ordinairy burglary, which means moving a few things, ringing the police and telling a few constructive lies. Just don't botch up your end of it, please."

"Don't worry. If I'm going to kill people, I don't plan on letting any witnesses live to spill the beans. I still get half of that loot, don't I?"
"Of course. Now get going before sunup. You'll need this key too. It should open any door in the house."
"How did you get that?"

"Skilton lives with me, but he is also Valtos's butler. I borrowed his key in the night, and had it copied by a locksmith friend of mine. It was back on his key ring before he even woke up and missed it."

The bedrooms in the Valtos residence were all at the back of the house and adjacent to each other. Nathan was able to open the front door without awakening any of his intended victims.

However, there were some things that Nathan did not know. Firstly, he did not know that Percy Dale was  a resident of Burnseid Street. Had he known, he would have been able to see many more options, rather than merely the essential requirement that he break into the Valtos residence and murder everybody inside the house. He could, for example have ambushed Percy in his own house at number 66.

Secondly, Nathan did not know that Percy was a man who took no chances. The Sneaky Spy had instructed Valtos to provide three plastic cups, each filled with coins from Valtos' s petty cash and spare change. Each of them was to close their door and then balance the cup-load of coins on the top of the inner doorhandle.

"But why don't we do it to the outer doors of the house as well?" Ingrid had asked.

Percy's answer had been convincing enough:

"There's no need. I'll hear Gunfellow if he tries to stop us, which I am sure he will. If I'm right about him, he knows the address of this house, and he will be coming back to do away with Skilton and Valtos. What he doesn't know is that I am a friend of Irwin's, rather than a man with the task of recovering a sack of stolen valuables."

Percy had assured them that he would hear any attempt to force a doorlock long before the lock had been forced. Percy had also explained that locking each other inside the rooms would only prevent them from easily capturing the man.

What Percy did not know was that Ashford knew of Percy's involvement, and his return to 98 Burnseid Street, and that Ashford had provided a friend with a key, in order to gain silent entry to Valtos' house. Neither did Percy know of Ashford's recovery of the stolen treasures, but this was of no immediate relevance to the situation at Valtos' house.

 

*          *          *          *

 

The thing that woke the three of them was a clatter of falling coins, and the sound of rapid movement coming from Valtos' own room. Terrified at the unexpected discovery of his presence, Nathan used the silencer once, and a man who might have mourned for many a day would never again concern himself with the death of his wife.

Percy was out of his bed in an instant, with a tranquiliser gun in his hand. He had no time to make deductions about the reason for the man's ability to have entered the house without making any noise. 

One of the other three was dead.

Ingrid?

No.

She was in the room to the right of his own. Skilton was safe in the room with the Sneaky Spy. So it had to be Valtos. This time the killer would be caught. Percy crept silently across the floor and stood straight against the wall, on the side of the door which was nearest to the doorhandle.

"If he comes in here next, I'll get him before he's opened the door far enough to see who is to be shot next. If he goes towards Ingrid's room, I'll have my door open Gunfellow tranquilized before he knows what's happening. It all depends on whether Gunfellow looks for Skilton in this bedroom or the next," thought the Sneaky Spy.

Nathan turned the handle of Percy's door, and prepared to murder the butler within or his friends.

"I had to stay around and finish the job. Somehow, that noise didn't wake them up," thought Nathan, "or even if it did, they won't be expecting this."

It was a somewhat mistaken Nathan, who collapsed on the floor, as the horizontal movement of a tranquilizer dart followed the falling of a cup of coins. Percy turned on the light, and noticed that Skilton was awake.

"Welcome back from the land of dreams," said the Sneaky Spy, "but I'm afraid Valtos is not going to wake up. He's been murdered, and the desperate idiot on the floor must have thought it worth doing you over as well, even after the noise that Valtos' coins must have made."

Percy looked down at his victim, and realised that it was not the man whom he had always called Gunfellow. He searched the man's pockets, and found two things: a supply of ammunition for the gun with the silencer, and a key. To confirm his immediate suspicions, Percy wandered out to the front door, and tried the key in the lock.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Come on, you've had enough sleep," said Percy, slapping the man on the face.

Nine o'clock. Sunday morning.

"Yeah ... what?" said Nathan.

"You work for a man named Ashford, don't you?" said the Sneaky Spy, "I've read the files in his study, and I know all about him.  I've got a more appropriate name for your naughty associate. Where is he, right now?"

"That's my secret."

"Has Gunfellow Ashford told you what it's like to be in hot water? I mean literally, in this case. You're going to stand under a scalding shower until I find out where he is."

Nathan's resistance promptly faded away.

"Well he's gone home to disguise the mess you made, when you and the girl came into his house before."

Percy was not sure whether it would be wise to let Skilton listen in on these discussions yet. So he had asked the man to go out to buy a morning paper and some snacks from the milkbar. Sending him home to Ashford would be the equivalent of murdering Skilton himself, unless Skilton actually turned out to be in on the murder after all.

Ingrid had secretly followed Skilton, just in case Skilton either was one of the guilty parties or ran into trouble initiated by them.

Percy put Nathan through a few more questions, and satisfied himself that the man knew nothing else of any importance. He left Nathan securely bound and gagged, and went to meet Ingrid and Skilton in the street.

"Your girlfriend followed me for no reason, if you think I hadn't noticed," said Skilton, as he returned from the car with Ingrid at his side. He was still angry at the way all of Percy's self-imposed involvement had failed to prevent his master's death, thus destroying his career as the man's butler forever.

"Sorry Anthony, but I wanted to have you watched, possibly for your own safety, until I knew for sure that you had nothing to do with your employer's wife's death. Nate has squealed, and I'll spill the beans to everyone soon enough. Keep an eye on Nathan until we get back, will you? We've just got to go and take care of Nathan's associate, and then we'll be back here with Inspector Higgins, who will have no choice but to accept your innocence."

Percy and Ingrid climbed into Ingrid's car and drove to the nearest public telephone booth. Percy made a brief telephone call.

"Hello. Can I speak to Inspector Higgins, please?.... Good morning, Inspector. Glad to see you're doing the Sunday shift. Well, I have some information for you. Valtos has been murdered in the night by the same person who tried to pop me off as well as the butler. I caught the killer, and he has confirmed my suspicions about the innocence of Anthony Skilton. If you want to catch the man who framed Skilton, just go to the following address and arrest a man named Ashford. He should be the sole resident at the moment. Bring him here, and I'll tell you the whole story. I'll be at Valtos' house."

Percy saw no reason to explain that he had left the house in order to make a private telephone call, just to be on the safe side.

"Alright then," said the Inspector, "but whether you're right or wrong about this, I might have to have a word with you about some of your methods. It would have been better to have an officer of the law present when you were interrogating the man who murdered Valtos."

Percy told Higgins where to find Skilton's address, and naturally refered to it as Ashford's address. He was saving all of the special surprises until he had everybody in Valtos'  house together.

 

Percy and Ingrid sat in the car, which was now parked outside the Valtos residence.

"Would you like to hear a story?" asked Percy.

"Why not?" returned Ingrid.

"Once upon a time, there was a chartered accountant who worked for a company called Lollypop Super Sales. He was a very clever accountant, and also a potentially clever fiddler. However, he was a well-behaved fellow, and he didn't believe in doing things like fiddling the accounting ledgers. So he didn't.

"The trouble was that this certain accountant, who went by the name of Archibald, had a secretary who was studying accountancy. She perpetrated a rather successful embezzlement, which left poor Archibald in the hot seat. The curious thing about the whole business was the secretary's motive. She could have swindled Lollypop Super Sales on a grand scale, but she chose only to rob them of a paltry pittance. It was later discovered that the secretary had her eye on Archibald's job, and had laid the blame at his feet in order to dissuade the Lollypop manager from allowing Archibald to continue with his current source of employment. Anyway, she might have been an aspiring young fiddler, but she was a poor liar, because she made a few fatal slips that gave her away."

"Why do I let you do this to me?"

"Because we love each other?"

"Yes, but you're going to have to tell me the missing links when the inspector arrives anyway. So I can listen to some more Sneaky Spy waffle, while we're filling in time."
"Sneaky Spy waffle?"

"Sneaky Spy waffle."

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Are you ready to explain all of this now?" asked the inspector, when they were all together in Valtos's living room.

"Certainly," said the Sneaky Spy, "It's all very simple actually. The person who killed Alicia Valtos knew that Anthony Skilton was a butler for the Valtos couple. It wasn't too difficult to find that out, because the killer was Ashford, who lived with Skilton. Yes, Gunfellow, I came to your house last night to check on some things that Skilton had told me, and I happened to bump into you. You've worked that one out for yourself, haven't you?" Admittedly it was a little breach of a certain law, but I had Skilton's best interests at heart at the time. I just had to be sure that he was telling the truth."

Skilton stared in shock at Ashford.

"How could you? What have you got against the Valtos couple? And what have you got against me?"

"Nothing in both cases," said the Sneaky Spy, "Ashford is just a little inclined to do terrible things, and you made the mistake of trusting him. Incidentally, Inspector, when I paid him a call last night, he also confessed to the robbery that was in the paper a few weeks ago, and showed me the loot. You might like to ask him later about the present location of the millions of dollars in jewellery and cash notes, that these two have got hidden away somewhere."
Higgins was amazed. He had arrested Ashford merely to hear Percy out on his own terms. Percy's talents, his persistence, and his devotion to Valtos' butler had taken his breath away.

He voiced his feelings.

"Well Percy, if I could interrupt you for a moment at this point, we'll need Nathan's confession in order to make this solution to the problem hold water, but that shouldn't be too difficult, since he cannot possibly deny his attempts to murder you, nor his sickening success with Irwin Valtos."

"So it's all sorted out then, or it will be when I'm finished telling my story," said the Sneaky Spy.

"Not quite," said the inspector, "I am aware, Mister Dale, that you acted out of a desire to help Anthony Skilton, and you seem to have made plenty good of it, having solved not one but two crimes. In future, however, I will not be inclined to show any leniency, or make any excuses for your breaking the law."

"I'm sure you won't," said the Sneaky Spy, "and now I will tell you the rest of it. The thing that threw me in the early stages of the development was a motive. Everything pointed to Skilton, because he stood to gain a butler's inheritance if he killed the Valtos couple. However, the other things that pointed to Skilton - the medical items in his coat - were too obvious. Nobody could be as ham-fisted as that. I was convinced that Skilton was being framed. But by whom? Valtos?

"The thought had occurred to me, but there was no motive there. I've known Irwin and Alicia for a long time, and I'm quite convinced that they enjoyed a successful marriage. Valtos was not a killer. Skilton was the most likely lead to follow. So I asked him a few things, and he told me that he had won a large lottery prize, and now had a large house of his own, and at the same time, a resultant problem. Skilton enjoyed his work, and wanted to keep on doing it, despite his newfound wealth. He's also had an endearing respect for Mr and Mrs Valtos.

"So I broke into his house, having asked Valtos to keep him here, and found a lottery prize notification letter, and a few other things too. The most important of these was Ashford here. I know that Ashford had an excellent reason to commit the murder, because I found something in Skilton's files that told me a little about Ashford's employment."

"Well you had no blasted right to be going through those files at all," said Ashford, "which means you might have been the sort of bloke to murder Valtos' wife yourself."

"Not at all, Ashford. You were well aware of the fact that the butler is often if not always the prime suspect in a murder at a stately home in which a butler is employed. This is because many a novelist has decided to have the owner of the the house leave it to the butler in his will. You knew that Valtos had done a similar thing for Skilton, because Skilton told you, and you set out to frame him."

"How's that supposed to help me? I'm not going to inherit Valtos's wealth by killing his wife."

"Of course you wouldn't, but you might Anger Valtos enough to motivate him to kill Skilton. You could always kill Skilton yourself, if that didn't work. To seal the lid on the case, you needed only to kill Valtos as well. That would stop any of them from enjoying the Valtos inheritance."
"But it still won't help me to get hold of it. The Valtos inheritance could be given to some distant relatives. If I were to get hold of it, I would be giving away my involvement in the murder I've been accused of."

"My accusation is a valid one. The thing that you have avoided discussing is the fact that you weren't interested in the Valtos inheritance. It was merely a convenient motive for Skilton, which people would believe, when you framed him. You didn't want to kill Skilton yourself. It would look too obvious. So you framed him for Alicia's murder, in order to frame Valtos for Skilton's death, or alternatively have Valtos kill Skilton out of mistaken desire for revenge."

"But why would I want to kill my fellow resident Skilton?"

"Because you are in a position to benefit from his death, much more in fact than Skilton could ever have benefited from receiving the Valtos inheritance. Skilton wanted to butle for an employer who had won his respect, but he also wanted a clean and well-managed house of his own, which he could already afford. Skilton really had no motive - despite the possible gain from the Valtos inheritance - because he was  already so wealthy that he had hired you to be his butler."

"Don't look so shocked, Ashford. The theory about the butler was right all along. As many people would automatically say 'the butler did it.' Higgins had it all worked out, except that he would have blamed the wrong butler. You see, I also found in your employer's filing cabinet some documentary evidence to the effect that Skilton was following his employer's example, and leaving his wealth to you. By the way, Anthony, am I right in assuming that you stayed on at Valtos's for the good company? You would have gladly butled for your own family if you had one, wouldn't you?"

"It's true," said Skilton, "I am an orphan. A wealthy orphan now, but nonetheless a lonely one."

"So you didn't have anyone else to leave your wealth to anyway, apart from Valtos, who had enough of his own."

"That's right, but I would have amended it if I had met such a person in time. I'll be amending it now. There's still a charity or two that would be more deserving of my wealth than Ashford."

"Well they might be getting a fair bit more now, because even though we had a guilty one committing the murder, I believe that the Valtos estate now goes to Anthony Skilton, who will be remembered in the historical law reports as a man who has unwittingly turned the tables on many a novelist, as well as the trusted employee who endeavoured unsuccessfully to discredit him. Inspector Higgins, I believe that you owe an apology and some legal assistance to an innocent butler!"

With the case out of the way, Percy wondered how he might convincingly be surprised by Ingrid after shrinking himself again. To go to her house again would be stretching coincidence. He waited until she gave him some advance notice of a place that she would be attending without him.

She said that she wanted to shop for his birthday present in the city and then take a walk through the Botanical Gardens.

“I love that nice pathway that goes towards Government House’s borderline fence,” she said, which gave him a way to identify a good place to which he might teleport and get ‘caught.’

He waited for her in the garden beside that path at the estimated time of her arrival. One thing was different. This time there were several people in the gardens, mainly housewives whose husbands were at work. She would not be able to stop and talk to him. He guessed that she would most likely put him into her shopping bag until she could find a solitary spot to announce his fate.

He saw Ingrid approaching and let her see him. She walked over, looked around, and then picked him up quickly and lifted him up above her head, tilted her head back, opened her mouth and popped him straight in.

“Not even a lick,” he thought, “She sure solved the problem of avoiding being noticed.”

She walked for a while with him in her mouth, and then gulped him down.

 

That night she came to his house, snuggled up into bed with him, and licked him suddenly.

“It’s funny,” she said, “I can’t think what you remind me of, but you taste like something else I’ve had lately.”

Ingrid was becoming suspicious. To hide his secret, he would have to prepare the ruse of his Sneaky Spy career.

 

Nightclubs, drugs, prostitution and assault were only a few of the subjects of the Sneaky Spy's thoughts, as he walked along one of the tranquil streets of Wahroonga. It was sometime between one and two o'clock in the afternoon, he knew, having glanced at his watch before he set out on a brief walk around his home suburb.

"Nightclubs, prostitution, drugs, assault and many other things tend to make up the night life of Kings Cross," thought the Sneaky Spy, "The most innocent of them all might appear to be the nightclub element... if the chances of admiring the fashions of the star performers weren't nullified by the complete absence of those fashions. Yet what God refuses to sanction is taken as normal and acceptable by the law. Well I think that a night at the Cross would prove to be sufficiently full of action for the Sneaky Spy."

He spent the afternoon playing chess with his computer opponent, and then showered and shaved, before loading his pockets with an assortment of pens which were not pens. He concealed a few other small objects on his person, having dressed in black trousers, a double breasted black jacket with white pin stripes, an indigo cravat with white paisley lines and a white shirt.

He enjoyed his home cooked dinner of chicken and fried rice, and then caught two trains in succession, changing at Wynyard, which saw him arrive at Kings Cross station. Walking along the Kings Cross Road, he soon encountered one of those nightclubs which had plagued his thoughts earlier that day.

"Would you like to come in and see the show?" offered the wearer of a dinner suit.

"No decent minded God fearing Christian would ever sentence his eyes to the unholy spectacle you've got in there," said the Sneaky Spy, as two passers by turned their heads, having noticed his brazen insolence. At positions just beyond the cufflinks of a dinner jacket, two strong hands gripped the Sneaky Spy's double breasted jacket.

"You're bad for business, buster!"

"Am I really?" interjected the Sneaky Spy, looking hurt, "Then I must have achieved something."

"Yes. You're causing a stir."

There were two noticeable instants worth mentioning at this point in the story; and they were chronologically adjacent to each other. In the first instant, the Sneaky Spy's ridge hand (the edge of his hand on his thumb's side) was still beside his body. In the next instant the ridge hand was connecting with the temple of the doorman. After the passing of these two instants, Percy simultaneously shoved the man's upper body backwards, while reaping his right leg out from under him. The shoulder of the dinner suit collided with the footpath in a manner which jarred the pelvis of its wearer.

The Sneaky Spy continued his walk as if nothing had happened to disturb it. In a quieter part of the street he saw a girl who could have been no more than twenty years of age. She could only have been preparing to solicit one sort of business. A strange chill came over the Sneaky Spy, as he saw her client walking away with her.

What could he do?

People in such occupations lived desperate empty lives. Often their entry into poverty was no fault of their own. Even their familiarity with an environment such as Kings Cross might have been attributed to the influences of parasites, pimps and drug merchants. For several hundred dollars each week, people could become so engrossed in the effects of heroin, that they could forget their troubles. Those hundreds of dollars could not be produced in the conventional ways of earning money, and the Sneaky Spy reflected that the world's oldest profession was also perhaps its saddest.

Percy Dale could perform astounding feats of stealth in the dark, even on a dimly lit street. To the untrained eye - and even to many of the trained eyes - he was merely an insignificant portion of Sydney's night life. To himself, he was a frustrated onlooker, frustrated, because he knew that following the new and temporary pair back to an apartment or townhouse would not enable him to interfere. As he shadowed their movements mechanically, resigning himself to the futility of what he was doing, he thought back to the days of his childhood. Those were days of playing with toys, friends and neighbours; and days of rushing through his homework so that he could enjoy the evening in the innocent ways that a child enjoys an evening.

Why could it not have gone on like that?

Why did these awful things happen, which prevented a person's adulthood from being nothing more than an advanced childhood?
He saw the two of them enter a small house with two stories - and probably at least as many tenants - after they had turned back around into Bayswater Road.

"And that ends the party for now," he thought, "I am not supposed to disturb the evening."

Reluctantly he walked past the house and saw a young boy walking along the footpath towards him. Percy was able to win a child's trust with a minimum of effort, and the smile that he showed the lad was no exception.

"Isn't it a bit late for you to be away from home?" he asked.

"I'm not," said the boy, "That's my home there."

He pointed to the house where the girl and her client had gone.

"What's your name?" he asked the lad.

"Samuel."

"Well I'm Percy, and I just wonder why you're not safely inside, in bed."

"My big sister brings...visitors home. She doesn't mind if I go out at night time."
"But it's ten o'clock. What about your parents?"

"They're not still alive. My sister looks after me," said the boy.

"My parents aren't alive either," said Percy gently, "but when do these visitors go home?"

"Sometimes they stay all night. So I just go in and tuck myself into bed."

"Do you get enough sleep for school?"

"I don't go to school. My sister looks after me at home."
"So why do you like to go out at night?"

"To find some friends. There's not much to do on my own."

"I'll be your friend, if you like," said the Sneaky Spy, as the Percy Dale within him fought back an army of approaching tears, with at least a temporary claim to victory.

"Thanks. Would you like to come in and play cards?"

"What about the visitors?" asked Percy, knowing of only one.

"We can go into my room."

"Well alright. We'll play cards for a while, if you promise to go to bed when we've finished," said Percy.

The boy agreed and led the Sneaky Spy into his room. For a while they played fish, switch and gin rummy, until Percy insisted that eleven o'clock was definitely time for them both to go to sleep.

"Please don't go," said Samuel frantically, "My sister doesn't love me in the mornings, only in the afternoons. Can't you stay until morning?"

"Why doesn't she love you in the mornings? How do you know?"

"She's weird in the mornings. She...," and the boy went on to describe in the language of a primary school child the impressions that his sister gave in the mornings. Percy recognised the signs of a drug addict and raged inwardly.

"Alright Samuel," he said quietly, "I'll stay."

The boy produced a spare pillow. Percy put it on the end of a couch in the room and slept the night off, until an angry female voice woke him.

"What's this man here for, Samuel?"

"I asked him to stay," said the boy.

"He was rather lonely," said Percy, "Do you mind if I talk to you?"
"Alright. In my room. Samuel, you go and get your breakfast."

She led the Sneaky Spy into her bedroom.

"I'm glad to see that your customer left the place tidy when he left," said Percy.

"That's my business."

"As is your dope addiction, I'm sure."

"I'm not an-"

"Addict? Why not? Because you haven't gotten around to injecting this morning's round into your system yet," said Percy in a voice that was firm but too soft for the boy to overhear.

"I didn't invite you into my house."

"Your house?"

"Downstairs is mine. I pay rent here."

"Yes. I saw the beginnings of your effort to earn this week's payment. I'm sure it's also needed to pay off something else, an awful something else which leaves a boy of ..."

"Nine," she offered testily.

"Nine trying to fathom the dichotomy of sisterly attitudes towards him, because she's too doped up to love him in the mornings. What happened to your parents?"

"They ... knew things that they shouldn't have known. The drug lords got them. I was only fourteen then, and Samuel was an infant. They didn't bother with us. Can't you see that it's too much for me to do all this myself? At least this way I can forget it for a few hours a day."

"At what horrific cost? Do you think God created you, to have you do that to yourself every night and this every morning?"
"Do you think I wanted to have things this way? I was just offered a chance to try some for free,  then a bit more. Soon I was addicted. It's been several months now."

Percy felt a bitter defeat close at hand. The very subject of prostitution was one which he would have given anything to have locked permanently out of the private concerns of his mind; but there was no avoiding it this time. Maybe the girl would lead herself to the end of the road to ruin, but it could not be allowed to happen to the boy. He would state his intentions to her immediately, but a conflict would soon eventuate between the Sneaky Spy and Samuel's sister.

"What's your name?"

"Eleanor."

"Well Eleanor, why not break your habit? I can get professional help for you, and protection too, if you're worried about the pushers whom you have been financing."

"I can't give up. Who's going to feed the boy?"

"I can take him to an orphanage, at least until you're over some of this."

"You can't. Now leave me in peace. I have to pay again tomorrow, or I won't get more of the stuff."

"I'm going to wipe out your suppliers. Your wisest option is to get away before you go down with them. You can stay here if you like, but the boy won't be with you."
"You're not taking him away. You've no right to."

"I've no right to leave him here, with no school, no future, and your unholy activity going on under his very same roof every night. Would you like to telephone the police, explain this entire situation, and ask them to prevent me from finding a new home for Samuel?"

The girl stared silently at him, struggling with a tornado of terrifying thoughts, which battled within her mind, all competing for the position of first priority.

Percy felt cold, cruel and objective. He regretted the circumstances, but not his choice of action. The alternative promised the worst of existences for Samuel as time went on.

"What does this matter to you?" she sobbed, "What is your angle in this?"

"It matters, because I am opposed to the things I see in this wretched hybrid suburb of yours, where some dine in fine restaurants at the foot of luxurious hotels, pretending to be oblivious to strip shows, street kids, soliciting, alcohol abuse and the needle. Those with power entertain the snobbish refusal to support these ventures, and yet they don't lift a finger to take these rackets apart. Millionaires and homeless children, all taking in the same city lights, are unable to work together to put the mess right. My angle, young Eleanor, is terror. Oh, I have a Christian message for the walking weed carrier who supplies your morning amusement package, but we both know that before he'll hear my message, I'll have to heave him onto the pavement and step on his overstuffed tum tum. You may have read something about me in those days when I gained more fame than I would have preferred. I am unofficially known as the Sneaky Spy."
The mention of the name might well have deposited a whole hive of bees in her ears.

"The Sneaky Spy!...So it was you who…."

 

 

"Why don't you help me lay a trap for your pushers, so I can bag the naughty ones at the top?"

"You'd let me keep Samuel?"

"I always intended to let you keep him, but the orphanage is the best thing for him until I have done something to help you. Can't you see that? Take a risk, for both your sakes, and please trust me. You must have been underage when you started this."

"Alright, Sneaky Spy. So I'll trust you, but I'll want a fix."
"And I'll want your keys. You and Samuel are leaving today. Tonight I'll sleep here, after I've taken care of you two. Pack your things, and consider this your last week of rent payment too, already paid in full. I'll meet your pusher in time, but not the way he hoped."

"He doesn't meet me here. There's a tower at the end of the street, with a staircase on one side, and the street behind it, and two large drops to go with the other sides. I meet him at the tower and buy my stuff just before the sun comes up. But if you do this, they'll find us, if they have to search the whole city."

"They'll have my apologies, but you'll be in the suburbs. There's a drug rehabilitation service in Hornsby. I'll do all I can to help you, but please don't try to set me up. It would be all the worse for the naughty ones in the long run."
"I won't," she said, "Hey, I'll call Samuel and explain."

"The lad responded to her call.

"Samuel, we're going away from here. Percy is going to take us somewhere better. I'll have to be on my own for a while; but things will be better soon."

"Do you mind leaving?" asked Percy.

"Not really. I don't like it here much," said Samuel.

"Can I help you to pack your things up, and carry them to the station for you?" Percy offered.

Samuel accepted.

"You get the bags out and start," said Eleanor, "and Percy will join you soon."
"Take it you rented this place furnished," said the Sneaky Spy, as Samuel returned to the next room.

"Yes, it means we've only about three suitcases worth of things between us."

"I'll carry two of them, and your train fares will come out of Sneaky Spy proceeds. I have done things like this before."

"With drug pushers?"

"Oh yes. Well I might go and see how Samuel's doing."

 

*          *          *          *

 

Eleanor became desperate for more of the drug which had dominated her, as the train travelled the last few suburbs of the North Shore line. Percy had flushed the remainder of it down the toilet, and telephoned Ingrid Castlecove to meet them at Hornsby station, and explained the situation before they left Eleanor's Kings Cross rental residence.

They alighted at Hornsby, and Ingrid was entrusted with the care of Samuel.

"Explain things when you get to Larmont Orphanage, Ingrid darling. I'm afraid that Eleanor is in a bad way already. I'll have to get her to the centre fast."

Larmont Orphanage was geographically close to Percy's own home, and housed two other young boys whom he had befriended in earlier adventures. These were Kyair of Venice and Rory Freemond, a former victim of child abuse. It was the logical place to offer to Samuel as a home free from drugs and prostitution.

The Sneaky Spy loaded all the bags into Ingrid's car and watched them drive out of sight, waving gently at the boy, as he maintained a reassuring smile. The girl at his side was silently showing signs of frantic panic.

"It's only a few blocks to walk, but we'll use a taxi anyway," he said, and he was soon introducing her to a government social worker, whose purpose would have been better served if the activities of Kings Cross had been held in check by another government body known as the law.

"Percy darling," said Ingrid over dinner, "I like what we're doing, but we cannot help all the victims of these horrible situations. If only it wasn't like that in town."

"I'm going to address that problem in a way that the Sneaky Spy hasn't moved before," said Percy.

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm not going to spend the rest of my life picking Samuels and Eleanors up out of messes like that, while the naughty ones do their worst to cause more and more of the same. I'm going to start a war of terror that the police seem to be unable to initiate, and that the government seems to be unwilling to support."

"You cannot take that sort of thing on alone."

"In the absence of any visits from Eleanor's landlord, I should have no trouble installing myself in her quarters until my watch alarm awakens me at twenty to sunup in the morning. I'll sleep in my clothes, which means I will only have to take a one minute walk to the tower and meet the pusher. Eleanor told me his name on the train. It's Miles Blackshaw."

"So you're leaving soon?"

"Yes, loaded to the pockets with a miniature arsenal that will have unforgettable effects on the naughty ones," said Percy.

"I had better let you go then," said Ingrid.

"We still have a little time," said the Sneaky Spy, "for this."

Their faces were already only two inches apart. It had been interesting to Percy, talking to a beautiful girl at that distance. Now their lips were meeting in a kiss that he would remember and treasure until he returned from his angle of terror, that he had mentioned to Eleanor that morning. The feeling of frustration which had invaded his heart the night before was now replaced by the yearning for action. The Sneaky Spy was pleased. Now the problem was vulnerable and of a form that he could attack relentlessly. He was far more comfortable with his preparations to traumatize the drug lords of Kings Cross, than he had been with the helpless tour of its streets twenty-four hours earlier.

"Well Ingrid, if Larmont has any need to call us about Samuel, then they can dial this number and speak to you. The same goes for the rehabilitation centre, making us the main link between little brother and big sister at the moment. I'd best be off for the station."

"You might need your energy for the adventure. Why don't I drive you to the station?"

"Thank you," said the Sneaky Spy with the grateful voice of an appreciative eight year old boy who has been offered his favourite food by the babysitter.

Soon Ingrid watched him riding out of Wahroonga, until the train was out of sight.

 

*          *          *          *

 

The lights at Ordinairy Man Manor had all been switched off. There was not a sound in any room of the house. Ingrid Castlecove began to regret more than ever before, that she had chosen the teenage vandal over Percy … because it might well have driven him into this lifestyle. Yet the same lifestyle had brought him to her rescue and brought them together this time.

How she longed for a tasty little man to take her mind off things now. She felt she could use a good chase too. They’d all been too easy to catch.

 

*          *          *          *

 

The Sneaky Spy settled down in Samuel's bed. He could have used Eleanor's, but Samuel's was large enough. A mention of his dreams including all their detailed nonesuch events would only distract from the tone of this tale. He awoke at five thirty, and made his way out to the street.

"Well it looks as if even the infamous Kings Cross nightlife does pause for the occasional breather," he observed, and he approached the tower, climbed over a fence and stepped between an X-shaped structure, which was one of many that ran around the cylinder-shaped tower. The man who must have been Miles Blackshaw moved aside, hoping to avoid Percy's interest until Eleanor arrived.

"It's alright Blackshaw," said the Sneaky Spy, producing a tranquiliser dart gun, which the other would assume to be loaded with bullets, and pushing Miles against the base of the tower.

"What is this?" asked Miles.

"An apt question," said the Sneaky Spy, removing a large wad of currency form Blackshaw's coat pocket, "What is this?"
"It's not yours. Hey!"

The Sneaky Spy's hand had also located a tight plastic container, a small bag packed securely with a white mixture, which to a child's eye might well have been icing sugar or salt.

"Well my answer to your question could be a citizen's arrest," said the Sneaky Spy, "but it all depends on how cooperative you are."

"You gotta give that back, Mister. My boss would kill me, if I failed to deliver his contracts and collect on them for him."

"Well you're not going to deliver your filthy life ruining insult to the contents of a council garbage depot, or collect anything; but if you want to be safe from your seniors, you would do well to tell me everything I need to know to nab them. I want the best possible tip-offs, because I might fail, Miles, and that would give them the chance to deal with the fact that you failed."

"I don't know how the stuff gets into Sydney, Sir. I only deliver it. I get it from the big house and bring it here. So I'm a middle man between the users and the suppliers."

"And you'll give me this address?"

"Yes, but you couldn't crash a place like that."

"I could crash a fortress," said the Sneaky Spy.

He acquired and memorized the address of the house. It was a waterside mansion near Balmoral Beach.

"So why do you do this, Miles?" asked the Sneaky Spy.

"I need the money. You know what times are like, don't you?"

"Yes. They're even tougher when girls have to sell themselves to pay for a habit and support their young brothers."

"But you'll go easy on me, now that I've talked, won't you?"

The Sneaky Spy answered the request with a movement which returned his gun to its holster and left his hand in the position to back-fist the drug pusher in the head. With both hands free, the Sneaky Spy seized the man firmly and then forced him to strip down to his underwear.

"You can buy your clothes back from a charity second hand clothing store, if you ever earn honest money," he said, "and if you can find which outlet in all of Sydney to which I donate them."

Even after all he had done to Miles Blackshaw, Percy regretted having left the man free to walk the streets. The trouble was, that handing him over to the law would cause too many complications which would not have helped Percy's situation. He wanted to ruin them properly, without any police interference.

Percy Dale could never have killed Blackshaw either. Christian adventurers did not do that sort of thing.

Percy telephoned Canton Algor from Eleanor's house and arranged to approach the criminal's mansion in the Algorithm, Canton's boat.

He met Canton in the city, borrowed the keys to the boat and then took a taxi ride past the mansion on the roads, to get a rough approximation of where the house was. Matching the number of the street gave him the front of the house. It was a white brick house, with dark blue window frames, and Percy decided that it would be safest to be approaching the house by water, and a simple climb up the rocks.

He had a small cigarette lighter in his pocket. Lest any of Percy's readers concern themselves with the likelihood of his taking up the habit of destroying his lungs in slow motion, the writer assures them that the lighter was there for the purpose of destroying any more containers of drugs, rather than introducing Percy to nicotine. He returned to Middle Harbour, and boarded the Algorithm at the Spit.

He could see no reason not to attempt the visit in the daytime. If anybody chose to interfere, he might even enlist their aid in ruining the drug business. The other factor to consider was the use of daylight to give him a full view of the layout of the house. Once night had fallen, the people who knew their mansion better than a stranger would have the advantage of anyone who also could not see it.

"Well there it is," he thought at last, "and it seems as though it would be quite legal to walk around those rocks from the beach. So I shan't be doing anything risky until I jump over the back wall."

The Sneaky Spy brought the Algorithm close to the rocks, and thought about the beauty of that craft.

"Don't worry Canton, for I shall return it to you safely," said Percy to himself.

He left the boat and stepped over the rocks, apparently disinterested in everything around him, while actually taking in the absence of anyone on the back terrace of the house, as a sight that pleased him. He reached the wall and vaulted over it, landing quietly on the balls of his feet. He crossed a wide terrace and came to rest outside an open back window.

"Flyscreens do keep the burglars discouraged, but summer is the season for other housebreakers today," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he took out the knife and cut the screen with what usually looked like a pen.

He entered what appeared to be a rest and recreation room, and placed the removed portion of the screen down on a table. He began to explore the house, opening doors, trying staircases to see who was at the top and finding nobody. The house was four stories high and had several flights of stairs. He had just opened the door of what appeared to be an office, when something struck him on the base of the neck from behind. Percy collapsed and slept.

 

When he awoke, he was tied to a chair in the recreation room. As well as the presence of his host, there were two lions sleeping on the floor.

"My pets actually. I was expecting someone else today, but he would have used the front door."

"Have you trained them?" asked the Sneaky Spy.

"Oh yes, and they're far more helpful than guard dogs. You'll find out how efficiently they dispose of my enemies, when I've concluded our interview. Did you find this place through Miles Blackshaw?"

Percy said nothing. He was wondering about the lions.

"Well don't bother answering. There's no other explanation that does fit. When those animals wake up, they'll be hungry."

Percy's host stopped to spray a fly that had begun to disrupt his facial comforts.

"You'll have to forgive the smell of that stuff, but my upstairs rooms have no flyscreens, and I am missing one down here, thanks to you. You're wondering how I knew you were here. Simple. Something aroused my pets. So I had a quiet look around while they retired to this room for a rest. They'll wake up unfed, but I don't think that your rope bonds will get in their way too much. Whatever trouble you've caused up until now, you won't be causing any more."

The apparent owner of the house left the room, closed the door and left Percy to his fate. It seemed that all of his secret pen weapons were still in his pockets, but he was unable to reach them.

"Even if I did, what use they would be against two hungry beasts I don't know," thought the Sneaky Spy, "Still there's one thing I know for sure: I'm better off free than tied up."

Struggling with his bonds, Percy managed to unlatch his watchband and remove the small razor blade. He cut savagely at his bonds, but the process took time. How ironic that someone who enjoyed being eaten alive by his unknowing girlfriend now had to save himself from being eaten in a way which had no appeal at all.

He had only just finished freeing his wrists, when one of the lions opened its eyes. Thankfully his feet had not been tied. He used the chair for protection and backed up to the table, as the lion closed in on him.

Then the other animal came to life. The Sneaky Spy dug his hand into his outer left breast pocket and found the cigarette lighter still there. He seized it, dropped the chair and ducked behind the table. Then his free hand picked up the can of fly repellent.

"Now I'm ready for those oversized Korean delicacies," he thought.

He raised the cigarette lighter and held it in front of the spray can and lit the flame. Then as the first lion came towards him, he stared at it with sweat pouring down his face.

"I'm about to find out whether or not this concoction really gets rid of all household pests," he said.

With the flame in the path of the nozzle, Percy pressed the spray can and adjusted the position of the lower component of his two piece flamethrower.

"Since you've probably had other unwanted guests for dinner and planned on doing it to me, it is only fair that I make a lion roast out of you," said the Sneaky Spy, as the beast's body hairs burst into flame.

The second animal failed to learn any lesson of caution from the live cremation scene that passed before its eyes. Ignoring the awful wailing growl of its companion, which did not last for a very lengthy period of time, the second lion came towards the Sneaky Spy. Percy turned to point his improvised weapon at the beast, and ushered it out of good health and lasting livelihood with a blast that was slightly burning his own hand. There was no damage to his fingers, but he would have welcomed the opportunity to douse them in cold water at that point.

What remained of the twin monarchs of the jungle would not have appealed to anybody's concept of beauty. Percy surveyed the horrid mass of hair and half exposed limbs that was even then still burning.

"It seems as if one drug lord is going to spend a period of time in deep mourning," thought the Sneaky Spy, "but it's definitely his own fault. He should, after all, take more trouble to feed his pets properly. Oh well, Christian adventurers: one; lions: zero."

Satisfied with his two executions, Percy Dale left the can on the table, pocketed his cigarette lighter and left the room by the same door that his host had used to depart. He ascended the stairs again, with his tranquiliser dart gun held firmly in his hand. Apparently his host had been so sure of his plans to make a lions' luncheon out of Percy, that he had not bothered to search the Sneaky Spy for weapons. When he again reached the office, he found the door open; and the host - who sat at the desk - had yet to notice his approach.

"I'm afraid the summer heat was all too much for your pets," said the Sneaky Spy, "but we might still be able to enjoy a revealing conversation, if you get your hands above your head, rather than in that drawer you're reaching for - now!"

The man at the desk complied.

"Now who are you?" asked the Sneaky Spy.

"Angus Lintel, businessman."

"Drug lord and possible murderer."

"You can prove none of that."

"Open your safe."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll open it myself, while you're confessing your sins to no avail in the next life," said the Sneaky Spy.

Again the man complied. Angus appeared to value his life, even when threatened with the need to change it dramatically. From his safe, Angus removed a few wads of cash and several packets of that substance which some children would be excused for believing was the ingredients for cheesecake.

"Well I would hate to have all sorts of stoned flounder breathing your powder cake presents into their gills. So we won't pour them down the sink, but you can expect to part with them today."

"Why should you want it?" asked Angus.

The man was probably stalling for time.

"Well I haven't had much success manufacturing my own gunpowder, and I was hoping to have found the missing vital ingredient. It's just a flimsy little hope, but maybe I can utilize your powder piles to help me make things go bang."
"No really, why can't we explore possible angles in which I could be of benefit to you?" asked Angus.

"As I've already told someone, my angle was and might still be terror. Why people who have made attempts on my life expect to win me into their confidence with bribes and appeals I don't know; but it is really an insult to your own intelligence if you plan to buy me off now. Just put the last of it down on the desk ... thank you, and move away from it."
Angus Lintel complied with Percy's instructions, and the Sneaky Spy stepped over to the desk, still covering Lintel with his tranquiliser dart gun. He opened the top drawer and removed an automatic revolver.

"Do you remember my angle, Angus? I still don't know just what to do with you. Perhaps, if you could tell me who murdered the parents of Samuel and Eleanor Sharpe, then I might let you out with several major inconveniences. Otherwise the world might just have to do without you from now on."

The beads of sweat began to form on Angus Lintel's forehead, and the Sneaky Spy was pleased to see them.

"Yes Angus, I felt that way myself, when your pair of unfed animal assailants began to stalk me in the recreation room. I think you'll have to disappear, Angus. I can't see that anyone would benefit from your remaining in this house to cause further havoc."

"It was Paul Gillespie. He lives at 37 Billiard Street or Road or something, very near Kings Cross itself. He killed the Sharpes."

"Thank you," said the Sneaky Spy, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Angus Lintel finally awoke. He was not in his office, or anywhere else in his house.

"I've been moved, but where?" he thought, wondering if his captor had mercifully chosen to avoid turning him over to the police and wondering why.

"The gun wasn't a real revolver.  Somehow I seem to remember it fired silently, and I was hit with a dart. The dart must have had a sleeping drug in it. Whoever that guy was, he was clever. I'm surrounded by bushes, and I've been out of it for a while. I seem to feel very hungry too. What's this in my pocket?" thought Angus.

He opened a letter and read it:

 

            Dear Angus,

                                    I hope you can appreciate that the work of the drug lords is not

            appreciated by the more healthy minded people of Sydney. Handing you over

            to the tardy effects of our highly congested legal system would be unlikely to

            produce the results that I want. I've had the same trouble with drug pushers

            released on technicalities before, after I have caught them.

            This left me with the options of turning you loose or bumping you off. As you

            can see, I have chosen the former option. You are free to live your life out as

            you see fit, with no identification, passports or money left on your person.

            Consider yourself free from the effects of Australian justice ... somewhere in

            Africa.

            I'm really not joking, you know. It won't be that bad for you. I'm sure it won't

            be worse than the fates which would have befallen Samuel and Eleanor Sharpe,

            if I hadn't enlisted in a cause. You were right about my tracing you through

            your highly cooperative middleman Miles Blackshaw. I have put an end to his

            chance to earn an indecent living as well.

            By the time you have grown accustomed to this new environment of yours, I

            will probably have delivered Paul Gillespie to the police. You may find my

            method of retribution a tad unusual, but then so am I. Remember me in your

            dreams. I am the Sneaky Spy.

 

            Yours Sincerely,

                                                The Sneaky Spy.

 

            PS.       If you ever come to your senses, you might consider the necessity of

                        turning to God to have your sins forgiven. If you get as far as becoming

                        a Christian yourself (and therefore saved from eternal death), you might

                        have a suitable vocation. Remember that there's often a need for

                        missionaries in Africa.

                        I shall do my best to see that your mansion sells for a price that will

                        greatly increase the funds I've collected for the Sneaky Spy drug

                        rehabilitation members anonymous club, or something like it, if a

                        business manager of yours I learned of, while exploring your house

                        helps me work the transaction in order to purchase my silence about his

                        involvement with you. Be a good boy in the future. It was tempting to

                        offer your inner components to anyone needing a transplant.

 

"Well he might eventually find passage back to Australia," said the Sneaky Spy, "but I doubt that he'll be prosecuting me for the deportation operation performed by my pilot friend Brin Decembar - a fast flight to Africa with intravenous food injections."

"It was a dramatic step to take, Percy," said Ingrid

"I didn't tell Gillespie or the police what we've done with Lintel. They'll think he's done a runner on them, like Blackshaw. I think it's the best we can do, for the purpose of preventing Lintel from adding to the corruption of Kings Cross.

"So now you're going to go after Paul Gillespie?"
"With dedication and devotion to duty," said the Sneaky Spy.

"Does he have the opportunity to travel overseas as well?"

"No. He has the opportunity to confront the only daughter of his two murder victims ... in a federal court room. He will have that chance anyway, if I can arrange it."

 

*          *          *          *

 

With the need to secure a conviction using the proper legal channels, Percy Dale asked his friend Inspector Higgins to arrange a liaison with the inner city police. The old matter of evidence was still a serious consideration.

"Angus Lintel, one of Gillespie's fellow drug lords left the country after I had managed to acquire his information about the murder of the Sharpes," said the Sneaky Spy, "I don't think you'll catch up with Lintel."

"We can arrest Sharpe's most likely killer - based on that evidence - on suspicion of murder. Then it would be up to the courts to hold a fair trial," said the sergeant, "Apparently Gillespie seldom leaves his house, and if he does, he goes by taxi far away from the city. Several other people have been seen going to and from his house over the years. It's as if he does all his work by proxy through his underlings."

"Then you've been watching him?"

"For years. We've been aching to hang something on Paul Gillespie, but he doesn't make it any easier by hiding away."

 

*          *          *          *

 

The sergeant, dressed in plain clothes, accompanied Percy Dale to the Gillespie residence and made the arrest.

"Of all the flimsy cases," he said to Percy in privacy, "In his own mind, he's probably laughing at our chances of convicting him."

"Let's go ahead with the trial anyway," insisted the Sneaky Spy. Charge him with drug related crimes, and if the police prosecutor loses the case, it will still damage his credibility a little."

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Bring in the accused," said the judge.

"Don't worry too much," whispered Percy to Eleanor, "We'll be doing our best to convict him."

Then he noticed a mixture of surprise and misunderstanding on her face.

"It's him. I'm sure it's him," she whispered.

"Who? The killer?" returned the Sneaky Spy, "but you never saw the killer. You said that you only knew of the murder from an underworld leak of information."

"It's not the killer," she whispered, and her next statement was heard by everyone in the courtroom, "It's Dad!"

The Sneaky Spy saw everything then, but it took the courts a lot longer to prove it. After a week of hearings, he led Eleanor away from the scene where her father was sentenced to life imprisonment.

"It's still too horrible to believe," she said.

"You can't have been expected to know," said the Sneaky Spy in his best attempt to soothe her nerves, "He changed his name from Sharpe to Gillespie and hardly set foot out of his new home, financed by the proceeds from his drug sales. I'll do what I can to help you and your brother, but nobody can ever make this up to you, and I won't try to pretend otherwise."

 

*          *          *          *

 

The Sneaky Spy was tired and weakened from a mixture of despair and disgust. He could not go on battling a veritable industry of crime on his own, especially when it was condensed so heavily into one urban location - that curious blend of lively streets and poverty stricken victims of the injustices which plagued those streets.

The enormity of the adventure sank deeply into his heart, and he felt an emotional paralysis. Sharpe's wife had learned too much about his involvement in drugs. So to protect his own interests, he had murdered her and estranged his own children.

A sickening undercurrent of hopelessness dwelt privately in the mind of Percy Dale. There had to be some other people who were prepared to battle the evils he had encountered. For one broken family, he might have made an impact, but that was as relatively insignificant as washing one brick on a dirty neglected wall.

Ingrid Castlecove was happy to have him home safely again, and that in itself was reward enough. However, Percy Dale would never forget what transpired in that courtroom: the irony that a man who had supposedly expected to easily escape the consequences for two suspected murders had been caught out and punished for what  was actually only one murder. As he reflected on the extent to which the world had decayed in its morality since the fall of Adam and Eve, he knew that some of his personal reminders of those symptoms would lurk in his thoughts forever.

“I almost didn’t tell you how it turned out,” he said.

“Because it would remind me of my own ex-husband’s attempt on my life,” she said, “I’m glad you told me. That brought us together, and I can understand that you’d find even our Smiling Island reunion a less painful way of getting together than the church café meeting was.”

“You’re very understanding too.”

“About most things,” said Ingrid, “But I still can’t get over how familiar you tasted when I licked you before this adventure started.”

“But you’d licked me before that,” said Percy.

“I suppose so,” said Ingrid.

She was undoubtedly getting closer to the truth.

“You don’t know what it might have been that you ate that I taste like?” he asked.

“Well maybe not, but I think it’s something I had when I was a teenager. I might find some more there at the school fete. Would you like to go there with me?”

She was thinking of searching the grounds for more little boys, where she’d caught him the first time, and eating them, and possibly even thinking of testing to see whether Percy would be around at the time she caught the little boy.

“I’d love to go,” thought Percy.

This would not be her opportunity to confirm any subconscious or open suspicions of Percy being the shrunken men she was eating. It would be his opportunity to allay her suspicions. He agreed to meet her at the fete after attending to some legal issues following on from the drug case.

On that day, he shrank himself and teleported into the same school garden where Ingrid had caught him as a teenager. He let her find him again. She picked him up proudly.

“I’ve enjoyed eating a few little fellows like you,” she said, licking him twice to taste him, “It’s not your lucky day, is it?”

“No,” said Percy.

“Well you can think on it until dinner time. It’s nothing personal. I just enjoy the taste of you, and there’s nothing else like it.”

Ingrid put him into her handbag and clasped it tight, and then walked up to the gate to meet Percy and walk down with him. Percy teleported back home with the ring, and then rode his new motor scooter to Pymble as fast as he could, something he’d never done before. He had to get to her before she looked in the bag again.

He parked just near the school, walked up to the gate, and met Ingrid. She suddenly licked his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“I thought you liked it,” said Ingrid.

“It’s a bit embarrassing in public,” said Percy, well aware that she was comparing the taste of him to the taste of the tiny man that she assumed was still in her handbag. He had to make sure that she did not open it at all.

“Well I’m sorry for being late,” he said, “Today everything you like is my treat.”

“Thank you,” she said.

That would keep her from opening her bag. He would offer to carry everything in his backpack too, leave the motor scooter there and let her think he needed a lift home, as she had not seen him park it. She didn’t even know he’d bought it specifically for the purpose of this ruse, though it would be useful for Sneaky Spy adventures, he felt sure.

After a romantic day with Ingrid, which included watching her licking cream from a jam and cream bun, he walked her to her car, and invited her to come over for dinner.

“I did have some of my own food in mind, but I love to spend every moment I can with you,” she said.

She drove him home, and he set her up in the dining room, noticing that she carried her handbag by her side the whole time, not wanting him to escape.

He ran upstairs, shrank and teleported directly into the bag just in time to see her lift it and look in at him.

“We’re at my boyfriend’s house, and I’m most likely going to stay the night. I can’t risk you escaping the bag while we’re asleep. So I’ll have to look for a suitable moment to eat you up quickly, when he’s not likely to walk back into the room. I’m sorry it’s so up in the air, but we’ll work something out.”

The politeness of the speech excited him in yet another way.

As soon as she’d closed the bag, he teleported back upstairs and then came down fully dressed once again (having removed most of his clothing except for his underpants, each time he had shrunken). They had dinner together and then he decided to engineer the opportunity for her to eat him in privacy.

He had to get her away from his bag this time, to make sure she didn’t discover his absence before he could teleport into it again. He invited her to dance with him and led her upstairs, holding hands, before she could think to pick up her bag. She would be worried about the little man’s escape.

“I’ll just get my bag,” she said.

“Nothing will happen to it,” he said.

“I know, I just think …. Maybe I should hang it up on the clothes hooks to stop its contents getting damaged,” she said.

That was still far enough away from their dancing destination.

He led her up to his bedroom after she hung up the bag. They danced arm in arm on the balcony and in the bedroom until she said that she needed to go and fetch a glass of water from downstairs.

He let her go, and raced into the laboratory room, which he always kept locked, and shrank himself and teleported into the bag.

He heard her briskly approaching and taking the bag into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry for the short notice, but it’s more than my last tiny man meal got,” she said, recalling the rapid gobbling in the Botanical Gardens, “I’ll have to eat you all up now. No more time to talk.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Thanks for being such a good sport,” she said, and opened her mouth and slipped him in.

She swallowed quickly this time, and he was just as quick in teleporting back to the laboratory and returning to the bedroom.

He soon heard her ascending the stairs and saw her with a glass of water.

“Thank goodness she really got one to authenticate HER journey,” he thought, “It gave me more time to hide mine.”

They snuggled into bed and she licked him again.

“I guess you just have that kind of a taste,” she said, having apparently disproved her suspicions.

 

Percy made his way to a house in Water Street Wahroonga, and introduced himself to his host Colin Geoffries.

"I must apologise for my late arrival. I'm Percy Dale. One of your guests said that you approved of her inviting Ingrid and myself, even though we haven't met."

"Yes, do come in."

Percy  was soon seated beside his girlfriend, enjoying the atmosphere of the party.

"You, dear Ingrid, are the reason that I would not wish to have been any later. Would you like to hear why I was late?"
"I don't mind," she said, in the same volume as that which Percy had used, in order to avoid sharing the details with the other guests.

"Well Ingrid, it does nothing for my peace of mind, to be reminded of the fact that none of the girls in all the earth can match the effect that you have on me."

"Why should it matter, since you have me?" said Ingrid.

"Not to me does it matter, my sweetest. It matters, that there are lots of unfriendly sorts - I exaggerated a lot in saying that none were different - who might make the idea of pleasant courtship nigh on impossible for any Sneaky Similars who exist out there somewhere."

"Oh yes, I see. Is Canton Algor a Sneaky Similar?"

"Yes he is, and the girls on tonight's late train would not have been to his liking, I'm convinced. They worsened their case by the choice of those who did approve of their discouraging personas. I might have left off with noticing those things, but somebody interpreted an unfriendly smile as an invitation to start the test which proved that a railway carriage is as fabulously suitable a mobile battleground as ever was seen fit to be substituted for a boxing ring."

"You don't even have a scratch on you as usual," she marvelled, "What will you do, if the numbers prove to be less than manageable one day?"

"Thirteen isn't such a bad number actually," said Percy, "It's only one away form Valentine's Day."

"Valentines don't please me at the moment, Percy."

"Do you mean that I have finally done something to get you off side? Do tell me what it is. I must make a note of self-reproach."

"Not you, you clowning delightful boy. I'm talking about the way that your host and mine reacted to my presence here tonight. I came on my own as arranged, because I knew you would be tied up in North Sydney. Since there was nobody else to let in, our host Colin Geoffries asked if I would consider falling in love with him. I apologised for the lateness of my escort and said that you were also my partner in romance. Having avoided his touch with that remark, I settled down on a seat, amazed at the gall of his opening offer. I found him sitting beside me saying ,'Ingrid, I know that you are going to drive a hard bargain, but I am filled with an unchanging opinion that you were meant for me. I know now that you are already with somebody else. So I am prepared to offer you everything you could imagine, in order that we might be together'."

"And how did you cope? It must have been taxing."

"I coped with the utterance of another negative response. Let's avoid him, if we can, until we go."

"I would enjoy the chance to give him a home at the local council tip, but I think we should use my feelings as an indication that to remain here would entertain a hypocritical attitude to our host."

Ingrid and Percy soon said farewell to the friend who had invited them, and made their way to the door, without asking for the attention of a host.

"We'll show ourselves out, Ingrid," whispered Percy.

Colin declined the opportunity of allowing them to do so.

"Please don't leave, Ingrid," he said, approaching the door.

"The decision to do so has already been affirmed," said the Sneaky Spy.

"Ingrid, I can make this a night to remember, if you will only stay."

Colin's hand now rested on her left shoulder.

And then it didn't.

It  all happened with a speed which made things hard to follow, but when he again took stock of the situation, the hand was shaking that of the Sneaky Spy.

Percy smiled pleasantly, for the benefit of Colin's other guests as he said, "Dear fellow, you'll sleep so much more comfortably tonight, if you re-join your remaining visitors now."

"What do you mean?" asked Colin.

"I mean that - unless you wish to go the painful way of three of my reasons for disliking school - you would do well to forget about any further attempts to detain Ingrid."

It was unavoidable.

Colin had to let them go. The winding pathway which led to the front gate was a long one. To stray from it would mean walking as many similar curves and bends, although the unconventional route would lead around wide trees and more than one garden fountain.

"And it will also surprise the likely sources of trouble that we could meet," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he led Ingrid across the grass.

"Hey, is it worth giving him anything else about which to complain?" whispered Ingrid.

"It is, if we're to be sure of reaching the street safely," said the Sneaky Spy.

"What? Do you think he would-"

"Do anything to separate us? Yes, or maybe the grave is one realm that he wouldn't object to our sharing. There's something about a persistent gall such as his which just is not what it should be. So let's not risk ending up as the live lovers who aren't."

Ingrid gasped at the grim recognition on Percy's face, as he pointed to a sniper in the distance, adjusting his sights for the path which was now to their right.

"To the left," whispered Percy.

The girl was on his left as they ducked behind a tree.

"What can we do?" thought Ingrid, before whispering the same four words to a man upon whom she had come to rely as an answer to problems of this nature.

"The first one's meant for a Percy Dale who won't actually be coming down from that path. I had not planned to let him fire the first one though."

"Is this what you were expecting, when we took to the grass?"

"I was expecting that our forthright former host had some sinister reasons for what seemed like a few too many bell cords in the front room's wall opening. I'll use these trees in front to get close behind him. You stay behind the last tree until I have done the job. Tomorrow morning, Colin Geoffries will probably be terminating the employment of a drowsy undernourished garden loiterer, who makes a very poor hit man."
"Be careful, darling. Don't let him turn around and surprise you."

"He would need to hear me to do that," said the Sneaky Spy, "and casting sounds before snipers is not one of my policies in the field."

The Sneaky Spy waited until he had reached the last tree, before sliding his tranquiliser gun out of its hidden holster. It proved to be of no greater difficulty to walk within five feet of the sniper before projecting the dart which made the man let go of his rifle. Percy decided that the fallen man's weapon would serve adequately as a payment for the inconveniences that he and Ingrid had endured. He signalled her to join him, and they left the fellow sleeping on the lawn.

"None of which will please Colin, when he's through with his predictable task of fishing our friend for our addresses. Do you think he will get them?"

"Probably," said Ingrid, "but I will be safe with you."

"Ordinairy Man Manor is built like two houses, joined together by an upstairs hallway and a downstairs hallway. It shall be used, for the moment, as  two houses. I have your safety in mind. You can have the bedroom in which I stayed while visiting as a boy."

"Do you think we're going to have more problems with Colin?"

"Undoubtedly. He's more trouble than the average romantic opportunist."

"I'm sorry that he must be smitten by a longing for what he cannot have," said Ingrid , "but my disgust is beginning to outlast my sympathy."

"And my concern over his readily available supply of live-in hired help has outlasted my annoyance at his refusal to take your 'no' for an answer."

"That's why you're letting me move in for a while?"

"Just until this case is over," said Percy.

"You know, maybe you could have kept our addresses a definite secret if we'd spoken to our friend-"

"That would endanger a friend for one thing, and besides, if Colin Geoffries has to be dealt with - and he does, Ingrid - then let him come. It'll save me the trouble of walking back to Water Street. Our past Ordinairy Man Manor adventures have proven that the naughty ones never do well on my home territory. The risks would be mostly Colin's, you know."

"Do you think he's devious?"

"Definitely, but the greater danger comes from coupling his inclinations towards you with his willingness to take ruthless measures, motivated by anger, frustration, and a refusal to be crossed up, even by a Percy Dale."

"Or a Sneaky Spy," said Ingrid, "I know you removed your dart as soon as it had done its work, but he'll say enough in the morning, to let Colin know that you're as ordinairy a boyfriend as he is an ordinairy unwanted corner of a love triangle."

"So the rest of Water Street finds out that they have shared a neighbourhood with a gangster with a broken heart. Things would be so much worse for the whole suburb if I chose not to get involved. Apart from which, his next attack will probably happen here, and my grandparents would expect me to take good care of this place."

"So the Sneaky Spy goes into action."

"Yes, but the more important reason for doing so is to take excellent care of you."

The conversation had outlasted their ride in Ingrid's car. It continued in Percy's living room.

"If they do come tonight, they can't even use the lower rooves without disrupting my slumber. I'll rig up the usual noisy traps on the insides of doorways down here. Such devices are like burglar alarms, only they don't need to be turned off. It saves disturbing the neighbours. I tend to think better in a manhunt if I only hear a brief bang to announce the arrival of an unwanted guest. Continuous sirens must be switched off, and that could be risky, if the switch were in the line of the housebreaker's weapon's fire."

"Percy, you're doing all this to protect me?"

"I'm doing all this to protect me," he whispered, "and don't be surprised at the sudden inaudibility of my voice to somebody standing outside the room,  because my reflecting mirrors inside the open drinks cabinet have just revealed - in such a way as the naughty one could never know - a peeper and his popgun outside the western window. Look anywhere around the room you like, except in his moonlit direction, and be thankful that tonight's tale began unfolding under a full moon. Otherwise I doubt that we would have seen him in my darkened garden, with the lights on in here and no other forms of luminance shining onto that triangle of jacaranda and assorted geranium bushes which links the terrace steps and those which lead up to the front door. That fool outside is about to make the same mistake as my old school enemies: that of underestimating the Sneaky Spy."

For all of the time that he had been whispering, his body language had deliberately lied to the armed watcher, suggesting that sweet nothings were all of the subject matter which he had offered to Ingrid.

"Now tell me - at a normal speaking volume - that you love me for the things I say in such touching moments, and then sit in the armchair which has its back to the danger window. I'll make like a boyfriend and butler in one, only to get the drop on our friend outside."

Ingrid accepted his advice without question, knowing that it was to preserve her own physical safety. Why the shots had not been fired already was something of a partial mystery. Geoffries might well - having acquired Percy's address in the manner previously speculated by the Sneaky Spy - have instructed his stripling to spare Ingrid. Another possibility was that the gun was only a safety precaution, should the watcher receive the impression that he too was under surveillance. The Sneaky Spy had taken great pains to be sure of not giving such an impression.

As Percy walked out to the kitchen, the watcher stared at the back of Ingrid's chair awaiting any further signs of movement. Wisely, Ingrid had sat forward in the chair and kept her high head from reaching above the back of the chair. The watcher studied every attractive item of the splendid room, hoping for a clue as to Ingrid's immediate intentions. When the boredom and frustration had begun to set in, he was at last surprised by the familiar feeling of a metal object prodding his back.

"Little Peeping Tommy and his Pipping Tommygun. Part with the latter!" said the Sneaky Spy.

The gun landed by his feet, and the Sneaky Spy remained motionless.

"Now there's an old school of combat regulation," he began, "which strongly advises against standing close to a person whom you are threatening with gunfire. Further to this theory is the idea that a person with a gun pressed against his back could cause the wielder to miss, by rapidly turning ninety degrees, giving him the opportunity to seize command of the combat game. I've never reassured myself one way or the other about the likelihood of such lessons containing a ring of truth, but I might warn you that  - even disarmed - I could best the paltry likes of your efforts with the greatest of simplicity. I suspect that I know already; but I would much like to hear of your confession of the reason for inflicting your putrid presence upon the innocent geraniums which have made their happy home in this garden for many years without disruption."

"I'm supposed to find out if the blond girl is going to stay here tonight," offered the moonlit captive without the slightest hint of resistance.

The Sneaky Spy believed him. It would not have perturbed Percy, if his mind had entertained any doubts about the authenticity of this latest example of that which was said to benefit the soul. The Sneaky Spy had altered his plans at the very moment when he had uttered the words "I'm doing all this to protect me." That would be discussed in more depth later, but first he would give the man the impression that no changes had been made.

"Well now that you have come, been seen, and also been caught and conquered, you can leave without ever returning," said the Sneaky Spy, "As your peeping has no doubt revealed to you, there is a girl inside my house, whose liberty - along with my life - have already been endangered tonight. I offer no apologies, nor even any admission of involvement in whatever sleeping arrangements were forced on Colin's hitman. However, I mentioned a girl being in danger, and at the moment, you are a significant portion of the indecent reasons for that danger. If you or anyone else from Colin's collection of disreputable party animals pays another visit here in my lifetime, he will be risking the span of his own. Now leave your weapon as payment for my troubles, and depart ... without damaging the life laden floral arrangements out here!"

The Sneaky Spy followed his visitor to the front gateway, and then returned to the laundry doorway and retraced his steps to the living room.

"I hope he thinks you're spending the night here," said the Sneaky Spy, "but we both know that neither my place nor yours are terribly safe for the person Colin admires tonight. How would you feel about doing some voluntary work for Larmont Orphanage?"

"Percy, you're brilliant. That's the perfect place to hide. It's addressed in both Burns Road and the currently frightening Water Street."

"It is. First we'll have to smuggle you in there in a way that no roaming Colin Geoffries clan members would ever detect. After that, you can stay indoors at Larmont until all of this is cleared up. If you need anything, I shall not even enter the place myself. Kyair can run innocent shopping errands, but must not risk being seen coming to my place here. If I need to communicate with you myself, I will employ the telephone."

"So when is the big move?"
"It will have to be tonight. I can't formulate the next stage in the proceedings, unless I sleep well, and that won't happen until I know you're safe at Larmont."

"But how will you get me there? If we're being watched, they will know as soon as we leave the property," said Ingrid.

"The one thing that they could never know - because we never told the person who asked us along to Colin's party - is your original address. We will have to climb the tennis court fence, creep through what to me is some old familiar territory without disrupting its new owners and head out into Burns Road. Then it's an easy secluded walk to Larmont Orphanage. I'll just telephone somebody."

"Why don't you come with me, Percy?"

"To Larmont?"
"Yes."

"Because I can operate things better from here."

"You could take your gadgets to Larmont with you and sleep on Kyair's floor with a lilo and sleeping bag."

"And I'd risk my house, Ingrid. Remember, while you're safe - which I insist is the first and most important object of the game - the ones who have bothered us already this evening will undoubtedly strike at this place again, expecting to find you. I'll have to be here to spoil it for them."

 

"I just don't want to chance your being hurt."

"Ingrid, rest your delightfully concerned mind, and know that I shall wring a lot more than a mere apology out of anybody who seeks to see me hurt."

She relaxed back in the chair, while Percy made arrangements with the orphanage.

As he spoke to the lady at the other end of the telephone, Percy's mind dismissed the possibility of making another telephone call.

"I can't be alerting Inspector Higgins to this one yet," he thought, "Perhaps police protection would come in handy against this new threat to my partnership with Ingrid. However, that option would start new problems. I would rather solve the current ones myself."

There was a deeper reason brewing in the back of Percy's mind. As he concentrated on confirming the arrangements with the staff member of Larmont Orphanage, the Sneaky Spy's mind had not yet given complete structure to the base concept behind his approaching idea: Colin Geoffries was not the usual sort of naughty one faced by the Sneaky Spy and his companions. He was more than a mere headache to be battled. Somehow Percy faced the fact that there might be only one acceptable way to ultimately ensure Ingrid's safety ...

 

Percy pocketed the key to the billiard room door as he led Ingrid around the corner and through the courtyard.

"If we have come this way, why not just cross the large lawn and go through the bushes?" asked Ingrid.

"It only makes less noise until we have to trample through those bushes," said Percy, "I'm not that worried about the naughty ones hearing us from any perch in the street, but we cannot risk waking the present owners of Jenny’s old residence as we approach the tennis court fence from this side."

"Was this Jenny important to you?"

“Very, until I met you actually.”

“The soul of diplomacy, even under fire.”

"If we were caught now, we could be charged with trespassing. We know that we intend no harm, and we are doing it for your safety. However, that's all the more reason to pull the coup off successfully without being discovered and delayed. We'll cross the enclosed lawn, go through the hedge opening, and then climb the end of the tennis court fence between the coach house and the start of those bushes."

The girl followed his lead, taking great comfort in his presence. His influence over the developments that evening had scarcely given her a chance to appreciate the full extent of how frightened she was. Her hero was there, and as long as that was still true, she would not give way to blind fear and panic. She briefly thought about the fact that she could be both damsel in distress and leading lady to him, and also the huntress of a number of tiny fellows who would take a different role in her life.

They ascended the fence nimbly, and took their time to avoid any sudden shakes. On the far side, the door to the court was closed. Percy opened it silently, having advised the girl to run to the street if any slight creak caused him to jerk it open and dart away himself. By the time such noises had been investigated, they would have been well on their way to Larmont Orphanage. No such speedy exodus was necessary.

"To think that that house has played a part in saving me at this point in time!" said Ingrid, when they had reached Burns Road.

"I would imagine, sweetheart, that every brick, window, roof tile and door would have been honoured to have contributed to the worthy cause of preserving your valuable heart-warming existence," replied the Sneaky Spy, "and before this rattling shindig's over, I plan to make Colin Geoffries regret not having saved us the trouble. Had he behaved himself, he might well have found a nice young damsel of his own."

 

*          *          *          *

 

"She's not to know about it, Kyair," said the Sneaky Spy within the confines of the Venetian orphan boy's bedroom, "but I would like you to keep a watchful eye on her safety. If any of the naughty ones do find their way into this well-placed retreat; well Kyair, I don't really mind how badly you cork the thighs of an unwanted visitor if he's here to trouble Ingrid. I will see you escape any legal reproach for using those martial arts skills of yours."

"I'll protect Ingrid if I need to, Sneaky boss," said the lad with a reassuring grin that showed his sincerity, "I just wish that you would let me go back to the Water Street house with you, when you go."

"That privilege is for me alone," said Percy, “Sleep well, boy. If I want to avert any suspicions, or preferably prevent their even existing, then I had best retrace my trespassing footsteps in the house where Jenny Winters used to live behind my grand parents’ home, before it became mine."

He took the trouble to close the tennis court door again. This would leave no hint of the two journeys that had been made (the former with the previous resident of the house). However, this time the major concern was that of making sure that any other watchers had no chance to discover his secret exit and re-entry. He was by no means through with Colin Geoffries and his Geofflings that night, but even a Sneaky Spy needed his sleep, and Percy's last act - before going to bed - was to check the surprises on the insides of the downstairs doors to the world outside.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy's dreams were not disrupted, and he welcomed the morning sunshine with a keenness to prepare his breakfast.

He had to know.

This was the thought that played on his mind, as Percy enjoyed four toasted ham sandwiches.

He had used liberal quantities of ham, and enjoyed the result immensely.

The Sneaky Spy had to know how Colin planned to achieve his objective of taking Ingrid Castlecove away from Percy Dale. It was unlikely that Ingrid's house would be attacked. It would have dawned powerfully on Geoffries - as he bade farewell to his guests and organised the visit which Percy had that last night interrupted - that the Sneaky Spy would be unwilling to trust his precious heart's desire to the unprotected quarters in which she usually resided. The return of the visitor would confirm that. But what would he do next?

"It takes a certain sort of artist to misuse the art of heroism," thought the Sneaky Spy, "and if I were merely a fictional character, then I might have met Ingrid Castlecove for the first time at last night's hoods gathering in party guise. I might well have been instantly catapulted into the crush of no return and spent the entire evening wishing for the presence of some naughty ones, forever hoping that some threat to this newfound gem would afford me the chance to polish my armour with the curtains from the houses of those possible naughty ones. I would crave it with a passion, though the day might never come, when an opportunity to be both rescuer and survivor would win the heart of Miss Castlecove. However, I just don't see it like that."

Percy was powerfully convicted by this last realisation. It was all very well to go paddling about in a lake of iniquity, thrusting his objections in the faces of the dwellers therein; but why should a deranged criminal mind like Colin's have a tender spot for a shy affectionate girl like Ingrid, who would never develop any respect for people who kept their snipers in their gardens and arranged nocturnal voyeurism sessions in a garden of innocent geranium bushes?

As his mind wrestled with the problem, he came to the conclusion that Colin's attraction to Ingrid Castlecove was purely in existence because of her physical beauty.

"That can be rather hard to help at times," thought the Sneaky Spy, "especially for the male mind. Ladies can hardly blame us for harbouring feelings which we are powerless to change. However, I am very much appreciative of the fantasy and depth of the relationship that Ingrid and I have been able to share. I could not have developed such a strong mental kinship with Donna. I can't help but think that Colin would keep company rather happily with one of the female trio in the train carriage yesterday evening. Maybe he was born tender and began to rough it in response to life's indecent blows. The continually confusing question is: How did he ever expect to get away with what he tried? Admittedly one doesn't expect the average party guest to have my skills, but he was still showing a gall. Approaching a girl with a boyfriend of her own, again and again after he had received the first refusal; and using a sniper at the house during a party, which was still in full swing were two highly foolish undertakings."

A man in an unbalanced state of mind may not be aware of the consequences of such folly. The Sneaky Spy would have to enlighten him. No conventional appeals to rationality could be relied on with such an opponent; and yet neither could the Sneaky Spy use the man's lack of rationality as a reason to doubt his capacity for wreaking havoc.

"There's only one course of action open to me," he thought decisively, "Whether I like it or not, whether it's easy or challenging, whether I'm expected or overlooked, I must choose either today or tonight as an opportunity to prowl that place and find any clue as to the nature of Colin Geoffries' newest battle plan."

He had to know, and that was the end of the story.

Were he to fail in his endeavour to protect Ingrid, he would most likely mention Ordinairy Man Manor and his close companions in the same sentence of his will. That thought did not frighten the Sneaky Spy half as much as the visions in his mind of the awful life that the victor might then attempt to inflict upon Ingrid. It must not be allowed to happen.

He had to know.

There's one thing that I do know for the first time in my abnormal career," thought the Sneaky Spy, "That one thing is the fact that there is a gangster living two or three blocks from my very own house. If it were not for his burst of lovesickness, I might never have known, until it was too late."

Whether he invaded Colin's territory in the day or the night, there would undoubtedly be some surprises waiting for him, and it did not pay to underestimate an opponent. He would have to brave the situation and think out some of his escapes on the heat of  the moment.

"My other problem is knowing that this house is safe from Colin's own prowlers while I am giving his quarters the once over."

Then the idea came to him. It was one of Percy's oldest philosophies that when two problems were played off against each other, each problem might well be used as a solution to the other. It had to be properly engineered. In this case, he had laid the groundwork the night before at a time when he was too tired to see the beauty of it.

"Ingrid's absence is the key to my pulling off both tricks. The naughty ones don't know about it. They will plan whatever they have in store for this house in the earnest belief that she is still holed up here. I have never thought that much of tennis, but the idea of a tennis court fence acting as a borderline between two backdoor neighbours has proved doubly useful this time. I can lay traps here for lots of naughty ones and expect to find as many. Why it even solves my third problem about involving the police. I can truthfully tell Higgins that I had a watcher at the window last night. I can honestly say that he was armed and that I let him go, because I did not wish to take the law into my own hands. I can say that the naughty one was probably performing a reconnaissance mission as a prelude to attempted burglary. He need never know the full story. If Higgins and his men caught a collection of hoods in my house or gardens, the hoods would talk in such a way as to make their efforts appear to be nothing more than a planned robbery that failed. I would make no efforts to force the truth out of them, and the threat to Ingrid's safety would not become common police knowledge. Their desire to find Ingrid here will draw more of them away from Colin's house, leaving me free to enter it at a time when security provisions are made to suffer from a lack of numbers."

 

What did it matter if he locked some of the inside doors, those leading to special rooms like the laboratory, and also bedroom doors? To the naughty ones, any room could be hiding Ingrid Castlecove. The police would have a chance to see plenty of satisfying field work that day.

Percy called Inspector Higgins, and the plan of operations was agreed upon. To explain his own planned absence, Percy said that he would be away on another Sneaky Spy mission that day.

"Do you mean that you're not going to help with the protection of your own house?" protested Higgins.

"If you've no wish to return the favours I've done you in New York and Pymble, then I won't hold a grudge. I just need you to do the job for me. I can almost promise you a collection of criminals worthy of your staff's adept skills in the art of making arrests."

"Why should this lot pick on your place?"

"One: It looks appealing. Two: I took great steps to protect it last night. Three: I'm known to have greedy enemies. It's possible that some of them could have learned my address. Four: The old architecture suggests an apparent ease. It would be easy to break into a house devoid of modern protection devices."

"Blast you Sneaky Spy. Even when you need my help - "

"I don't give you the chance to crow," Percy cut in.

"Don't worry about it at all today then. Go and do what you will. We'll take as much care as we can to arrest them, or at least to drive them from the house, with a minimum of damage to your property. Is that worth the chance you would be taking? I mean, you could stay home and protect the more special rooms yourself."

"I will have locked those before I leave," said the Sneaky Spy, "Just think. That's fewer rooms for your man or men to have to search, Higgins. This case could put your name up in lights. Would you like that at all?"

"Just tell me when you think they'll be coming," said the inspector, sighing in a manner which advertised the fact that he was becoming awfully peeved.

"Probably as soon as they see me go," said the Sneaky Spy.

"Do you mean that they've had their eye on you all night?"

"Eyes plural, Inspector. They'd have taken it in turns from the street, each taking a peek at my front driveway while the other slept."

 

*          *          *          *

 

Higgins arrived in the middle of the morning and was offered a key to the house.

"Who can a Sneaky Spy trust, if not the occasional policeman?" thought Percy, "Now I don't know when or even if I can expect to play involuntary and absent host to the naughty ones. What I can say for certain is that I plan to choose the time for my own visit to Colin's house. I've done well, to be able to arrange police protection for my house while simultaneously planning to pull off a stealthy visit to that Geoffries place. The only problem is that of getting in undetected. He would be expecting a visit from his front garden. What if I could approach the building itself from another direction? Why not?

"I could win at both games by employing the same deception in each. I've outsmarted the Geofflings here by using the house behind mine. That was never to be imagined by last night's unwanted stalker at the window. If I was half contemplating a direct entry through Colin's front yard, and summoning the effrontery to attempt it; then I should have no concerns at all about deceiving his neighbours, who are probably ordinairy people. Of course I believe that everyone is a unique individual, but the notion of ordinairy is used here to refer to an absence of thugs and gunmen patrolling the front gardens. So, while the neighbours of Colin are hopefully out, I shall do my best to take precautions that would safeguard against detection, even if they are home."

The Sneaky Spy left Inspector Higgins and his men to position themselves in various places, and went into his laboratory. There he concealed an assortment of gadgets and gimmicks on his person, and thought about prowling.

"It's not a pretty thought, but if somebody were to see me and call for the police, they might not expect too much help, with Higgins and some of his men actually tied up doing my other dirty work for me right here," he observed, "I'm taking all sorts of abnormally protective measures and contemplating a variety of dubiously unconventional schemes. It's just that a threat to a person - who might otherwise retain the opportunity to help me fulfil our common desire of being together for the rest of our lives - tends to activate a certain amount of powerfully active anxiety in a man such as myself."

He locked the laboratory door from the outside, and made his way out to the street. He took the long way around to Colin's, approaching his northern next-door neighbour's property from Cleveland Street. Houses in Wahroonga were often so shielded from view by the large number of beautiful tall wide trees in their surrounding gardens. This was true of the house beside Colin's.

The Sneaky Spy was about to trespass on a person's property. He would do so in order to access knowledge about that person's criminal neighbour Colin Geoffries. That knowledge and the use to which he put it, would probably protect that person from his own possible future dangerous encounters with Colin Geoffries. As he approached, Percy casually rotated his head in an arc, checking footpaths, windows, the road, and other front gardens. By the time he had reached the desired location, he was convinced that nobody would see him. Anyone who had been watching his own house in the night had left, either because of the arrival of a police car at Ordinairy Man Manor, or because they did not wish to continue their operations in the daytime, with the risk of several potential neighbourhood witnesses to anything that they might reveal, including their number plate.

Knowing all of this, the Sneaky Spy vaulted over the fence, landed on fallen flowers and stepped out onto some grass.

"Well whoever you are, dear owner of this grass beneath my shoes, think of this as your contribution to the safety of anybody who might have a run-in with your hideous neighbour Colin Geoffries."

Positioning was now a most dominating priority. As well as avoiding the eyes of anybody in the house, Percy had to be sure that nobody who might pass by should see him from the street. There was little chance of Colin Geoffries observing his movements, because even the borderline fence between the two properties was mostly obscured from view by the large number of trees on either side of it.

Percy ducked under a wide low-branched pine tree and gathered his thoughts. From here he could be effectively invisible to everyone, while peeking out at anyone. He studied the garden for a moment and then decided that he had navigated a serpentine path around certain trees, which would have a net displacement effect of taking him diagonally across to the borderline fence.

Percy had chosen this side of the Geoffries property for an important reason. He had observed, during their departure the night before, that on this side, there was only a driveway's  width in distance between the borderline and the side of the house, part of which was taken up by trees.

"I would have been as mad as some of my foes, to have tried going the other way," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he made his serpentine dash towards the desired position. He lifted himself over a wooden fence, which was only three inches higher than his own head's neatly styled hair. On the Geoffries side of the fence, he was adequately shielded from view by a wide trunk, which belonged to a palm tree.

"Not very helpful for the keen climber, unless he comes from an island where coconuts are popular, but it keeps me out of sight until I make my next move," thought the Sneaky Spy.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound which would offend the ears of a person with a broken but necessary hearing aid. The Sneaky Spy peeked around the trunk, and satisfied himself that, if any of the neighbours did happen to be at home that morning, then the sound which would be disrupting their peace and harmony was now emanating from a room at the back corner of this near side of the house. It had a high window. Percy decided to run towards the wall and then edge his way up to a point where he could listen just below the window. He briefly relaxed his muscles, and then departed towards the wall like a panther stalking its prey.

"I'm not that worried if he does catch me at this point. His strongarm pistol people will be out the front, if active at all, and I don't think Geoffries fancies to tackle me on his own, not after the handshake I gave him last night. Even the thought of police need not be feared, since I know that Ordinairy Man Manor's unwanted sleuth for naughty ones was employed by Colin to peep at us last night," thought Percy.

The sound which had penetrated every portion of the garden was a violin. Its tune was so harsh and disjointed that it could only have been composed by Colin Geoffries himself.

"Well now I know where he is," thought the Sneaky Spy on tiptoes, "For only he could be playing this instrumental assault."

He was about to sit down right under the window, when his eyes noticed something significant. It was the finishing touch to his plans of stealth.

"I was so concerned with the location of that noise and the height of the window, that I never even noticed this door down here. No wonder the window is so high. The whole room is that high off the ground. That's why I can see this short doorway leading under the house. It's my ticket to whatever it suits me to overhear."

The noise might have been a masquerading blessing. Not only did it telegraph Colin's location to the Sneaky Spy, but it also reduced the chances of Percy's being heard to zero. The Sneaky Spy would have been able to slide back the bolt and open the door in the closest audible approximation to complete silence anyway, but he had no need to fear any chances of detection now. Seated under the window he was in full view of anyone who might walk around the house and it only afforded him a small chance of listening outside one room. Now he had the opportunity to move around under the house and hear conversations which were clearly audible through the floorboards of any room. Nobody would either see or hear him. He slipped through the opening and pushed the door shut. Looking up to the floorboards of the room from which the noise was erupting, Percy could see only darkness.

"Good. No light shining down here. That means the floor is carpeted like the one in the lounge room was last night. Fine. That means I can use this," thought Percy. He removed from his pocket a wide ball point pen, which had had all of the writing parts removed. Into its hollows he had inserted small thin batteries, a spring contact, wires, a light globe from an electronic kit, and a flexible metal strip, which when held in place by Percy's thumb would complete the circuit. He removed the cap of the pen and revealed the globe and strip to his searching fingers. He pressed the strip inwards and illuminated among other things, the thumb which was doing the pressing.

"All in the names of lasting love and worthwhile war," thought the Sneaky Spy.

Then to his surprise, Colin made his own contributions to love and war. To his continued torturous tune, he added the tenor sound of his own voice:

 

            "Oh Ingrid, how I do love you.

            There aren't any more above you.

            Percy Dale shan't be the one

            To make all my tears run.

            As he just might guess,

            I've learned of his address.

            If he should wish to conceal

            You, I'll have to definitely deal..."

 

 

"It's awful," thought Percy, "The lines don't even scan. He's actually repeated the same bar and crammed more syllables into it the second time."

 

 

            "My sight has had an eclipse

            When I stare at your lips.

            The soft touch of your hand

            Makes my blood vessels expand."

 

 

"Whatever else I saved Ingrid from last night, whatever awful horrors of bullets and burglaries I removed from my sweet damsel's fears, I am so very glad that I have also prevented any likelihood of her ever having to be here to listen to this musical embarrassment!" thought Percy.

Percy's private mental mockery of Colin's uncouth serenade was interrupted by the lyrics of a revealing rhyming couplet:

 

 

            "If you'd let Percy thrill you,

            I must take steps to kill you."

 

 

As Percy took this in, another was thrust down upon him, and yet another followed it immediately:

 

 

            "If I can't make you mine,

            You'll never make me pine.

            My love has left you scoffin'.

            So scoff right to your coffin!"

 

 

"I don't think that there is any real need for me to listen to any more of this," thought the Sneaky Spy, "So I shall retrace my steps and have a conversation with Ingrid, but not over the telephone. I will just have to smuggle myself into Larmont Orphanage in the boot of Brin Decembar's car tonight. He's unknown to the naughty ones, and I'll be sure that they don't see me going to his house this evening."

 

"I'll ring for you if I need a ride out of here," said the Sneaky Spy, and he watched Brin drive out into Burns Road. He had called the orphanage, and they were to expect him at nine o'clock that evening. He was soon engaged in a private conversation with Ingrid, which was not even to be offered to the ears of Kyair.

"I have left the boy out of these revelations for his own benefit," said the Sneaky Spy, "The reason being is that I visited the house of the Exceptionally Naughty One today. As a matter of fact I even got right underneath it."

"And what did you learn?"

"Apart from the fact that he'll never play the Sydney Opera House, I gleaned the knowledge that he has reached a desperate conclusion. He didn't mention it in his private musical confessions, but killing me will be crucial to his plans. Well that's no problem. It's been tried before, and now I'm telling you about it."

"What are his plans?"

"They stem from the fact that he's formed an opinion about our relationship. It's unbreakable. Three cheers to Geoffries for getting that one right. It's the only correct thought that he's finally had in his head in the last two days."

"So he hopes to kill you in order to get at me," said Ingrid.

"I only wish that he did," said the Sneaky Spy, "It would be a lot easier to do something about that. What we really have to accept is that it's finally dawned on him that he can't get at you. So he's planning to make sure that you'll never spend your life making any man happy."

She understood at once what the Sneaky Spy was driving at, and bravely offered a suggestion:

"We could go to the police."

"Well I'm not afraid to confess the illegal way in which I discovered his insanely proclaimed confession, if it would help to save your life, but do you think they could act on such flimsy evidence?"

"No...they couldn't."

"And without wishing to blow too many of my own trumpets, I would have to put my chances of protecting you far above those of the police. Higgins didn't catch one visitor today, and he's not likely to buy any more of this. I'd like to commit a theft and pin it on Colin with a framing worthy of a thousand Sneaky Spies. I'd be saving him from having to live the rest of his life with a murder on his conscience. If he plans to get away with murder - and the sentence for theft is generally lighter than the one for murder - then he would only be getting a lesser portion of what he deserves. I think it's justice," said the Sneaky Spy with a casual but nonetheless committed look.

"No, don't chance it Percy. If anything goes wrong, and the frame up doesn't come off the way you're planning it, then I would hate the thought of you being in prison on my account, darling."

"Ingrid, I have enough conclusive evidence that he plans to murder you - not enough for the law, but enough for any freelance adventurer with the ability to think - and I don't see that society, or even Geoffries himself would benefit from his enjoying freedom from incarceration over the next fifteen years or so. He might even get a good psychiatrist in jail. Then he could be helped and paroled early."

"Percy, you might end up in jail yourself. If it were one of your own Sneaky Spy enemies, I'd hate the chances, but I would accept your right to take them. I won't have your risking a prison sentence on my account, Percy. The mad fool's in love with me. I'm the reason for our problems, not you. So don't make this possible sacrifice, please! I'm not worth that!"

"Ingrid, you are the loveliest ongoing event of my entire life, and I have never entertained any desire to be curt with you; but how can you even suggest that you are not worth it? Let the truth be shared by all of us two in this room. There might indeed have been other Donna Scarlots, but there is only one Ingrid Castlecove. We've been talking about risks. Well you make me happy in an imitable way. I am just not going to risk spending the rest of my life reminding myself that the rejections I would receive from other girls could never measure against my convictions that you far surpassed the lot of those future possible girls I might meet ... before you were taken from me by a homicidal maniac."

"You're really seriously going to do this, aren't you?" she asked.

The only thing he couldn’t tell her was that part of his love for her was because of the way she had eaten him when he was a tiny teenager. It would put an end to all their new giantess vore games.

"Yes I am," said the Sneaky Spy, as he caught the teardrop with the tip of his finger, "and you've heard my reasons for choosing to take what you think is a risk. However such assertions constitute something of an oxymoron, because I could have spent the last five years pulling off robberies the likes of which no policeman would ever have been able to prevent. I have not done that, because I don't think it's right. What's the harm in borrowing somebody's property, and then letting it be found again, as a means of convicting some Exceptionally Naughty One who would otherwise be free to perform a murder which would really upset the law... when it was too late to prevent it? Anybody is risking his personal freedom if he plays these sorts of games with me personally. However the principle here comes from a simple rule of Sneaky thumb, which reads as such: Nobody remains calm, safe, and loaded with liberty after endangering the irreplaceable life of the next time period's Mrs Sneaky Spy. My Christianity forbids me to take the life of our enemy, but - to be sure of preserving the life of his intended victim - he'll just have to be shopped with an awful bit of Trouble from the Sneaky Spy. As to how it shall be done, I'm going to take even you for a deceptive ride, along with the Exceptionally Naughty One and all his Geofflings. This is only so that you won't have to carry the beans around living in fear of a spillage. Even when it's all over, you shall be spared the details of the accomplishment. If you still don't approve, and wish to look for someone else, then - "

"Percy, please stop there!"

The command was so unlike anything he had ever heard from Ingrid in all his years of knowing her, even when she was talking to his shrunken self.

"Thank you," he said mildly.

 

*          *          *          *

 

When Brin Decembar had smuggled the Sneaky Spy out of Larmont Orphanage, Ingrid resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait with patience before she saw him again.

"You darling fool," she thought, "Did I really touch your heart so much that you'd risk my losing you to a prison cell? No, not risk. Yes, I do mean that much to you, but you promised me that you weren't risking anything. I've seen you in action before, and it would make me unworthy of what you're doing, if I began to doubt your chances of success now. Would you go to these lengths if you knew how many tiny folk I’d eaten, or the fact that I even wondered…?”

She was unaware that the irony of his devotion to her was not at all lost on him.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"Ingrid," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he pulled the sheets over his body, "I know that you will be safe at Larmont, but this cannot go on. I've always wanted the thrill of borrowing something in a good cause. Now I finally have that cause, and I will do it carefully, Ingrid. For you I will do it very carefully. No matter how enjoyable this becomes, when I do it, I'm not going to turn it into a profitable business. It's merely the means to a safe and satisfactory end ... an end that won't be the end of Ingrid Castlecove. To blazes with police protection and waiting for the Exceptionally Naughty One to hang himself on some other conviction. I had to put a stop to the organised murder of police officials by a rotten apple member of Higgins' own staff! He owes me for that. It's the only reason he saw fit to justify staking my house out for me on the flimsiest of evidence."

The Sneaky Spy's mind was alive with mental hyperactivity. He was keen to conceive the crime and commence its execution. What would he steal? It would have to be small. He wanted to hide it easily. Then he thought about the nature of its final hiding place, and he knew that it would have to be extremely small...

 

*          *          *          *

 

"If you have finished your homework, I guess it would be alright for me to keep you company," said Ingrid in response to Kyair's Friday afternoon invitation.

"Then come in, and I can close the door. I would like to know what has been happening with Colin Geoffries."

Kyair soon closed the door.

"We're not going to know. Percy wants it that way. He thinks that it will be safer for us, both legally and physically. I'm rather pleased not to know actually."

"Would you rather talk about something else?"

"Yes please," said Ingrid, "How is Rory getting on?"

Rory was a boy whom Percy had rescued from the violent temper and physical assaults of his widowed father. After some hearings in a children's court, it was decided, with Rory's approval, that he should live at Larmont Orphanage. Percy had introduced the boy to Kyair, and they were friends from then on.

"He's settled in comfortably, and he doesn't miss his father at all. He never even talks about his old life now."

"That's probably a good thing," said Ingrid, "Being bashed about by a member of your own family is well worth forgetting."

 

*          *          *          *

 

"All this for a small but valuable ruby which I don't even want myself," thought the Sneaky Spy. 

 

Percy spent that Friday fully aware that it would be a lot easier to burgle a private residence than a public institution such as a museum. He had seen the gem personally at a party. Nobody would have attempted to steal it on that occasion. Now it was merely a nocturnal procedure of routine exercises for the Sneaky Spy, avoiding and deactivating alarms, pouring his chemical solution from an insulated hollow pen into the lock of a door, moving around silently on the balls of his feet and keeping a watchful eye out for anybody who might have awoken.

Percy's ears were on the alert as well, but he heard nothing. Even if the owner had kept an index of his party guest lists, it could not have narrowed the suspects down to Percy. The thief could as easily have been someone who was not a guest at the numerous social functions held in the wealthy owner's estate.

"So tonight, high society has this priceless little ruby to offer. It will do a great service to the local community, before they get it back," thought the Sneaky Spy, as he silently stole out the way he had come. In so doing, he left a small device attached to the door.

"The chemical in the lock," he had thought, "might well be known as one of my trademarks in the future. It shan't be used as a means to solve this case though."

Percy stroked his hair with a gloved hand.

 

*          *          *          *

 

An hour later, a resident of Warrawee was woken up by the sound of a small explosion. Seizing a pistol from under his bedside table, he rose from his bed, left the room and descended the stairs to find that his door lock had been blown to pieces. There was no sign of anyone in the garden, he discovered, after rushing out to conduct a search. When he returned to the house, he switched some lights on, thinking that the detonation must have been a prank, because no robbery could have been committed, after the prowler had advertised his presence with a loud bang. Then he noticed the absence of the ruby. He would never discover how it had really been done, but he called the police station in a state of panicked concern.

"You'd best get over here quickly, although I doubt you'll catch the thief now!"

 

*          *          *          *

 

Percy accomplished the other half of the problem in the middle of the same night. Using the method of entry which had brought him within earshot of Colin's love song, the Sneaky Spy made his way to the same window. It was closed, and the room was dark. He made his way around the back, and treated the back door to the same chemical cocktail which he had used before. Once inside he used his pen torch and a screwdriver pen to remove the remains of the lock and handles from the door. Pocketing these, the Sneaky Spy then brought out the ruby, and proceeded to place it gently into a location where it would be easily found.

Having accomplished these tasks, he left Water Street using the same route as he had previously taken, and took a long route around to Ingrid's child self's Burns Road address. This would see him safely into his own garden. He had left his home the same way earlier that night.

"Now the only evidence which the Geofflings could ever offer is that they saw me walk to and from the shopping centre today, not that I will really be needing an alibi from any enemies who have been posted in Burnseid Street for the purpose of peeping," thought the Sneaky Spy.

It was a fortunate thing, that he had avoided the use of his front door, lest anyone hiding in the driveway should see him, because the Sneaky Spy's silent turning of the key in the door that opened from the billiard room out onto the terrace was interrupted by the faintly audible sound of footsteps just around the corner of the L-shaped terrace.

"I'm glad he didn't hear me, whoever he is. If I had been sleeping, I might never have heard him, but I'll go in and make catching him look like the efforts of a Sneaky Spy who got up for a midnight snack."

Percy knew that this would give support to his plans. There would be no need for any anonymous tips now. He waited in the hallway, hidden just around a corner, and heard the lock being forced. A sleeping Sneaky Spy might never have heard it, but that's what burglar alarms were for. He had deactivated his devices upon entering the house.

"No sense in alarming anyone," thought Percy.

The man entered, walked to the hallway, and was jumped at by Percy.

The Sneaky Spy fought the man, and eventually knocked him unconscious.

"And he never even saw me in the dark," thought  the Sneaky Spy, "but I'll wear a fine pair of pyjamas instead of this lot, before I call for Higgins. As well as that, it always does well to mess one's hair up, in order to give the impression of having slept for a while. To play it safe, Percy tranquilised the man, before switching the light on. It was the same sniper who had tried to shoot him that first night in Colin's garden.

"So there are other skills in his repertoire," thought the Sneaky Spy.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"What, you too?" croaked the inspector, "There are other policemen visiting a place in Warrawee which has just been knocked off. Some fuss about an exploding door, I have been told."

"Well I've caught my guest. Would you like him? Chances are, he's the one who's been making a habit of it tonight."

*          *          *          *

 

Higgins locked the man in a cell for the night, and decided to enjoy some sleep, as Percy would do, before they visited the sniper and housebreaker's employer in the following morning.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Inspector Higgins and the Sneaky Spy discovered that their arrival had interrupted an instrumental violin session of Colin's. He showed them in, and looked startled.

"I wonder whether it's my lively state, or the presence of Higgins which surprises him more," thought Percy.

"I was hoping," said Higgins, "that you could give me some answers about the theft of a ruby from a house in Warrawee last night."

"Why should I know anything about it?" asked Colin.

"Why indeed?" asked Higgins, "and why should I have this man's unwanted houseguest in one of my holding cells this morning, when he's an escaped convict who claims to work for you?"
"He didn't claim it immediately, but when I told the inspector about his efforts in your garden a few nights ago, he decided to confess," said the Sneaky Spy.

"Well I don't have to answer your questions. My music is important to me, and I would like to return to it, Mister Dale," said Geoffries, reaching to pick his violin up from where he had left it on a cupboard top.

"You'll put that thing down, and answer my questions now!" snapped Higgins, seizing the violin with a jolt that caused something to fall out onto the floor. It wasn't a large something. It was small and red.

"Well what do we have here?" said the inspector.

Geoffries fumed into a scarlet mixture of facial rage and fear.

"It... it must have been him, inspector. He did it to set me up."

"This man has been awoken from his sleep by your other burglar," said Higgins, "It's absurd for you to suggest that Percy Dale was the thief. I've known him to pull off some exciting stunts, but most of them were for the direct assistance of those who enforce the law. You are under arrest...."

Geoffries resisted arrest for as long as he could, but the Sneaky Spy was willing to assist the inspector with the necessary task.

"Look at my back door! I had to get a new lock and handles for it. I was raided myself by some prowler last night."

"A likely cover, prearranged to divert suspicion away from yourself," said the inspector, but it's going to take a lot more than that to get you out of this one."

 

*          *          *          *

 

The following conversation occurred after Percy was excused from the police station. Inspector Higgins had planned it that way. The Sneaky Spy had made his statement about snipers and burglars. Now the inspector had news of his own to impart. Percy was not to be there.

 

*          *          *          *

 

"So you really think that all we've got on you is two minor cases concerning Percy Dale, do you?" said Higgins.

"Yes," grated Geoffries.

"Well they are relatively minor compared to all the other things you've done under your real name. I've been after you for a long time. You've been dyeing your hair and shaving off the beard and moustache you used to have. I am not worried about proving your guilt over that ruby. That will happen anyway, but there is so much more to account for in your case," said Higgins.

"So where do your false accusations start?" said Geoffries.

"With your music. That violin is not an ordinairy one. You remember where you stole it from, don't you?"
"I don't know what you mean."

"That's alright. The owner will recognise it."

"Maybe I bought it from a fence, unwittingly of course."

"Maybe you can prove that."

"He's closed down."
"You know, this could go on for hours, if you're not going to confess anything," said the inspector.

"After which you'll admit your mistakes."

"After which I won't. I'll present you with all the preludes you'll need for the prosecution side of your impending court hearings. Then you will wait it out, before you start a much longer waiting period. You're going to be nothing more than material for future university law students to look over when preparing their assignments. How does that grab your pathetic mind, Geoffries, or is it Alfrench? You'd make it all so less drawn out on yourself, and all so much easier on me, if you made some confessions now. I might even try to have it taken into consideration at your trial!"

 

“I can’t believe how devoted you’ve become to me,” said Ingrid the following night, “Come to think of it, I see now that you were always that devoted to me. I’m the one who’s become devoted. I guess my tastes in men have really changed.”

If she only knew how much he appreciated what he thought had been an unintentional pun on the phrase ‘tastes in men’.

“Do you think they’ll ever change again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I have something to show you, something I knew (during every minute of that last adventure) that I wanted to buy, but only had time to buy today,” said Percy, taking out an engagement ring, “Will you marry me, Ingrid?”

 

 

 “Will you answer me one question first?”

“Anything,” he said, hoping it would not be another question about the likelihood of him being her shrunken meals, but prepared to admit it if it was the question she asked.

“When I was hoping we’d get together after our Smiling Island reunion, I told someone else that I needed you to simply understand that I had changed, rather than forgive my initial teenaged response to you. I needed to be the girl I was then in order to become the woman I am now. In an ideal world, they may not have been so, but I liked my ex-husband very much when I first met him. I was so attracted to everything about him, that I couldn’t see how attracted I could have been to you. I had him then and you now. Can you accept that?”

“Is that all? It was never an issue. I couldn’t help loving you even then,” he said.

“Then I will marry you,” said Ingrid.

They hugged and kissed for some time.

They decided to keep their engagement secret for a while, as Ingrid said she wanted some time to enjoy being engaged to him without entertaining a series of questions from other people.

One night they went to bed together, and Percy felt elated at how wonderful it would be waking up to her as his wife every morning. He began to wonder about continuing the shrinking games though. As his wife, she might not be so understanding about him having a secret locked room, even though he claimed it was for Sneaky Spy paraphernalia and scientific experiments. He dropped off to sleep without having come to any solution.

Ingrid had been married. Percy was a virgin, but this was no matter to him at all. If anything he felt that it added one more element of excitement to his relationship with her.

He awoke the following morning, before the sun had arisen, to find that he seemed to be alone in the dark bedroom. There was no familiar feel of Ingrid beside him. He called to her and got out of bed, wondering if she’d gone for water or was feeling sick.

He bumped into something hard but not a wall. He felt in front of him and felt bars. Somehow one of his enemies had imprisoned him, but he had no idea which one, let alone how it had been done. What must they have done to Ingrid, after all he had done to keep her safe from Colin Geoffries? Did the man have contacts on the outside of prison?

Suddenly he heard movement, and then a light was turned on.

To his surprise, Ingrid had turned on a light outside the prison cell, which wasn’t a prison cell at all, but a small cage, with Percy inside it, shrunken. The cage was resting on a table in his laboratory, and beside that was his shrinking and teleportation machine.

He checked his fingers. His ring was not there, which was no surprise, as he only put it on himself when he shrank. Ingrid would not have known about it.

“I began to join some dots,” she said, walking over and looking into the cage as she sat down on the carpet beside the table, her high head just below him, “For one thing, the appearances of shrunken boys or men in my life, who incidentally were always age compatible with you, have been concurrent with your presence in my life. The second thing was the fact that, on the one hand you gave me a key to your house, but on the other, you never gave me a key to this room. It was easy enough to take yours after I put some sleeping tablets into the dessert you were cooking last night. Now you know why I didn’t feel like the dessert. I don’t know how you’ve been setting the recall mechanism on this machine, but that’s what you must have been doing. I had no trouble working out how to reduce you with it though, and you certainly haven’t had any opportunity to set a recall mechanism this time.”

“Touché, Ingrid,” he said.

“The only question is: why did you keep doing it?”

“You liked eating me, every me.”

“Was that the only reason?”

“I liked it too. I loved it, Ingrid. It’s why I had to save you from Smiling Island. I never forgot how much I loved the pleasant surprise when you did it the first time.”

“Well I thought I might give you the chance to enjoy it once more,” said Ingrid, “But I think you can see that this means our engagement is off.”

“You outwitted me, fair and square.”

“You better believe I did. This is one trap the Sneaky Spy will never escape from.”

“From my favourite villainess.”

“Flattery will get you … about as far as my stomach.”

“I wouldn’t have had things turn out any other way that didn’t involve all that’s happened between us,” said Percy.

“Still sweet,” she said, and opened the cage and took him out and kissed him, “Those pills really knocked you out. You’ve been asleep until mid afternoon. I’ve had breakfast and lunch without you, but you certainly won’t be left out of dinner.”

“I had a hunch,” said Percy.

Ingrid smiled adorably, while Percy enjoyed the new thrill. This time there were no easy escapes, none at all if she had her way.

Ingrid carried him to the bedroom, where she showed him that his real bed was still there. She had found a dolls house bed and cage for him while he’d slept. She lay down on the bed and let him climb all over her upper body, something that he hadn’t even enjoyed when they were teenagers.

“Did you suspect that day at the school fair?” he asked.

“I had a vague idea, but of what I wasn’t sure. You just tasted so nice in both of your sizes. I forgot to mention that as my first clue. Now that I know what happened, it’s easy enough to guess how you pulled off that ruse at home the same night.”

Ingrid pressed her giant lips to him.

“That was lovely,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so, but I’ve already been married. You realise that this time is your last, don’t you?”

“Yes. In a way it’s also a first. It’s the first time you’ll be eating me, knowing that it’s me. That’s a new thrill. In a way I’ve always wanted that, but known it could only be done once before the game was given away. Now that you’ve got me, we might as well do it.”

“We’ll see if you’re sounding so cooperative when I get you into the oven,” she said, “I won’t make it too hot for you, but it is traditional to cook a meal first, and you do have a fine dining table.”

Some of the old mockery was back. This was the first time he was enjoying it as much as he had when they had been teenagers.

There was just one thing, he thought, as Ingrid dozed off. He had enjoyed being eaten several times, but he had never enjoyed being married.

“I might as well try to get away,” he thought, “If it doesn’t work, she’ll eat me. If it does, I might get back to the machine, or instruct someone how to build another one and restore me.”

He noticed that her head was in the centre of the pillow. It was not resting on either side. He opened the end of the pillowslip and pulled several pieces of pillow foam out, tearing hard with his hands, until he had enough to cushion his fall. Then he dropped it all on the floor and jumped to land on the pile.

He looked to see that the balcony door was open, but there was no way he could cart all that foam over and drop it to the garden in a safely grouped pile to cushion his fall, and it wouldn’t work from that height anyway. Besides that, she would almost certainly awaken and capture him. He might as well go for the shrinking machine in the laboratory.

He ran over, slid under the door and ran along the hallway. He was just passing the door of the room before the laboratory, when he heard Ingrid stirring.

“So we’re trying for a comeback, are we?” he heard her call.

He ducked under the nearby door and into the spare room, heard Ingrid open the bedroom door and run along the hallway into the laboratory.

“When she doesn’t find me in the machine, she’ll guess the only place I could have gone,” he thought, “I’ve got to hide quick, and well!”

He noticed there was enough sunlight in the room to light his way, and darted towards an old television set which lay on the carpet with its back to him. It had a wooden board panel with holes at the back, just large enough for him to get into. He climbed up and into it, and peeked out of a smaller hole as Ingrid came into the room and turned the light on. She was towering beautifully. The suspense was the most arousing thing to date. This time they were both playing for keeps, and they both knew that they were playing for Percy Dale.

He watched her tall shapely powerful legs striding around the room, as she looked in various places. Finally her eyes came upon the television set. He ducked back and hid behind a valve or transistor or whatever was inside it. James Hamilton might have known by feel, but he could not see what was concealing him. Ingrid peeked in, but could not see him. She got up and left the room.

“I guess I’ll have to ride it out here until she’s left the house,” he thought, “I hope she doesn’t do anything to incapacitate the shrinking machine before she goes.”

He waited for some time and then heard Ingrid come back into the room … with a screwdriver visible in her hand. He ducked back behind the object which had concealed him before, and listened to her unscrewing the board from the back of the television set. As soon as it was removed, he saw her fingers reaching around. They knocked against him, knocking him into view.

“I seem to recall a few clever puns as your previous selves met their nonesuch fate,” said Ingrid, smiling proudly, “But you’re about to be a TV DINNER, Percy.”

Ingrid took him downstairs, put him in the oven and walked happily around the kitchen preparing herself for the meal to end all meals. Soon she came over, licked her finger and touched him with it.

“Warm enough, and just as delicious and cute looking as ever,” she said, “Are you ready for our final dinner date, Percy?”

“Sure am,” he said, “I couldn’t decide whether to face it or get my size back and get married. You sure helped me make up my mind.”

“Even if I believe that, it won’t do you any good,” she said, and put him on a plate and carried it to the dinner table.

She sat down, licked her lips several times, lifted Percy up, gave him an enormous kiss, and a generous view of her partly visible breasts.

“That dress is magnificent, and so are you,” he said, “I never stopped thinking of you or comparing every girl to you throughout those years between our two meetings.”

“That I know and believe,” she said.

“And I know from what you told my second shrunken self that you’ll always remember this meal,” he said.

“And the others … if I live to be 100,” she said, “But I can’t remember what I haven’t started. Thanks for everything, Percy. It’s been fun, and you’re a true romantic. Down you go.”

She put out her tongue this time, and slid him along it, into her mouth, and then held his leg as she drew her tongue in, so that it didn’t take him down her throat straight away. Instead, it slid under him as it retracted, while his position remained constant. He lay on her tongue recalling all their happy times together, and then saw her open her mouth and felt her tapping him on the back of the leg.

“She wants me to turn around,” he thought.

He rolled his body around, until he was facing the front of her mouth and saw that she was positioning a pocket mirror in front of her mouth. She wanted him to see the final movement that drew him into her throat.

 

“Thanks for the view,” he called, “You look better than ever.”

Ingrid absorbed the compliment, and then slowly angled her tongue upward, so that he began to slide, but not steep enough to obscure his view of the mirror. He slowly reached her throat, and stopped just inside the upper part of it. He recalled the powerful gulping with which she had easily despatched him in the past. This time he had an incentive to fight against that. He stretched his body out as much as he could, and pushed against Ingrid’s throat.

He was still incredibly aroused, despite the danger he was in. He heard a laugh coming up from her throat and realised she was about to gulp. Ingrid had a far more powerful advantage, and he was trapped inside her, no matter how things turned out. Yet he wanted to prolong the adventure for as long as he possibly could, knowing that once she had succeeded in despatching him to her stomach, she would go on with her life and hold him only in her memories.

Ingrid began to gulp, and he felt the incredible pressure. For her, it was merely a gesture which took a minimum of effort, he considered. She would be sitting at the table enjoying the process, while he fought with all his strength to keep her from gobbling him down any further.

Ingrid’s throat was wet. He realised that he was in fact still pressed against her tongue. Though not visible from the outside, the tongue starts somewhere down inside the throat. It was hard to gain any friction when pressing against it. Percy felt himself slipping further down.

Then he suddenly felt his legs get caught in some opening. It was not below him, where he had been gulped several times before, but beside him. Percy pushed with his hands, and his legs went into the opening. Then he lost his grip, and his upper body fell over, dangling into her throat. He reached up with his hands to pull himself into the opening, and then eased his whole body into it.

He was surrounded by a soft inner part of Ingrid’s upper body, which was moving constantly. He felt the air, and then deduced where he was.

“I’ve made it into her lungs,” he thought, “She can’t swallow me any more now. I can’t ever get out, but she can’t ever gulp me down to her stomach either.”

Ingrid must have known what he had done, but was powerless to get at him. The safest place for him had turned out to be within her own body.

“My turn to say touché,” he heard her say, “But at least I’ve stopped you recalling yourself to your machine.”

For the next few weeks, he lived in her lungs, occasionally crawling out to the opening while she was eating, to catch pieces of falling food while they were still fresh, long before they would otherwise have reached her stomach. They sustained him, and allowed him to lie in her lungs and think about her.

One day she started speaking again.

“I’m constantly aware that you’re in my lungs,” she said, “I can so often feel you there. It makes it hard to put the thought of gulping you down out of my head. I’ll make you a deal, and you can trust me on my word of honour about this. I’ve never lied to you, have I, regardless of how menacing my conquests of you have been. I’m going to lie down. If you come into my throat, I’ll let you climb towards my mouth, and then turn you loose in the garden. I’ll go inside for the rest of the day, and make no effort to hunt you down until the next day. If you can make it back to your machine before I find and catch you, I will marry you. If I catch you first, I will use your machine to make you just a little bit smaller, so that you can’t slow your fall in my throat. Then I will gulp you down so fast that you’ll never have a chance to escape to my lungs again. If you think that such a challenge would put an end to this stale mate, I’ll expect you to climb out soon.”

He thought for a few minutes and decided that it was worth it either way … especially since he had an advantage. He didn’t have to make it to his machine, but only to the ring. She didn’t know about it.

“Good to see you again,” said Ingrid, as he emerged from her mouth onto the pillow beside her head.

“You look lovely as ever,” said Percy.

Ingrid took him down to the garden and put him down on the grass. Then she lay down on her stomach with her face right in front of him, resting on her hands. She had brought him down in her right hand, but he noticed something which took his breath away. Ingrid had removed her engagement ring and replaced it with his homing signal ring. He remembered that he had last left it on his bedside table. She must have chosen to wear a piece of his jewellery that no longer signified engagement, when she found the ring, and had no knowledge of its power to rescue him from her mercy.

Now it would be so much harder and riskier to get at it. He had to get close to her, which involved the greatest risk of recapture, in order to do it.

Ingrid gave him a slow farewell kiss.

“Good luck. You’ll need it,” she said, and true to her word, she got up and went inside.

In the days ahead, Percy made a rope from fallen small garden vines, and tied it to a hook from a suitably shaped large twig. He managed to hook it around various structures in the wall far below his upstairs bedroom one day, and climbed each stage, until he reached the balcony. He slipped under the door and climbed up onto his bed and hid under the bed clothes and waited until Ingrid went to bed that night.

He had positioned himself on the far side, where the sheet and blanket were always tucked in, so that she would not notice him or roll onto him as she slipped into the bed. In the darkness, he heard her huge incredible body settling beside him, and then waited until he could estimate where her left hand would be.

He knew that she would be wearing the ring. It would have made things so much easier if she had been in the habit of removing it while she slept, but he knew from their last meeting, that she must have been wearing it while she had been lying down to allow him to take up her challenge. He must not let her know that he was anything other than a rumpled portion of sheet, as he felt about for the ring. To that end, he would always grab a bit of sheet, rumple it himself and use it like a glove, and touch her hand ever so softly, as he felt about for the ring.

It was awesome to consider that he was playing with a hand that could easily grip him inescapably, if she learned he was there. At last his hand came to rest on the ring. He could grip it just a little more strongly and without the sheet, because she would not feel it unless it moved, unlike the effects would have been of him touching his own skin against her actual fingers. Her hand seemed to be on its side at the moment. He ran each of his hands down either side of the ornament until he felt the circular ring itself.

He tensed up, anxious and considered the scale of the risk he now had to take. From what he could hear, she had fallen asleep during his search. Yet the moment he tugged on that ring, he would awaken her and alert her to his presence. He had to be able to activate the homing signal the moment he got the ring off her finger, and before she could grab him.

He tensed himself, prepared to act, and then stopped. It took him several attempts to summon up the determination to go ahead. He finally considered the alternative: hiding out indefinitely, if she didn’t find him first.

Percy wrenched the ring from her finger, felt her stirring and saw some light as she turned on the bedside table reading light. He put the ring around his neck, as it would not fit anywhere else, having not been reduced with him this time, as he saw the bedclothes pulled off. Ingrid sat up instantly, revealed in light in a beautiful nightgown. In that split second he saw her beautiful giant face gaping down at him with a mixture of realisation and resolve. He turned the ring, and the signal did its work.

“So that’s your-…” he heard her say, just before he was taken from the bedroom to reappear at the machine.

He knew that the remaining words of her sentence would have been “way of activating the recall mechanism.”

He heard her stepping out of bed and running to the door. She would be down the hallway and enter the laboratory in less than a minute. He felt for the controls in the darkness, as he heard Ingrid running down the hallway, and threw the full-sized ring away from the machine, which restored his full size just before she burst into the room. Percy dived for the ring and put it back on his finger.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said, “I believe this means you’ll be able to start wearing another ring again anyway. If I let you stay, can I take your word that there’ll be no more spiking my food and drink with sleeping pills?”

“I promise,” she said.

“I’ll really enjoy walking down the aisle with you after this,” he said.

“In a way, so will I,” Ingrid sighed.

He put out his arms for a hug, and she met him half way and they were soon kissing.

 

Several nights later, they were snuggling together in his bed.

“I really enjoyed the chase that night I hunted you down and caught you in the TV set,” she said.

“I can look back on that with some fondness too now,” he said, “What I really miss is being eaten over and over.”

“Tell me about it,” she said, “They were all you, but that only makes it better knowing I kept eating you, thinking it was a permanent conquest.”

“I can’t shrink myself anymore, now that you know. You’d have really gulped me down forever and had a happy life without me, if you’d won, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ll just have to settle for a happy life WITH you,” said Ingrid.

“That’ll have to be good enough for both of us,” said Percy.

 

Half an hour later, Ingrid spoke again.

“What if I gave my word again each time?” she said.

“You mean, to let me go after each ‘eating game’, so we could do it again,” said Percy.

At this stage, they had known and loved and outwitted each other for so long, that they had that rare ability of couples to finish each other’s thoughts and sentences.

“I admit the deal is loaded slightly in your favour. You’ll get all the gobbling thrills you like out of it, without ever having to pay the full price,” said Ingrid, “But I can pretend it’s forever each time, and then let you recall yourself. I’ll never shrink you without you wearing your ring. At least I’ll get to eat you over and over again.”

“Ingrid! I don’t know what to say.”

“I guess I owe you a concession, after all you’ve done for me, all you’ve been through for me. To think that you saved my life at least once, knowing what I didn’t at the time, that I had eaten YOU, when I was dating that creep. We could have some great hunts and chases in that large lovely set of gardens you have here? Will you trust me to always eat you only temporarily?”

How nice it would feel, in the months ahead, to be re-introducing Ingrid to his friends as her fiancé, and to be preparing to marry her; now that things had turned out this way.

“Oh Ingrid, I love you more than ever. What a marriage we’ll have!”

“I think so too, and Percy, I love you more than my ex-husband. I always will. If I had gone on to marry someone else after you’d been consigned to my stomach, I’d still have loved you most of all, though my way of showing it would have been different.”

“Those are the two most wonderful things that have ever been said to me, and I’m going to give you a concession too. I know from things you said during our encounters with Colin Geoffries and the Kings Cross drug lords, that you’d be much happier without my Sneaky Spy activities. I know now that they were the substitute source of adventures for me, begun when I thought I’d never see you, let alone be eaten by you again. I neither need nor want that lifestyle now. I’m going to stop.”

“Thank you, my love,” said Ingrid and kissed him passionately.

 

Two months later, at their engagement party, Ingrid and Percy were standing alone together in a corner of the room. Percy lifted a large prawn towards Ingrid’s mouth.

“May I do the honours?” he asked.

Ingrid opened her mouth and practically sucked the prawn from his fingers.

She swallowed it and then gave a quiet laugh.

“I’ve just realised what occasions like this must have been like for you all those years between our teens and our reunion,” she said, “You couldn’t have gone to any party and watched any pretty girl eat anything, without dreaming of riding her tongue, and any other girl would have let you into her mouth without gulping you down, I’d expect.”

“That and your greater beauty are what make you so special. I never showed that machine or my shrunken self to anyone else. I only ever thought of riding tongue with you.”

“You are so sweet!” said Ingrid, “I could just … eat you all up!”