“You will take tea?” asked Lady Tor.

“Indeed. Thank you,” replied the Captain.

“I hope,” she continued, pouring two cups, “that Mr West met with no misadventure during the night. It is past 11 and still he is not risen.”

“I expect he is quite well,” he replied, sipping tea.

“I would not be so sure, Captain. Greater men than West have attempted what he undertook last night, and failed. Crowley himself could not tame Percy.”

“Crowley?” The Captain’s composure failed momentarily; tea spilled.

“Quite so – he and his bedmate stayed in that very room, and tried to turn out our spirit. But Percy was too clever for him – he substituted Pan in his place, and when he was summoned forth, both men fled.”

“Surely not…”

“Yes Captain,” she replied, smiling coldly, “the great Mage himself fled, screaming, from this house.”

The Captain’s cup rattled in its saucer as he set it down upon the tablecloth, rather too quicky.

“Captain, you look quite pale,” observed Lady Tor. “Will you have a slice of lemon cake?”