Like before, there was no transition, no warning, nothing. One moment I was in the Cambrensis about to get busted, the next I was under the oak. I sat up and looked around. I wasn’t Webster any more, I was Don Hector. My skin hung slackly from my jowls, my limbs ached and my vision felt dim and constricted. The fuzziness was still there on my left-hand side, and deep inside my chest I could feel a rattle that I knew was not a passing infection, but a funeral march.

I climbed unsteadily to my feet and looked around. The blue Buick was there, the Morpheleum was there on the horizon, the picnic was all laid out – and Mrs Nesbit was there, the wavy bluish aura crackling around her.

‘We know of a remote farm in Lincolnshire where Mrs Buckley lives. Every July—’

She didn’t get to finish. Her voice was abruptly cut out by the other voice, the hectoring Mrs Nesbit that didn’t match the mouth of the shimmering vision. This time, I recognised it. The Notable Goodnight.

‘Worthing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you there, under the oak, in the sun, the blue Buick and the picnic close by?’

‘Yes,’ I said, staring at where I could see a hand hiding behind a flower a few paces away.

‘Where did you go just now? You were dreaming of something. Was it relevant to our search for the cylinder?’

‘No,’ I replied quickly, ‘just some stuff from the Pool – a memorable game of indoor cricket when Billy DeFroid knocked the hand off the statue of St Morpheus, then mended it with chewing gum while sitting on the shoulders of Ed Dweezle.’

‘That’s very interesting,’ said Mrs Nesbit.

‘Is it?’

‘No. It’s probably the least interesting thing I’ve heard. There’s only one dream I want to hear about, and that’s the one that contains the cylinder. We need to know where it is. We need it back.’

I knew now what the cylinder was, at least physically: a recording cylinder, probably made of wax and with an audio soundtrack, and hidden up the chimney back at the Cambrensis.

‘The one that Kiki is after?’ I asked.

There was a pause.

‘That’s right, Worthing. The one that Kiki is after.’

‘What’s on the cylinder?’ I asked.

‘Nothing that concerns you. Just try and remember who Don Hector gave it to, or where it is now. It’s important. Try and get to the Morpheleum. You may have better luck than the others.’

‘Others?’

‘I meant  . . . the other time you tried.’