“If my translation is correct, of which I am certain, of course, for I am never wrong in the matter of foreign tongues, then the best wording would be, well…”

He trailed off, acutely embarrassed. Wherever else this new theory was taking him, it was into questionable territory. It must be very questionable indeed to unnerve the man who once publicly hypothesised that bacon could be blamed for the explosion of Mount Vesuvius.

“Go on, Percy. Out with it,” urged Rue.

“I suppose the best way of putting it would be… weremonkeys.”

Rue couldn’t help it – she snorted a surprised laugh. It seemed so very undignified. “Men who change into monkeys?”

Percy nodded. “Very, very large monkeys.”

“Goodness, it hardly seems worth the effort. There is not so much difference, is there?”

Percy shrugged. “I suppose monkeys are stronger, faster, and can climb with greater dexterity.”

Rue cocked her head. “Climbing could be useful. So where in India might we find these Vanaras, should they exist?”

“All the various epics describe them as forest-dwelling. So, unless all my suppositions are entirely misguided––”

“Never that.”

“Exactly, highly unlikely. Your Mrs Fetherpottoot––”

“Featherstonehaugh.”

“Will be in a forest. I suspect there’s one nearby.”

“You don’t know?”

“I can’t do everything for you,” protested Percy, forgetting who’d procured him the book in the first place.

It was as good a theory as any and at least it indicated a course of action. This was a great relief to a girl of Rue’s particular character. She could now start planning. “Percy?”

“Yes, Rue?”

“Please go and find out the location of the nearest forest.”

“But, Rue, I haven’t even finished this book.”

That’s Percy for you. “Well, if you can’t help, I suppose I could ask Quesnel to check his areal…”

“You think I can’t figure it out? I have maps.”

“Of course you do, Percy.”

Rue suddenly thought of something and went to rummage about in her peach dress from that morning’s tour of Bombay.

Absentmindedly she said, “Thank you, Percy dear, you’ve been extraordinarily useful.”

Percy puffed up with pride. “Yes, well.”

Rue emerged, triumphant. From the interior of her small bag she discovered the stone monkey on the cord she’d found after the flowers exploded.

“Percy, what if Miss Sekhmet was speaking for them?”

“For whom?” Now it was Percy’s turn to be confused.

Rue showed him the little statue. “The Vanaras.”

“She was a very odd sort of woman.”

“Terribly careless of us to let her get captured like that. But why didn’t she just say something? Was that why she kept harping on about my mother? Did she think the Shadow Council knew about the weremonkeys?”