Prim considered this and made a show of straightening the bodice of her travelling suit, carefully checking all the buttons. “I suppose so. But what does it mean?”

Rue shrugged. “I’ve absolutely no clue but I think we had better put this slim travel memoir in a safe place.”

“My brother’s library?”

“Good idea. We might have a hard time finding it again but then so would anyone else. He’s up top right now – shall we risk it?”

They made their way out of the stateroom but not before Prim had put a hand on Rue’s arm.

Oh dear, thought Rue, here it comes.

“You thought you were going to get out of it,” said Prim. Rue’s expression was wary.

“Very well, if you must. Go on.”

“Rue, and I mean this most kindly, but perhaps in future you should act with a little bit more prudence.”

“Oh, ha ha, thank you very much. Is that all?”

“And I shall be writing a letter to your mother to post as soon as we land in India on the subject of your choices thus far.”

“You are a very hard-hearted female.”

Prim made a kissy face at her and that was that. No further scolding was needed – twenty years of friendship has its benefits.

The two ladies made their way to Percy’s quarters, one half of which was also the ship’s library. The suite had started out as one of the largest but now looked as if it were the smallest. The arched chamber was a warren of books with stacks and shelves and piles everywhere. The beams supporting the deck above were the only component of the Custard still visible. Somewhere there must be walls but it was difficult to spot any. There was no doubt in either of their minds that Percy had some manner of organisation system in place, but they couldn’t figure it out.

“Yoo-hoo?” called Rue into the stacks in case there was someone else infiltrating.

Footnote appeared, stretched at them in his version of a bow and sniffed their shoes. They stood still, allowing him to do so until, gatekeeper-like, he magnanimously began leading them through the books, tail high.

“Lady Captain?” Virgil appeared, wearing an apron and carrying one of Percy’s boots, obviously in the middle of blacking them.

Footnote sniffed his feet and then flopped over on top of them.

“Ah, Virgil, you wouldn’t clock a tick about Professor Tunstell’s filing system, would you?” asked Rue.

“Not exactly, captain. Of course, you could always ask one of the ladders.”

“Pardon?” said Rue.