“Oh, hello,” said Samuel.

“Ah,” said the Polite Monster. “I’m terribly sorry for intruding—nine letters, ‘to force oneself in without invitation’—but I was hoping that you could tell me where I am?”

Samuel was still wary.

“Where do you think you are?”

“I can tell you where I was a moment ago,” said the Polite Monster. “I was doing a crossword puzzle in my cave. Tricky one. Two down, eight letters: ‘Insecure now that the horse has bolted.’ ”

“Unstable,” said Constable Peel, who did a lot of crosswords.

“Unstable!” said the Polite Monster. “Oh that’s very good, very good. Let me just—”

It patted its person looking for something with which to write, and then it blushed, or blushed as much as a large, hairy monster could blush, which wasn’t a lot.

“Oh dear,” it said. “This is most embarrassing—twelve letters, ‘to be ill at ease.’ I appear to be completely naked.”

Another cannonball popped from the Risk box. This time it nicked Samuel’s left ear, and drew a little blood.

“Hey!” said Samuel. “That’s enough!”

He gave the box a thorough shake.

“Earthquake!” shouted the same small voice.

The Polite Monster was now attempting to cover itself with its arms. Samuel wasn’t sure why it was bothering. It really was just one big ball of fur. If it had any bits that it didn’t want seen, the fur was already doing a very good job of hiding them.

“Sorry?” said Samuel.

“Naked,” said the Polite Monster. “Five letters, ‘to be bare, or without clothes.’ ”

The dwarfs appeared, hauling behind them a large, paint-spattered sheet that had been left behind by the decorators.

“Will this do?” said Angry.

“Oh yes,” said the Polite Monster. “Anything would be better than my current situation—nine letters, ‘a state of affairs.’ ”

It arranged the sheet as best it could over its shoulders and around its hips. Jolly found a piece of rope, and the Polite Monster used it to secure the sheet. It now looked like a monster that had been cast in the role of Julius Caesar.

“Thank you, that’s much better,” said the Polite Monster.

Dan and the policemen had now joined Sam, Lucy, and the dwarfs. It was clear that they were in little danger from the Polite Monster. The Polite Monster looked curiously at the dwarfs.

“I say: little men,” it said. “Did you have an accident to make you that way—eight letters, ‘an unforeseen event or mishap’?”

“We’re dwarfs,” said Jolly. “Six letters—‘to thump someone who suggests that we’re small because something fell on our heads.’ ”

“Oh dear,” said the Polite Monster. “I seem to have offended you—eight letters—‘to cause to feel upset or annoyed.’ I really am most dreadfully sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” said Jolly.

He hadn’t wanted to beat up the Polite Monster anyway. Even if he’d been able to, it wouldn’t have been, well, polite.

“And in answer to your question,” Jolly continued, “you’re on Earth, in Biddlecombe, in Wreckit & Sons’ toy shop. And it’s not a good place to be right now.”