'Give it ye time, imperfect waiter!' she cried. 'All hail MsNext, beware and heed the thrice-read rule!'

'All hail MsNext, I before E except after C!' cackled the second.

'All hail MsNext!' added the third, who clearly didn't want to be left out. 'Meet a king but not be one, Read a King but not—'

'SHOO!' shouted a loud voice behind me. The three witches stopped and stared at the new visitor crossly. He was an old man whose weathered face looked as though it had been gnarled by years of adventuring across the globe. He wore a blue blazer over a polo-neck Aran sweater and on his head a captain's cap sat above his lined features, a few wisps of grey hair showing from underneath the sweatband. His eyes sparkled with life and a grimace cracked his craggy features as he walked along the path towards us. It could only be Captain Nemo.

'Away with you, crones!' he cried. 'Peddle your wares elsewhere!'

He probably would have beaten them with the stout branch he was brandishing had the witches not taken fright and vanished in a thunderclap of sound, cauldron and all.

'Hah!' said Nemo, throwing the branch towards where they had been. 'Next time I will make mincemeat of you, foul dissemblers of nature, with your hail this and your hail that!'

He looked at me accusingly.

'Did you give them any money?'

'No, sir.'

'Truthfully now! Did you give them anything at all?'

'No.'

'Good,' he replied. 'Never give them any money. It only encourages them. They'll coax you in with their fancy prophecies; suggest you'll have a new car and as soon as you start thinking you might need one – BANG! – they're offering you loans and insurance and other unwanted financial services. Poor old Macbeth took it a bit too seriously – all they were trying to do was sell him a mortgage and insurance on a bigger castle. When the Birnham wood and "no woman born" stuff all came true the witches were as surprised as anyone. So never fall for their little scams – it'll drain your wallet before you know it. Who are you, anyway?'

'Thursday Next,' I said, 'I'm standing in for—'

'Ah!' he muttered thoughtfully. 'The Outlander. Tell me, how do escalators work? Do they have one long staircase that is wound up on a huge drum and then rewound every night, or are they a continuous belt that just goes round and round?'

'An – um – continuous belt.'

'Really?' he replied reflectively. 'I've always wondered about that. Welcome to Caversham Heights. I am Captain Nemo. I have some coffee on the stove – I wonder whether you would grant me the honour of your company?'

I thanked him and we continued to walk along the lake's edge.