On the other  hand, Teatime's corkscrew of  a mind was exactly the tool to deal with something like this. And if he didn't ... well, that was hardly Downey's fault, was it?

     He turned his  attention to  the paperwork  for a while. It was amazing how the stuff mounted up. But you had to deal with  it.  It wasn't as though they were murderers, after all...

     There was a knock at the door.  He pushed the  paperwork aside and  sat back.

     'Come in, Mister Teatime,'  he  said.  It  never  hurt to put the other fellow slightly in awe of you.

     In fact the door  was opened by one of the Guild's servants,  carefully balancing a tea tray.

     'Ah,  Carter,' said Lord Downey, recovering magnificently. 'Just put it on the table over there, will you?'

     'Yes, sir,' said Carter. He  turned and nodded. 'Sorry, sir,  I will go and fetch another cup directly, sir.'

     'What?'

     'For your visitor, sir.'

     'What visitor? Oh, when Mister Teati-'

     He stopped. He turned.

     There was a young man sitting on the hearthrug, playing with the dogs.

     'Mister Teatime!'

     'It's pronounced Teh-ah-tim-eh, sir,' said Teatime, with just a hint of reproach. 'Everyone gets it wrong, sir.'

     'How did you do that?'

     'Pretty well,  sir.  I got mildly scorched  on  the last  few  feet, of course.'

     There  were some lumps of soot on the  hearthrug. Downey  realized he'd heard them  fall, but  that hadn't  been particularly extraordinary. No  one could get down the chimney. There was a heavy grid firmly in place  near the top of the flue.