Stranger things have happened. I am a Watcher; I witness the unusual on a daily basis. But this does not disqualify the sense of loss I feel when the animated corpse-girl abandons the safety of my arms and follows the harlequin into the calliope carriage. It is time to act.

Without wasting a moment, I hurry back into the cottage where I find little has changed. Leo is now stoking the fire, Ivor is still reading the paper, and Carmilla is loading her stylised rifle with oak-tipped bolts. I must have entered in quite a state.

"What is it?" Leo asks presently, letting the iron fall from his paw-like grip.

"Time to hunt," Carmilla answers, without any cue from me. Curious, that one.

"The carnival has arrived," I begin. "I found the body of a young woman in the lake. At the same time, a carnival carriage happened by." My audience starts at the news of the girl, except for Ivor, who continues to read, heedless of my entrance. "It turns out she's alive, but she would not accept my help when offered." I then tell them of the patched fool and how he drew her away.

"This isn't the carnival, is it, Charlie?" asks Carmilla with concern.

I hoped this part of my past would never resurface, but it is not worth denying, especially to a marvellously intuitive Watcher like Carmilla. "Yes, it is," I answer with hesitation.

"Found it!" comes Ivor's voice suddenly from behind his copy of The Cotswolds Corruption. Spreading the paper out over the tea things, Ivor enthusiasticaly points out the circles, arrows and shorthand he's scribbled across the pages. "The carnival has arrived," he starts. Carmilla and I exchange smirks. "The Baron will be attending the attraction this afternoon..." Ivor continues, squinting at the print. "...during which time there will be a window of opportunity to enter Drakesheath Hall and find the chest."

"Yes, but how will you find the key?" Leo wisely asks. "You will still need that to open the chest, supposing you find the latter."

Carmilla beats me to the answer: "Charlie's left a psychic imprint upon the key. That will be the easy part."

"And if it's on his person?" Leo adds.

Carmilla and I fall silent. Ivor's metaprint message is still valuable. We have an opportunity, though no guarantee of finding anything. Still, it's better than nothing. Fetching our coats, hats, and sticks, the three of us leave the little cottage where Smythe, Hawkins, and Niafer are still conducting Ordo Orbis Albus business.

In the carriage house, I introduce one of the contraptions used by my friend Julian, the former resident. I pull away the large, heavy tarp, revealing the fine, chestnut-coloured machine. "It's a steam motor-carriage," I explain. Made to seat four, the carriage is navigated by a tiller-wheel. Acceleration is managed by a foot-pedal, and a large lever to the right of the driver engages and releases the brake. The machine is a beautiful carriage of brass, mahogany, velvet plush, and leather. Two lamps are mounted at the front corners, and a large stovepipe looms in the rear.

"After you," I smile, opening the door for Miss Van Hasding. My friends climb in, and I rotate the large crank-key in the back of the carriage. The motor churns and roars to life, puffs of steam emerging from the top of the stovepipe. I am the last into the carriage. Squeezing down the latch on the brake, I swing down the lever and the carriage rolls forward. With a little pressure on the pedal, we accelerate and rumble down the lane, toward Drakesheath Hall.