Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The two walkers were back. Jasfoup had suspected they might return and taken several precaution since the infamous ‘Wolf in the Walls’ incident where Felicia had all but taken the door off its hinges by travelling at speed through the cat flap.
“We’ve taken a room at the… er… pub,” said the gentleman, who displayed no ill fortune after spraining his ankle so badly.”
“The White Art,” Harold supplied. “What do you want here? This is private property, you know. We don’t do tours.”
“No, we can see that,” said the woman. “We just wondered if we could have just a little peek at your chapel.” She pointed to the mausoleum at the edge of the eastern lawn.
“Why not,” said Jasfoup. “Do come through. There are sevel ghosts in the *ahem* chapel.”
“Now that were closer,” said the woman, “it looks more like a tomb.”
“Hence the ghosts.” Jasfoup smiled. “Actually, there are so many that if I were you I’d come back tomorrow when there are no tourists. They’re frantic to get out after a fifty year sojourn in there and they’re not terribly fussy.
“They’ll haunt anybody.”