Piers said restlessly: ‘Any prophecies, Ming?’ The telegraphese from the paranormal spelled out: RID OF BADGER. I heard Britton’s puzzled voice: ‘That’s a funny thing to say.’ Olivia laughed. I imagined it was intended to...

On the way down I thought about Olivia. She descended the stairs in front of me quite jauntily. I wondered if she was finding her way into some kind of freedom, with or without the...

I didn’t want to stay any longer in my room. It was almost time, anyway, for dinner; the early dinner of the séance evenings. I went out on to the stairs. Cynthia was coming up....

The Cat settled down fairly quickly at Number 36. Within forty-eight hours she was sufficiently at home in her new surroundings to be displaying manifestations of character of apparent reliability. Leaving on one side the...

I was writing the address when Howard came in. There was something unusual about his appearance. I looked at him carefully. His blue corduroy trousers were gaping a little more widely from the tear at...

When I had got rid of Delaney there was the mail to deal with. I had picked it up the previous afternoon after three days in which I hadn’t called at the office, and there...

She stared helplessly at the parcels, each with its neat, mimeographed label: Tennyson Glebe Publications Ltd., 36, Regency Gardens, S.W.7. ‘There’s such a lot of them.’ The front door was standing open. The milkman came...

I kicked one of the parcels lying beside my feet. ‘Well, these are yours now. That’s all I’m concerned with. You can get rid of them as soon as you like.’ He pulled another copy...

On Saturday there was chaos. One of the Irish printers had somehow managed to mix up my private and registered addresses, and despatched an entire consignment of Range Round-Up to Number 36. They were dumped...

‘You think I’ve given up the idea – of going to Presley.’ I said: ‘Have you?’ ‘I don’t know.’ He half turned to look out of the window towards the flickering, grey sky. In profile...