The next morning, it was the insistent knocking on the door, followed by his landlady’s familiar voice, that woke him up.
‘Breakfast in ten minutes, Mr. Harry.’
‘Right-Ho,’ he mumbled, turning over and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he did so, last night’s events started flooding back, making him wince at the memory. He peered over the side to see if the object of his thoughts was still there.
The sight of Prince spread out happily on the carpet convinced him that he hadn’t dreamed it all and reminded him of the problem that confronted him, and one he had to try to solve, if he was to remain sane.
What on earth was he going to do about it? The recollection of what Prince had told him was so bizarre he still couldn’t take it in. All that talk about his valet being a magician and tu
