Brian and Steve walked briskly past the shrubberies at the back of the Hall. They had wasted half an hour being led a frustrating dance by foxes in the trees at the back of the garages that they had mistaken for intruders. Without the dogs, of course, it was near impossible to tell the difference. That the foxes were really gypsies had never occurred to them.
"That wind"s getting stronger," Brian observed. "You could hide an entire platoon out here and we wouldn"t hear a thing."
"That suggests to me that those farm women can scream all they like and no one will notice,” Steve said with a laugh. “We should visit ‘em now, while they’re all pie-eyed in the Hall.”
They suddenly found themselves confronted by two shadowy figures dressed in dark clothing and wearing cat masks. The element of
