“So we went back downstream again. We had to find a way through that wall; that was our best chance. But after trying quite a few ideas that didn’t work, and having many arguments, each worse than the last, it began to look as if our group would break up and go separate ways. It was Rigel who finally saved us. We had landed him on one of the side-tunnels, where he had toddled off by himself…”

Harvey was lifting the steaming beaker of Essence of Merlin to his lips when the doorbell rang, playing the chorus of Hebrew slaves from Nabucco in full harmony.

“Blast,” Harvey muttered. “Who could be calling at this hour? From Italy, no less?”