The Well of Lost Plots (Thursday Next 3)

'But why would anyone want to kill Perkins and a talking horse?'

'I think Mathias just got in the way.'

'And Perkins?'

'Not just Perkins. Whoever killed him tried to get someone else that day.'

I thought for a moment and a sudden chill came over me.

'My Eject-O-Hat. It failed.'

Miss Havisham produced the Homburg from a carrier bag, slightly squashed from where several Mrs Danvers had trodden on it. The frayed cord looking as though it might have been cut.

'Take this to Professor Plum at JurisTech and have him look at it. I'd like to be sure.'

'But … but why am I a threat?' I asked.

'I don't know,' admitted Miss Havisham. 'You are the most junior member of Jurisfiction and arguably the least threatening – you can't even bookjump without moving your lips, for goodness' sake!'

I didn't need reminding but I saw her point.

'So what happens now?' I asked at length.

'We have to assume whoever killed him might try again. You are to be on your guard. Wait— There she is!'

We had walked over a small rise and were slightly ahead of the boat. A young woman was lying on the ground in a most unladylike fashion, pointing a sniper's rifle towards the small skiff that had just come into view. I crept cautiously forward; she was so intent on her task that she didn't notice me until I was close enough to grab her. She was a slight thing and her strugglings, whilst energetic, were soon overcome. I secured her in an armlock as Havisham unloaded the rifle. Maggie and Stephen, unaware of the danger, drifted softly past on their way to Mudport.

'Where did you get this?' asked Havisham, holding up the rifle.

'I don't have to say anything,' replied the angelic-looking girl in a soft voice. 'I was only going to knock a hole in the boat, honestly I was!'

'Sure you were. You can let go, Thursday.'

I relaxed my grip and she stepped back, pulling at her clothes to straighten them after our brief tussle. I checked her for any other weapons but found nothing.

'Why should Maggie force a wedge between our happiness?' she demanded angrily. 'Everything would be so wonderful between my darling Stephen and me – why am I the victim? I, who only wanted to do good and help everyone – especially Maggie!'

'It's called "drama",' replied Havisham wearily. 'Are you going to tell us where you got the rifle or not?'

'Not. You can't stop me. Maybe they'll get away but I can be here ready and waiting on the next reading – or even the one after that! Think you have enough Jurisfiction agents to put Maggie under constant protection?'

I'm sorry you feel that way,' replied Miss Havisham, looking her squarely in the eye. 'Is that your final word?'

'It is.'

'Then you are under arrest for attempted fiction infraction, contrary to Ordinance FMB/0608999 of the Narrative Continuity Code. By the power invested in me by the Council of Genres, I sentence you to banishment outside Mill on the Floss. Move.'

Miss Havisham ordered me to cuff Lucy, and once I had, she held on to me as we jumped into the Great Library. Lucy, for an arrested ad-libber, didn't seem too put out.

'You can't imprison me,' she said as we walked along the corridor of the twenty-third floor. 'I reappear in Maggie's dream seven pages from now. If I'm not there you'll be in more trouble than you know what to do with. This could mean your job, Miss Havisham! Back to Satis House – for good.'

'Would it mean that?' I asked, suddenly wondering whether Miss Havisham wasn't exceeding her authority.

'It would mean the same as it did the last time,' replied Havisham, 'absolutely nothing.'

'Last time?' queried Lucy. 'But this is the first time I've tried something like this!'

'No,' replied Miss Havisham, 'no, it most certainly is not.'