bore you, especially if you haven’t eaten, but that’s exactly what I am. I’m an amateur archaeologist –
full marks for guessing. And these stones are a mystery I’m determined to solve. They’re part of a very elaborate system of markers, but what they mark exactly . . . well, that’s
the mystery. They’ve been found all over the moor, though I expect you know that if you live at Ribblestrop – you study local history, I assume?’
‘No,’ said Sam.
‘Look, why don’t I get you to the road, and I can . . . well, I can drive you to the nearest supermarket, I suppose. I can at least get you fed.’
‘All of us?’ said Millie. ‘Have you got a bus parked somewhere?’
‘I’ve got a fairly big van, so it depends how small you can make yourselves. It’s in a lay-by over there – other side of that hedge. If The Priory lot haven’t towed
it away, that is. They think they own the whole earth and sky. Follow me, why don’t you? We can slip out quietly. Oh . . . too late. Dammit.’
‘Why?’ said Eric.
The children turned to look where Doctor Ellie was looking, and a voice floated over the field towards them.
‘You there! Stay where you are!’
‘Oh Lord,’ said the woman. ‘Here comes the tyrant.’
‘Who’s he?’ said Sanchez. ‘Is that the teacher?’
A large man was hurrying over the grass with another figure behind him. He had an arm raised, and his anger was obvious even at sixty or seventy metres.
‘It’s the same one as yesterday and one of the guards. He’s an absolute rogue – no manners at all.’
‘We could run,’ said Israel. ‘They don’t look too fast.’
‘Why should we?’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘We are not trespassing and I will not be chased off like a peasant. You have to stand up to these fellows.’
The two men broke into a jog and the children saw that there was yet another cluster of blue-suited children behind them. The taller of the men blew a whistle and waved. His voice floated across
the plain again. ‘Stay exactly where you are, please! You’re under arrest.’
‘He’s a history teacher,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘Can you believe that? He teaches history and knows nothing about it. They call him “Mr Ian”.’
‘Mr Ian?’ said Miles. ‘History teacher?’
She shuddered. ‘He’s completely ignorant. We’ll ignore him, I think. Follow me.’
She started walking purposefully towards the hedge and there was another long blast on the whistle.
‘I order you to stop!’ shouted Mr Ian. ‘I order you to stand still!’
Chapter Seven
Doctor Ellie held the children to a dignified walk and it was soon clear that the two men would cut them off before they reached the hedge.
There was a gate through to the road but it was padlocked. Everyone converged and Mr Ian thrust his way to the front, blocking all chance of escape. He was puffing and wheezing, and his
security-guard companion was red-faced too. This man was dressed from head to toe in black and the letters
SSS
were inscribed on both breast pocket and cap.
‘Mr Ian,’ said Doctor Ellie, politely. ‘How nice to see you again. I expect you’re going to give me a good telling off, aren’t you? But do you really think you have
the power of arrest?’
Mr Ian fought for breath. He wore a tracksuit with a shapeless tweed jacket over the top, both elbows patched. His eyes were bulging slightly and he was chewing his lips through a shaggy, sandy
beard.
‘I thought I told you,’ he said, at last. ‘I told you to . . . to stay off our land!’
‘I thought I told you,’ said Doctor Ellie, ‘that it’s not your land to control.’
‘It most certainly is.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘You had your warning. I am now—’
‘This is a path,’ said Doctor Ellie, ‘that has existed for thousands of years, and if you think your tin-pot college can privatise and close it, you’re demented. Now,
does this gargoyle have a key to the gate, or do we have to remove you and climb
full marks for guessing. And these stones are a mystery I’m determined to solve. They’re part of a very elaborate system of markers, but what they mark exactly . . . well, that’s
the mystery. They’ve been found all over the moor, though I expect you know that if you live at Ribblestrop – you study local history, I assume?’
‘No,’ said Sam.
‘Look, why don’t I get you to the road, and I can . . . well, I can drive you to the nearest supermarket, I suppose. I can at least get you fed.’
‘All of us?’ said Millie. ‘Have you got a bus parked somewhere?’
‘I’ve got a fairly big van, so it depends how small you can make yourselves. It’s in a lay-by over there – other side of that hedge. If The Priory lot haven’t towed
it away, that is. They think they own the whole earth and sky. Follow me, why don’t you? We can slip out quietly. Oh . . . too late. Dammit.’
‘Why?’ said Eric.
The children turned to look where Doctor Ellie was looking, and a voice floated over the field towards them.
‘You there! Stay where you are!’
‘Oh Lord,’ said the woman. ‘Here comes the tyrant.’
‘Who’s he?’ said Sanchez. ‘Is that the teacher?’
A large man was hurrying over the grass with another figure behind him. He had an arm raised, and his anger was obvious even at sixty or seventy metres.
‘It’s the same one as yesterday and one of the guards. He’s an absolute rogue – no manners at all.’
‘We could run,’ said Israel. ‘They don’t look too fast.’
‘Why should we?’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘We are not trespassing and I will not be chased off like a peasant. You have to stand up to these fellows.’
The two men broke into a jog and the children saw that there was yet another cluster of blue-suited children behind them. The taller of the men blew a whistle and waved. His voice floated across
the plain again. ‘Stay exactly where you are, please! You’re under arrest.’
‘He’s a history teacher,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘Can you believe that? He teaches history and knows nothing about it. They call him “Mr Ian”.’
‘Mr Ian?’ said Miles. ‘History teacher?’
She shuddered. ‘He’s completely ignorant. We’ll ignore him, I think. Follow me.’
She started walking purposefully towards the hedge and there was another long blast on the whistle.
‘I order you to stop!’ shouted Mr Ian. ‘I order you to stand still!’
Chapter Seven
Doctor Ellie held the children to a dignified walk and it was soon clear that the two men would cut them off before they reached the hedge.
There was a gate through to the road but it was padlocked. Everyone converged and Mr Ian thrust his way to the front, blocking all chance of escape. He was puffing and wheezing, and his
security-guard companion was red-faced too. This man was dressed from head to toe in black and the letters
SSS
were inscribed on both breast pocket and cap.
‘Mr Ian,’ said Doctor Ellie, politely. ‘How nice to see you again. I expect you’re going to give me a good telling off, aren’t you? But do you really think you have
the power of arrest?’
Mr Ian fought for breath. He wore a tracksuit with a shapeless tweed jacket over the top, both elbows patched. His eyes were bulging slightly and he was chewing his lips through a shaggy, sandy
beard.
‘I thought I told you,’ he said, at last. ‘I told you to . . . to stay off our land!’
‘I thought I told you,’ said Doctor Ellie, ‘that it’s not your land to control.’
‘It most certainly is.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘You had your warning. I am now—’
‘This is a path,’ said Doctor Ellie, ‘that has existed for thousands of years, and if you think your tin-pot college can privatise and close it, you’re demented. Now,
does this gargoyle have a key to the gate, or do we have to remove you and climb
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