Disclaimers: as before.

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When they had rounded the edge of the building and paused to take stock, Sydney was relieved to discover that Nigel was not that angry with her. He had, he claimed, become almost blasé to the sheer volume of humiliation that was being piled upon him. Anyway, he told her, she had retrieved him from a situation that he was glad to depart, even if she could have devised a more subtle method.

Sydney laughed. 'Sorry, maybe I was a little blatant. What do you think of the outfit?' She twirled. Nigel complemented her, and then eyed the riding crop nervously.

'What's that for?'

'It was all part of the costume. Does it scare you?' She lightly flicked it at his shoulder.

'Yes, if you're going to wave it at me like that, it does!' Nigel scowled, although he did find her get-up tantalisingly sexy. 'You still owe me one, remember?'

'Okay, Nigel. I'm sorry. Again. I just keep on getting rather carried away with the…atmosphere and the costumes.'

'Yes, well, I just love the costumes,' said Nigel sarcastically.

'You don't look so bad!' said Sydney, honestly. 'I can't say the breaches do it for me, but the waistcoat and shirt are quite sexy.'

'Really?' asked Nigel. He'd forgive anything that made him look sexy to Syd, and recalled her little suggestion about the hay.

'Really, it looks great,' she affirmed, then added thoughtfully, 'although maybe you ought to be slightly, well, dirtier. You know, more outdoorsy and rugged, like you've been doing some manual work, or something. Girls like that.'

Nigel was mortified and slightly resentful. She didn't fancy him like this, after all! 'Well, I'm sorry if I don't quite come up to scratch as your pseudo-historical, vaguely sadomasochistic female-fantasy!' Nigel folded his arms and leant back against the castle wall. 'Hmph.'

'I didn't say that...you're very sexy as you are! I mean it.' Sydney was perplexed. Part of her wanted to tell Nigel that she had uttered her previous sentiments carelessly. Sure, she liked 'rugged' men, but Nigel also fulfilled certain fantasies of hers, just as he was. Then again, when she fancied a guy, she usually let them know it without all this teasing. Maybe she really did like torturing him? Was she that evil?

Her sensible side decided it was time to move the topic of conversation swiftly on. 'Anyway, I'm glad I got you away from those people. I honestly do need your assistance. I was thinking: this Lord Bannockburgh is proving rather elusive. He didn't greet his guests. Have you met him yet?'

'No,' replied Nigel, also glad that the subject of discussion had changed. 'I was wondering about him as well. Apparently, he'll be here for dinner. He likes to remain enigmatic until then.'

'I'll see what I can get out of him tonight, then,' decided Sydney. 'For now, I figured we ought to have a look around the grounds. Will have our work cut out with the castle tonight, and there might be some clues around here.'

'Good idea,' Nigel was glad that they were back to business. 'Where shall we start?'

'Well, dressed as we both are, maybe we should start at the stables. Where are they?'

'I have absolutely no idea,' admitted Nigel.

'Some stable boy, you are!' laughed Sydney, and they set off to explore the estate.

…………..

In search of the stables, Sydney and Nigel passed through a formally laid out garden at the side of the house, planted with short, box bushes and ornamented with classical statues, mainly representing dancing nymphs. On inspection, the statues, like the ones in the library, proved to be of great antiquity. They were not Greek originals, but Roman replicas, themselves nearly two thousand years old. There was even a beautifully sculpted female nude who resembled the description given of the statue of Athena, but she certainly wasn't the Greek original that they were after.

Although walls and high trees sheltered the garden to an extent, Syd and Nigel agreed it was a travesty that such ancient works of art should be left at the mercy of the stormy Scottish elements. They were starting to get a bit of a bashing even that very afternoon. The persistent light drizzle was getting slightly heavier, the wind was getting stronger, and it looked liked they were in for a storm later. Nigel wondered ruefully whether he ought to go and jump up and down in one of the muddy puddles which were forming, on the off-chance that it might make Syd find him more attractive.

After this, however, the stables were not hard to find. The block was around the back of the house, typically designed with three wings arranged around a courtyard. Up one side, were stabled three lovingly cared for riding horses, who requested that their noses were patted. The back wing served as a barn, with a hayloft stacked with clean-looking, decorously arranged hay. On entering this area, Sydney glanced at Nigel and wondered if he was thinking what she was. Neither of them said anything.

The other wing, however, was firmly shut up, with the locked wooden doors, and securely closed shutters. Sydney rattled one of the doors. 'What's in here that somebody wants to hide?' she wondered. Nigel tried to pry open one of the shutters. 'They might give,' he told her.

'I'd rather go in through the door,' murmured Sydney, and raised her foot to kick it in.

At that moment, something or somebody moved inside the close of section of the stables. There was the clear rustle, a thump and then nothing.

'Hello?' called Sydney, 'Is there anybody there?' Nothing.

'Bob said the only people on the island were those up at the house,' Nigel whispered. 'Him, Mrs Bob, the girls, me and the guests.'

'It can't be a guest,' returned Sydney, still in an undertone. 'Lord Bannockburgh?'

'Maybe,' said Nigel doubtfully. 'It is his property; you can't just burst in on him.'

'His ancestors didn't have too much respect for property, did they?'

'Well,' said Nigel, forgetting their situation for a moment. 'That stimulating question reopens up the whole 'Elgin Marbles debate,' doesn't it? Should they be returned to the Parthenon by the British Museum, or shouldn't they? Obviously, Professor Sidney Fox has always done her best to make sure that relics have been returned, where possible, to their rightful places, but these are complex moral that we cannot overlook…' Nigel could have pursued this intellectual line of thought for hours.

Sydney looked at him, momentarily disconcerted, as he opened his mouth to develop his argument further.

'Interesting, Nigel, but can we save it?' Nigel shut his mouth and nodded. An important point, yes, but it could wait.

'Lord Bannockburgh?' called Sydney cheerfully, 'Hello? I'm one of your guests, I'd love to meet you, and to see in your, err, shed?'

Nothing. 'Hello? Anybody?'

'Right, I'm going in.' She raised her Jodhpur-clad leg, and the door fell victim to its power. The lock broke, and it swung in on its hinges.

Inside it was pitch black. There was no sound.

Sydney stepped in the doorway as Nigel peered over her shoulder. He didn't like the look of anything he couldn't see. ' I'll see if I can find some torches.'

Sydney felt for a light switch. None was forthcoming, so she said, 'Yeah, okay.'

Nigel scuttled off, and she stepped into the black.

Suddenly, there was a switching noise. A small object hurtled out of the dark, brushed by her ear, and was gone. Sydney shuddered, but she knew it was just a bat.

She sensed another scuffle in the dark. 'Another bat? A rat?' she thought, hopefully. As she moved into the room further, the door creaked shut behind her and it was pitch black. Before she could turn to let in the light, she heard a click like a torch switch, and suddenly a pallid white face was illuminated in the dark ahead of her. Sydney led out an involuntary cry of surprise. Then, her true instincts kicked in, literally. Her neat black riding boot made firm contact with the eerily lit jaw, which let out an 'oomph' noise and fell back into the darkness.

Unfortunately, in the second that Sydney paused to register where her assailant had fallen and to raise her riding crop for a possible strike, the door behind her was flung open with some force, knocking her sideways behind it. Nigel, although brandishing a pitchfork, was easily flung aside by the fleeing figure that was clad in a black cloak, with false fangs hanging half out of his genuinely bleeding mouth.

Nigel was too concerned for his boss to chase him. 'Syd?' he peered into the darkness, anxiously. Sydney Fox, her hat now unfashionably wonky, hurtled at him out of the darkness.

'Well, that was lame!'

'Sorry,' said Nigel sheepishly, still clasping his pitchfork but now placing it defensively between him and the professor.

'Not you,' said Sydney. She was mildly annoyed with Nigel for letting the man get away, but she remembered he'd had a hard day. 'That guy!' Sydney returned her hair to its immaculate previous arrangement with a few small shakes of her head. 'He was the least scary vampire I've ever seen. If he doesn't want us to go in there, there must be better ways of scaring us off. If that's all we're up against, this is going to be easy.'

Nigel sighed, and tossed his pitchfork back on the haystack. It hadn't been 'easy' so far. All that humiliation by milkmaids, then silly costumes, and now he wasn't 'rugged' enough to fulfill Syd's stableboy fantasy!

Please go straight on to chapter 5. Thanks.

Sorry for being meant to Nigel. I have an evil plot bunny. Or maybe its just me! He will get revenge on everyone, somehow!