Author's note: Sorry this took so long to get up. I'm happy that people made it through the last chapter, with all its explanation. I suppose it wouldn't seem like so much explanation if the story were longer.
Dunleavy waved the day's newspaper. "A fine night's work, Mrs. Macready," he said half-jocularly. "Here we have headlines of wolves rampaging through the capital's subway system. Panic among an already nerve-wracked populace, and all that."
Disregarding Dunleavy's needling, she asked, "Did Athanasius come up with anything new?"
"No, and what's more, he never found the bodies of the wolves that you claimed to have killed."
"What about the live ones?"
"Disappeared. Apparently gone from the Underground."
That fell in with her expectations. Once they were found out the wolves would need a new base of operations.
"Now, listen to this," Dunleavy said, with a more serious tone. He was reading the newspaper. "There were reports of wolves running down the streets, in Highbury. 'Police are uncertain if there is any connection between the sightings and the break-in of a house on Drayton Road.' Now, what would you make of that?"
"That's the first we've heard of them outside the tube stations. Highbury is miles north of the stations. Let me have the address of that house; I must get there."
He passed it to her. "If they're going to howl on the streets I suppose they have to expect to attract some sort of public attention," Dunleavy reasoned. When he looked up, though, Mrs. Macready had already muttered an 'excuse me' and was heading out of his office.
331 Drayton Road was a narrow Victorian rowhouse. It was still a handsome house of brown brick but to Mrs. Macready it had a neglected, unlived-in look. The lawn had been trimmed but there was no garden, no ornaments, or toys lying scattered. But Mrs. Macready already knew that the owner, Professor Digory Kirke, did not usually reside in this house. Once she had the address and the contact information from the police she phoned him at his country house in Lincolnshire and arranged to meet him that afternoon.
The older gentleman answering the doorbell was dressed comfortably but neatly in a cardigan. His whitening hair was getting long and tousled. "Please come in Mrs. Macready. I'm afraid the house isn't in a fit condition to receive visitors, and I haven't had a chance to prepare anything."
"Prof. Kirke, I'm pleased to meet you. There's no need to apologize. I'm not here on a social call."
"Yes, I have been wondering what the purpose of your visit was." Behind his glasses his eyes appeared puzzled, even a little suspicious.
Mrs. Macready was not inclined to soothe anyone's feelings once she was plunged into action. She stepped into the house. The extent of the damage nearly took her breath away. Every item of furniture had been tossed about. Empty drawers were strewn everywhere. Cushions and upholstery were ripped open, and clumps of stuffing lay thick on the living room rug. A kitchen window had been smashed and shards of glass lay on the counter. Mrs. Macready guessed that this is where the ransackers had broken in.
"Is it like this throughout the house?"
The Professor nodded. "Fortunately, I keep few possessions here. There was nothing worth stealing and not much to slow down their search. I'm thinking that it doesn't seem much like a routine burglary. It has a frenzied aspect to it." Prof. Kirke observed Mrs. Macready carefully.
"They were looking for something, though. Would you have any idea what it was?" She was examining the house, barely looking at the Professor.
"Mrs. Macready, I don't mean to be impolite, but I notice that you still haven't told me why you are here."
"You could think of me as a private investigator. I'm not the police; I'll make that clear. I'm not with the insurance company either. I work for an organization that's, well, unrecognized by your law. You wouldn't have heard of it, I'm sure."
"A very mysterious organization, it would seem."
"Did you know that wolves were seen on your street last night? Only a few blocks from here."
"Wolves? In Highbury? That's quite outlandish. No, I hadn't heard. I only arrived an hour ago and I haven't been reading the newspapers or listening to the radio. The police told me the house had been ransacked; they didn't mention anything about wolves. Are you sure there's a connection?"
"There aren't any claw marks on the furniture or the floors. There are no unusual hairs. They took human form in the house." Mrs. Macready looked sternly at Digory Kirke. "Professor, you are in danger. These wolves, or whatever they are, want something that they think is in this house. They won't stop at killing you to get it.
"I believe that each of us is harboring secrets from the other. What say you to sharing our secrets? Perhaps we will find that they are pieces of the complete puzzle. As the one intruding on your house, let me start."
"I'll make some tea. This may take a while."
When they were seated and drinking from mugs that had survived the rampage, Mrs. Macready began. "I am a witch. I work for an organization that it something of a government for witches."
As she talked, Mrs. Macready noticed that the Professor had little difficulty accepting what she told him. She repeated much of what she had told Denis. She recounted the events of the previous day and why the appearance of wolves from another world was more important to the witching community than the wolves themselves.
The Professor seemed to be searching his memory for elusive thoughts. He was silent for some moments. "I will tell you how it all began. It started when I met a girl, Polly Plummer, in a summer long gone." He told the story of how he and Polly accidentally broke in on his Uncle Andrew who was experimenting with rings of green and gold. Uncle Andrew sent Polly off the face of the earth with a green ring and Digory had to follow with another green ring, taking gold rings with him to bring her back. It amused the Professor to learn that his uncle had never fashioned the rings himself. The Professor told how he and Polly found the dead world of Charn and summoned back to life the Queen of Charn. She came back with them to the earth and threatened to conquer it. He had to devise a way of taking her to another world. That was how they discovered the world known as Narnia. Prof. Kirke did not know how much of the story of Narnia was relevant to Mrs. Macready but he did tell her that it was foretold that the Queen would one day rule over Narnia as the White Witch.
"I think I know what those wolves want," Prof. Kirke said. "They are servants of the White Witch. They have been sent to this world knowing the name 'Digory Kirke' and this address. They seek the rings. I am sure of it." Seated in this modest, ordinary house in north London Mrs. Macready shivered as if she could feel a chill wind blowing from Narnia on her back.
"It's a puzzle to me," Mrs. Macready mused, "why the White Witch would want the rings. If she could send the wolves here she has found a way to force a passage between the worlds. Perhaps she has made rings of her own."
"Yes, of course, I see it now. In her long years of studying magic the White Witch learned how to make the rings and there was something from this world that would serve as the dust—she could have used a bit of the lamp post she took from outside in the street."
"Then why would she want your rings?"
"Perhaps she does not want the rings to use herself but rather to destroy them to prevent anyone of this world using them to reach Narnia." The Professor's thoughts drifted off. "It has been a long time since I have thought of Narnia. It has not entered my thoughts for many years. Polly sends me Christmas cards and photographs of her children. I see her from time to time but I think of her as an adult, not as my companion to Narnia." The Professor looked up with alarm. "You don't think she could be in danger, do you? The White Witch never paid much attention to her."
"Don't worry. I'll contact my office and they'll send someone to watch over her."
"I have never returned since I was a witness to the morning of its creation. Polly always told me that she had the sense it was an adventure open only to children. Now I am old and not fit for adventures. Yet I feel that I still have a role to play in this. Despite everything I feel a sense of excitement.
"Now, let us get to the yard. The rings must still be where I buried them!"
