Pol knocked loudly, for the third time, and waited impatiently outside the gatehouse. Was the keeper asleep or had he stepped out for a break? Perhaps he was accompanying Jareth and his friends on a tour around the grounds.

Smoke drifted upward from the chimney so he didn't think the gatehouse keeper would have gone far and left the fire unattended, but the door remained closed. He stepped up to one of the two windows and peered in, cupping his hands around his eyes to focus.

He could see a small table bearing a single pottery mug. A chair was drawn close and had a dark green uniform draped over it, but the room was empty of people.

Pol tested the door handle but it was locked. He moved sideways to the gate and found that locked as well. Cursing under his breath, Pol looked over his shoulder then climbed expertly up and over the top. He dropped down onto the other side, straightened his jacket and strode off up the drive to the Hall, as if he had every right to be there.

If no one was around to challenge him, he would take this opportunity to explore, far easier in daylight than at night. And best of all, no dog running loose.

He reached the steps to the front door without seeing a single soul. Even in broad daylight the Hall looked far from welcoming, too much dark stone, thought Pol. He looked around one more time to check he was unobserved, then took off around the left side of the building. There was a path of sorts, heavily overgrown by shrubs, but still navigable.

Once he got around the side, past the front façade, he found a couple of potentially useful drainpipes leading down from the roof, attached to the side of the building. He continued along the path to the back of the Hall hoping he would come across a servant's entrance but instead, discovered a sloping cellar door built into the ground. Presumably, it provided delivery access for goods to the basement. He checked, but although it was unlocked on the outside, it was barred on the inside.

Pol scanned his surroundings once more but saw no sign of anyone.

The lack of any ground staff or other servants was making him uneasy. Surely a place this size would require considerable help, both inside and out. Then he heard footsteps. Coming towards him along the path. Pol spun on his heel and hastened back the way he'd come.

He reached the front door, just in time. He had his hand on the bell rope when the door opened. A man dressed in dark green livery stepped out, his brow creased in a ferocious scowl.

"Who are you? How did you get in? Where is Hobbs?" He demanded, staring past Pol.

Pol looked down his nose and took a moment to adjust his sash before speaking. "I am a messenger from the Queen of Mancuria, my good man, and I came in the front gate. Who is Hobbs?"

The footman looked taken aback for a moment.

"Hobbs is the gatekeeper. He let you in? Without accompanying you? He is supposed to escort every visitor, all the way to the front door."

"I don't know anything about Hobbs, but the gatehouse was empty when I arrived. The main gate was unlocked, so I came in. I'm here to meet with Professor Maybury."

"The gatehouse was empty?" The servant sounded as if he didn't believe him.

"Not a soul in sight. Only a uniform, draped over a chair."

The scowl vanished, to be replaced by an expression of alarm. "Mason! Are you out there?" he bellowed, causing Pol to flinch and take a step back.

A heavyset man dressed in the same livery, appeared from the side of the house where Pol had been exploring. His steel grey hair was cut close to his scalp and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once. Pol swallowed, feeling glad he hadn't run into him earlier.

"Yes?"

"Go and check on Hobbs, would you? And make sure the damn gate is locked."

Mason nodded, then turned and strode quickly down the drive.

The footman turned to Pol, making a visible effort to regain his composure. "Come this way, sir. The Professor doesn't normally see anyone without an appointment, but you can join Mr Gifford and his friends."

~~

"Maybury's Miracle Elixir!" announced the Professor, proudly.

The man's a crank, was Jareth's first thought. So much for their mission. Gamer would be disappointed.

He could tell Ursula felt the same. Her expression had morphed from animated to wooden, a polite smile fixed to her lips.

Now, Jareth found himself doubting everything the Professor had claimed. Had he really discovered an Alchemists' Stone? Could they rely on anything the man had said?

He turned to Gifford and was startled to see the emotion shining in his eyes. Unlike Jareth and Ursula, he appeared excited by Maybury's claim.

"How does it work?" he asked. "How much longer will it give you?"

"Gold has medical properties of itself, Mr Gifford," the Professor answered, in lecturing tones. "Incorruptible, it has long been used in the treatment of age-related illness such as aching joints. That was my starting point. In addition to my secret formula, which was created as part of my research into the Alchemists' Stone, each bottle contains a tiny pinch of gold dust. Take a spoonful at bedtime each night until the bottle is finished and it will add maybe another ten years to your life!"

"Really? Ten years?" asked Gifford. The words sounded questioning but Jareth could tell he was simply seeking confirmation, only too eager to believe. Before the Professor could reply, they were interrupted.

"Excuse me, Professor. I have another visitor for you," announced Jenkins in a loud voice, coming up behind them.

Jareth had been aware of the elevator going up and down in the back ground, but paid it no attention until now. Another visitor? Who?

He turned around.

Pol Flynt stood there, wearing black trousers with an elegant grey jacket and a bright emerald green sash. He looked hot, thought Jareth. Pol bowed.

"Professor Maybury? Polonius Flynt. I have a royal request for you, from Queen Genevieve of Mancuria."