Mr Ian Corby rematerialised, not more than a quarter of an hour following, perched upon another chimney pot. It so happens that the reader has already entered into acquaintance with the edifice whereof the article in question formed the summit, this being none other than … er … Squattocrat Towers, the town residence of Lord and Lady Snatch and their disappointing tiger St Just. Mr Ian Corby to his modest disappointment did not on this occasion discover any pewlies’ eggs or other gourmandise. Withal, being a sanguine sort of a corvid, and not given to dwelling overlong on the culinary solecisms which the spinners and snippers of thread chose to inflict upon him, he straightways leapt down into the chimney pot and just as expeditiously vanished. —
Squattocrat Towers, pewlies’ eggs, Ian Corby, Corvid, St Just, Lady Kelly Snatch
There was in truth about Mr Ian Corby something of the daredevil, for neither had he ever previously visited this decidedly unancestral seat of Milord Snatch, nor had he been advised that his chosen method of ingress was the appropriate one - withal, for any issue in which the forenamed aristocrat was implicated, there certainly was scope for considering whether one might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Howsoever, after another of the brief commotions that have come to characterise these episodes, Mr Ian Corby landed with a thud upon a dirty fireplace, and in his usual manner sent soot flying about himself. Struggling to his feet, he advanced into the centre of the room, which was very dark and very, very dirty. The beady black eyes of Mr Ian Corby apprised themselves of the presence of an overturned bath, and a toilet which for reasons inexplicable had planks nailed across the bowl. These two items had evidently at some point become detached from their moorings, for the room in which they now resided bore every appearance of having been originally dedicated to the reception of guests. The claws of Ian Corby now crunched across carpet, this strewn with shattered glass and papery shreds of pederastic art. There being in one wall a doorway, through this Mr Ian Corby betook himself, and found now a landing, also very dark, and over bannisters a stairwell, in which further carpeting, bought cheap and subsequently further worn, vanished downwards into further gloom. —
Lord Snatch
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