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reason than to liven things up a bit. “And then there’s the housekeeper, Hestia. She lives here too. She’s got rooms on the second floor, though she’s usually poking about in the kitchen. She’s the cook too.” He rolled his eyes at Robin. “You haven’t met her yet, lucky you. She’s an absolute battleaxe.”
    “Really?” Robin asked.
    “Whatever you do, don’t make the mistake I made and call her Esther.” Henry held up a finger in warning. “It’s Hestia ‘with a haitch’. She’s a bit of a snob. Calls me Master Drover.” He made a face. “Hate that.”
    “She sounds like a barrel of laughs,” Robin said doubtfully.
    “She’s very house-proud,” Henry explained. “Likes everything and everyone in its place. You can’t miss her. Face like a spade.”
    They had reached the end of this particular corridor. A red wooden door blocked their way. Henry grabbed the handle and went to walk through, carrying on his charming tirade. The door didn’t budge and he stumbled straight into it.
    “It’s locked,” Robin said, trying not to laugh.
    Henry frowned. “Huh … that’s weird,” he said.
    “What?”
    “That it’s locked. The doors are never locked. Trust me, I get about. Idle hands and all that.” He frowned at the large black iron keyhole. It peered innocently back at him. “In fact,” the boy continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen this door before.” He looked back down the corridor.
    “Third floor, bathroom corridor,” he muttered to himself. He looked at the row of closed doors which punctuated the corridor behind them. “There’s the spare bedroom with the blue wallpaper and the rug that smells like dogs. There’s the music room with the windows painted shut. Round the corner’s the study with the planesphere and the hatboxes…”
    Robin looked from the boy to the red door.
    “This door’s never been here before, I’m sure,” Henry said.
    “It must have,” replied Robin. “Doors don’t just appear. You must have missed it.”
    The door looked very old. It had a bit of carving on it, but it had faded away over time. The round doorknob had a small letter ‘J’ and some curly leaves carved into it.
    Henry looked at him sarcastically. “Listen, mate, I’ve crawled all over this house since I was born. Thirteen years of exploring.” He shook his head.
    He dropped down and put his eye to the keyhole.
    “See anything?” Robin asked.
    Henry shook his head. “It’s all dark,” he said. “Maybe the old bird used to have something in front of it. A grandfather clock or a painting, something like that.”
    “Why don’t we go ask her?” he suggested.
    Henry stood up. “Nah. I’ve got a better idea. We’ll get the keys off Hestia. She must have keys for every room.”
    “I thought you said no other rooms had locks?” Robin argued.
    “Well … she must have one for this at least.”
    “You reckon she’d let us have it?” he asked. “The key, I mean?”
    Henry laughed. “Hestia? No way. Are you kidding? Not a chance. She won’t give me the time o’ day, never mind lending me her keys.”
    “But you just said…”
    “I said we’ll get the keys,” Henry grinned. “I didn’t say we’d ask.”

 
    Chapter Four – Woad at the Fountain
     
    The plan to get the housekeeper’s keys would have to wait until morning, as they discovered that the formidable Hestia was away in town for the day.
    The back-up plan of football also had to be rethought due to a sudden change in weather. The rain came out of nowhere, gusting in great sheets and turning the blue sky to slate.
    Robin, though, was not about to be put off by a bit of wet. He’d been dying to get out into the gardens all morning. He looked at the forest beyond the lawns, lost in a rainy mist. Between, there was a small fountain down there in a neat herb-garden.
    “What’s that statue?” he asked.
    Henry appeared at his side, looking with a bored half-hearted expression. “It’s one