“Believe me, Mr Pipcastle, from where I’m standing, that is but a gentle awakening…”
“Please, call me Earnest,” the chap added. “Only that bunch in the cottages yonder call me Mr Pipcastle and most of the time it’s not even with the ‘Mr’.”
“Fontarius then if we’re on that road,” Fontarius answered, wiping another set of beads from his brow. “I’ve heard of a Pipcastle — or rather a city with the same name — a good way across the ocean.”
“Well, I hope it’s not getting this afternoon heat,” Earnest replied. “It was so hot in the living room that I came out here for some ‘air’. I might go into the Darn if this carries on.”
“It might recede as unexpectedly as it turned up,” said Fontarius. “At least I would like to hope that it does somewhere between here and Darnskett.”
Earnest returned his hat to its residence upon his head. “Are you… on a case…?” he whispered.
“Not this side of tea,” said Fontarius. “But don’t tell me; you’ve got one that I might be interested in.”
“Oh, I’m sure Mrs Pipcastle and the Cottage Circle have one or two instances for you to look at. Mine was more over your interest in the uncommon…”
Fontarius had to stop himself from sighing. If he wasn’t being tested then he was being measured for what he knew about animals that were all around them if they would just look. “Go on…”
Earnest pointed towards a shape the colour of slate high up in the sky. “That bird. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Nor I,” Fontarius almost yawned, then stared, “Although it does look a little like a kite.”
“I can’t see any string.”
“Well it’s not a ‘buzzard’,” Fontarius continued. “The forked tail gives it away. And hawks are usually ‘passing through’ in this type of country. I have heard of Black Kites away south who turn up for the summer, but the ones in this