‘Invaders?’ said Peregrine excitedly. ‘That’s just the sort of thing I’m good at. I’ll nip back to the boat and get my lance and my battleaxe! That’s great! I haven’t had a good battle for ages. Not since that thing with old Crackpot. Let’s see. I’ll need some canons, a trebuchet or two -’
‘Great,’ said Griselda even more gloomily. ‘That would be great. The only thing is, you can’t.’
‘What do you mean, I can’t? That’s just what you’re supposed to do with invaders.’
‘Yes, the trouble is, Hildegard has invited them to move in.’
‘Ah,’ said Peregrine. ‘Yes, I see the problem. Well, in that case, they aren’t really invaders, they are guests and perhaps we should make friends with them. Hildegard obviously has. Who are they?’
‘Mice,’ said Griselda. ‘Professor Glooper’s mice. They’ve escaped. And come here.’
For the first time in a very long time, Peregrine raised the visor of his helmet and looked at Griselda in horror.
‘Professor Glooper’s mice have come here?’ he gasped.
‘But, but – that means….’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘But doesn’t she realise?’
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