It was a dark and stormy night. The three members of Math Iz Us huddled in their sleeping bags and listened to the cold rain lashing against the outside of their tent. When Heather had first suggested it, the idea of using their very generous fee from the Government of Mediocria to finance a vacation spent cycling across Britain had appealed to them all. But the soggy British weather was not cooperating, and now they found themselves marooned in a tent on the grounds of a large old country estate. When they had arrived bedraggled at the door of the mansion, the elderly manservant who answered had taken pity on them—not enough pity to invite them in to warm dry beds, but enough to allow them to pitch their tent on the lawn a short distance from the building. “Lord Boddy is having some guests here this weekend,” he quavered, “and there isn't any room, you know. Professor Prune and Colonel Catsup have the Regency bedrooms on the second floor, and Miss Carmine is occupying the vice-regal suite. There just isn't any room.” The students accepted their fate stoically, and lay with their eyes open listening to the patter of the rain.

After an hour or so Sasha was roused from a light sleep by the sound of a heavy old door creaking on its hinges and then slamming shut. This was followed by the sound of jocular male voices and strange dull thuds. The rain had tapered off to a light drizzle, and Sasha could not contain his curiosity. Glancing at his watch, which read 10 pm, he unzipped the door of the tent and looked out. Two men were engaged in a game of croquet. They seemed to be in high spirits, even though the rain soon began to come down harder. For a full hour they played, joked, and smoked enormous cigars, oblivious to the foul weather.