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“The thing is,” said Parrot, “what are we going to do?” “Well,” said H.H., “without the Herbal and the Book of Spells, I can’t do anything, as you know. But they’ve got the three Books of Government down in the dungeons of Cocka­trice Castle, so they say, and they’re well guarded, it seems. I don’t see how we’re going to get them out, and without them we can’t do anything.”

“Can’t you remember any of the spells?” said Parrot.

“No,” said H.H. “When one gets to my age, one’s memory is not so good. The annoying thing is that I remember distinctly that in the Great Book of Spells there is one special spell against Cockatrices, but I can’t remember what it is.”

“Well,” said Parrot, “perhaps it’ll come back to you.”

“No,” said H.H. miserably. “I’ve tried and tried to remem­ber, but I simply can’t.”

“Well,” said Parrot cheerfully, “don’t worry, we’ll think of something. Now, why don’t you run up one of your splendid moon-carrot meals?”

“Oh, shall I? What fun,” said H.H. “But first I’ll take Peter here to soothe Tabitha—she’d like a little feminine company.” “You mean Penelope,” said Parrot.

“That’s the one with the blond hair, isn’t it?” asked H.H.

“No, red hair,” said Parrot.

“Yes, yes, of course,” said H.H. “Well, come along, Penel­ope, my dear.”

“Go on,” said Parrot. “Tabitha’s harmless.”

In spite of Parrot’s encouragement, Penelope felt very uneasy as she followed H.H. through the crystal maze. “I put her in the East Wing,” panted H.H. “First, it’s fireproof, and secondly it’s soundproof.”

Penelope could see the reason for this as they approached the East Wing. The amount of noise that was being made by an in­consolable Dragon was incredible.

“Boo hoo! Boo hoo! Boo hoo!” Penelope heard a voice roaring. “Boo hoo hoo! Oh, most stupid and idiotic of Dragons that I am. Boo hoo! Oh, careless and unintelligent creature that I am. Boo hoo!”

H.H. ushered Penelope into a room furnished as a bedroom. Lying on a huge four-poster bed, wracked with sobs, lay the Dragon. She was much smaller than Penelope had imagined, about the size of a pony. She was a bright sealing wax pink, decorated along her neck and back with a frill of golden and green scales. She had huge china blue eyes which were awash with tears.

“Now, now, Tabitha,” said H.H. “I’ve brought someone to see you—a girl child called Penelope.”

“How do you do,” said Penelope.

“I don’t do, that’s my trouble. Boo hoo hoo!” roared the Dragon, tears running down her cheeks and turning to steam as they were heated by the flame from her nostrils. “I’m the undoingest Dragon you’d meet in a month of Tuesdays. Boo hoo hoo!”

“Perhaps,” suggested Penelope gently, “if you tell me about your troubles, it would help. You see, that’s what I and my cousins have come here for, to help.”

“That’s very kind of you,” gulped Tabitha, “but I’m alone and forlorn, and nobody can help me, and it’s all my fault—boo hoo hoo!—and nothing can—boo hoo—be—boo hoo—done—boo hoo—about it—boo er hoo!”

“Nevertheless,” said Penelope firmly, “you’d better tell me, just in case. At any rate, crying can’t help.”

Tabitha pulled out a great handkerchief from under the pil­low and blew her nose violently into it. It immediately caught fire. Penelope and H.H. had to stamp out the flames, much to H.H.’s annoyance. “If I’ve told her once about using fireproof handkerchiefs, I’ve told her a dozen times,” he said. “These flame-producing animals are so careless, you’ve no idea.”

“That’s right—boo hoo!—be rude to me now that my heart is broken—boo hoo! and now that I’m the last of the Dragons,” sobbed Tabitha. “Take it out on me when—boo hoo!—I’m weak and defenseless and the last of my kind.”

“Dear me,” said H.H. “I never seem to say the right things. Well, I’ll leave her with you. If you want anything, ring the bell. Five times for an emergency.” He scuttled off, and Penel­ope sat down rather gingerly on the bed beside Tabitha.

“Now, Tabitha,” she said in a kind but firm voice. “All this crying is only upsetting you and not solving your problems. If you just control yourself and tell me what it’s all about I’m sure we can help.”

“Well,” said Tabitha, taking deep and shuddering breaths, so that the flames flickered out of her nose like little rose petals. “Well, every so often, you see, all the Dragons vanish, except one, and he or she is the Keeper of the Eggs, which each Dragon lays before vanishing. I was chosen to be the Keeper of the Eggs, and I was so proud because it’s a great responsibility to feel you have the whole future of the Dragons in your care, in one basket.”

“It must be a great responsibility,” said Penelope gravely.

“Well, I was on my way up here with the eggs—they’re

always hatched out in the Crystal Caves—when I met the Cockatrices, to whom l never normally speak—they’re so common and unruly. But they told me that there’d been a change of plan and that they were to take the eggs to Cockatrice Castle for hatching, and I, foolish creature that I am, gave them the eggs; and then—boo hoo hoo!—they ran off with them, saying that they were not going to hatch them and that—boo hoo hoo hoo hoo!—that there’d be no more Dragons . . . WHA! boo hoo."

“Cruel beasts,” said Penelope angrily, as Tabitha started to sob violently again. “Never you mind. My cousins and I intend to go to Cockatrice Castle and recapture the Great Books of Government and your eggs.”

“You will? You are?” asked Tabitha. “How?”

“Well,” Penelope began, and then stopped. Out of the corner of her eye she’d seen something move in the shadow s by the big wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room. “Tell me,” she said, “is there anyone else here in the Crystal Caves with you?”

“Anyone else?” said the Dragon, puzzled. “No, only me and H.H. Why?”

Penelope said nothing, but she went to the bell and pressed it five times. Within a few seconds there was a pounding of feet, the doors burst open, and Peter and Simon and H.H. rushed in, with Parrot in their wake.

“What’s the matter?” cried H.H.

“Yes, what’s the trouble?” asked the two boys.

“Close the doors,” said Penelope.

They closed the doors and stood looking at her.

“Well?” said Simon.

“We have a spy in our midst,” said Penelope calmly. “And he’s hiding near the cupboard.”

Spies and Plans

“A spy, Penny?” asked Peter incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“What sort of a spy?” asked Simon.

“I don’t know, I just saw him move. Over there by the ward­robe,” said Penelope, pointing.

The two boys strode over to the shadows by the cupboard. “You’re quite right,” said Peter, and, bending down, he grabbed at something.

“ ’Ere, leggo!” said a hoarse voice. “Leggo, you’re ’urting.”

Peter strode back to the others, carrying by one leg a fat, warty green Toad wearing a cutaway coat and blond wig and holding a gray top hat in its hand. Peter put it on the ground where it crouched, gulping, and gazed at them nervously with its bulbous yellow eyes.

“There you are,” said Penelope triumphantly. “I told you there was a spy.”