Leavitt Stafford and the Awful, Terrible, Not Very Nice Plan.

Chapter the Twenty-Seventh: Hiding Matters

Upon the door of the Moss residence was a resounding knock. Of course, considering how Magnolia and Montague were all bloodied and askew, and how Winnie was now lacking her left hand, none of those who stood about in the kitchen could answer the door... or at least that was the case until the rest of the children at last gathered the courage to begin their journey downstairs.

"Would one of you be so kind as to sneak behind the house and tell Mrs. Masefield that we fought a thief?" enquired Magnolia, breathless from the recent events.

"What happened?" demanded Hazel. "Why is there so much blood? Why does Winnie no longer have a hand?"

"Excellent question," contributed Polly.

Montague opened his mouth to explain the recent events in absurd detail, though Magnolia covered it. "It's rather difficult to explain, though it is of utmost importance that you please, please be so kind as to tell her about the thief!"

"What is happening? Why are you covering Mr. Montague's mouth? Could you..." Hazel narrowed her eyes, "...have committed a murder?"

Magnolia sighed, and she realised that she had lost the battle against Montague's absurdity. She uncovered his mouth.

"Please do not cover my mouth," Montague told her. "The infant which I attempted to remove from the household, and which Magnolia incorrectly informed you had been kidnapped, returned, and it attempted to murder Magnolia, Winnie and I. As a result, I have killed the infant. There is a great deal of blood as a result of this, and as a result of Winnie's absent hand."

"That is just as foolish as the infant being possessed," Hazel insisted.

"But the infant was possessed!" Magnolia cried. "Now please, please could you be a dear and tell Mrs. Masefield that we were burgled?"

If Magnolia agreed with such nonsense, then something shocking really must be afoot. Hazel crept along the hallway, taking utmost care not to allow the floorboards to creak, and she slipped her shoes on. Afterwards, she returned to the kitchen, and her eyes lingered on Montague. He stared back at her, his countenance unreadable.

Hazel made her way out of the kitchen through the door beside the house.

"That is not behind the house," Montague informed her.

"That is not what I meant, Montague!"

"Then why could you not state what you meant?"

"I did!"

"You did not. You told Hazel to exit behind the house, not beside it."

Hazel sighed and made her way towards the front garden. As expected, Mrs. Masefield stood before the door, an expression of dramatic fear upon her long countenance.

"Is everything quite alright?" demanded Mrs. Masefield. "I heard a great deal of shouting!"

"There was a thief," Hazel told her, "but it's quite alright, for we have chased him away. Do not worry, for I shall be informing the police on my way to school!" Within her breast, her heart began to race; could Montague's fears of murder also be correct? No, of course they could not.

The thought of his intuition being correct was too frightful to be correct.

Hazel was safe.

"Oh! Well, I hope he is caught soon! I must apologise for causing you bother!" Mrs. Masefield told her in solicitous tones. "It must be terribly frightening,"

"Oh, it is no issue," Hazel said firmly, conveying that she hadn't the faintest interest in Mrs. Masefield's chattering.

Hazel tried her very best to ignore the dreadful feeling blooming within.