Maureen left the room, head bowed, deep in concentration and missed the silent figure
standing at the edge of the entrance hall.  As soon as Waffle knew they were alone she turned to Heather and in her soft, Cork voice she said, “I think we may have a problem.”

“Problem,darling?  Why for” Heather sipped at her dry martini and tilted her head towards Waffle.  “You don’t mean.?”“That is exactly what I mean.” Waffle took her champagne glass in her dainty manicured
hand and sighed.  “I couldn’’t say no to him.  You understand?” She smiled ruefully.  “He knows too much.  Sometimes I feel as if he has me in his power.”  She shuddered and her red silk dress rippled across her perfect, slender body.
Whilst Heather understood Waffle’’s situation she was apprehensive at the thought that
Friar Tuck was in the Schloss.  It had been so long since she had had anything to do with that monk.  Would no one save her from this turbulent priest, she thought, wondering if she should make a note of that particular phrase, given its originality.
“We really don’’ t need Friar Tuck here, Waffle.  Is it possible that we could distract him with some sort of..”

Suddenly the lights dimmed and a screamechoed through the Schloss.  Waffle looked at Heather, her blue eyes brimming with tears.  “It is okay?” she gasped.
“Maureen understands?”

“Of course she understands.  It’’ll be fine” she said in an impatient tone.  “Frankly, I’’m
far more concerned about you bringing the priest with you.  He is not what he seems.” Heather turned around and called “Friar Tuck, I know you’’re here.  Show yourself to me.”

Slowly, the hooded figure moved towards the two women. As he came closer Heather held her hands to her face, the crimson nail varnish clashing violently with her ashen complexion.  Turning to Waffle she sobbed, “How can this be so?”

Another scream echoed through the Schloss.