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I was reading The Dragonslayer’s Manual over breakfast and had just got to the bit about using a banana to sharpen Exhorbitus when there was a sharp rap at the door. I opened it to reveal a small man dressed in a worn suit. He was flanked by two huge men whose knuckles almost touched the ground.

‘Yes?’

‘Miss Strange, Dragonslayer?’

‘Yes, yes?’

‘My name is Mr Hawker. I represent the Hawker & Sidderley debt collection agency.’

The alarm bells started ringing. I had expected King Snodd to make life difficult, but this was not what I had anticipated. Hawker handed me a sheath of papers, all headed with the Kingdom’s judicial seal and looking terribly formal. I was in no doubt that it was all official, very legal, and wholly dishonest.

‘What does it mean?’ I asked Hawker, who seemed to be enjoying himself.

‘This property has been given rent free by the Kingdom for almost three hundred years,’ he explained. ‘We have discovered that this was a clerical error.’

‘And you found out just this morning, I suppose?’

‘Indeed. Back rent, back electricity bills, gas bills, rates, you name it. Three hundred years’ worth.’

‘I’ve only been here two days.’

Hawker – and the King’s advisers, presumably – had already thought of that.

‘As Dragonslayer you are legally responsible for yourself and the previous members of your calling. The Kingdom has been generous for many years, but feels now that circumstances have changed.’

He looked at me with a smile.

‘You owe us 97,482 moolah, and forty-three pence.’

I patted my pockets, drew out some change and handed it to the debt collector, who wasn’t laughing.

‘Now how much do I owe you?’

‘I think you fail to appreciate the seriousness of the situation, Miss Strange. I have a warrant for your arrest if you do not pay the monies owed. Failure to pay will result in you being jailed for debt.’

He obviously meant it. I could only assume that the King thought a brief stay in jail would make me more compliant. But I wasn’t about to be arrested just like that. I asked Mr Hawker to wait and called Gordon to fetch the accounts. Brian Spalding had said we had funds available in the bank.

‘How long do I have to pay?’

The debt collector smiled and one of his heavies started cracking his knuckles.

‘We’re not totally devoid of a sense of fair play,’ replied Hawker with a gloat. ‘Ten minutes.’

‘Well?’ I said to Gordon, who had returned with the bank statements.

‘Not too good, ma’am,’ he said. ‘It seems we have a fraction under two hundred moolah.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Hawker. ‘Officers, arrest her.’

The policemen stepped forward but I raised a hand.

‘Wait!’

They stopped.

‘I thought you said I had ten minutes?’

Hawker gave a rare smile and checked his watch.

‘Think you can raise a hundred thousand in, let’s see . . . eight minutes?’

I thought quickly.

‘Well,’ I replied, ‘actually, I rather think I can.’