Once again we were ushered into the study where the ancient mystic waited, enshrouded in gloom. We handed her the sprig of Yew but she seemed more anxious to test the mystic properties of our money and wouldn't even attempt to contact the restless dead without it.

In a surprisingly clear voice the old woman instructed us to join hands and focus on our objectives. Although some present were perhaps sceptical, notably Sergeant Jones, we all followed her instructions and then waited while she called on the spirit of Robert De Langton to come forth. We were also required to give forth a chant to build the spiritual energy necessary for Madame Arcana to push through the barrier between the worlds.

For a moment there was silence but then Hammer struck up "We wish you a Merry Christmas". The inappropriateness of it took me aback but, as no one else had thought of any other tune the world was gifted the incongruous sight of hardened agents of her Majesty's Government sitting in a circle, holding hands and singing a song of festive cheer amid the warm air of that strange Midsummer's night. As the energy in the room built to a peak I could feel a presence enter the room. Opening my eyes I gazed into the stygian blackness and could make out, faintly outlined in white, the spectral from of Robert De Langton, called by Madame Arcana from beyond the grave. The spectre's voice chilled me as he inquired why we had called him from his final restingplace.

For a few moments there was silence – even Jones and I, who had seen much that was unusual during our time in C23, were taken aback by the sound of this voice from beyond the wall of death itself. Finally I stirred myself and told the spirit that we sought his assistance, that we required knowledge from him of his past. Perhaps not surprisingly the long dead servant of the Temple was not inclined to accede to such an impertinent request from complete strangers. Hoping that this grim shadow still had some feeling for his own blood I spoke out, telling the Templar that we were trying to save a companion of ours and a relative of his from the grasp of the Fey, and their Princess, his dear Prudence.

The mention of his old paramour stirred the shade's cold heart to fury and he willingly told us the whereabouts of his third treasure, the jar of fine oils. Apparently it had been buried beneath the Queen's mound, one of the three such features mentioned by in the book Mortimer found at the library. We thanked the apparition for his assistance and watched him slowly fade away, disappearing from sight as he reached the corner of the room. With time pressing upon us we gave Madame Arcana her well-deserved payment and our thanks and departed.

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