“I’ve been converted,” said Jack. “I’ve seen the light.”

“Just like that? There could be all manner of other explanations. You shouldn’t go jumping to conclusions.”

“The bright light. The missing time. The erased memories. The …” Jack indicated the area of his anatomy that rested gingerly upon the cushions. “It all fits together. There’s no point in denying it.”

“All right,” said Eddie. “All right. Something happened to us. Something worrying.”

“We were taken up into the light.”

“Stop saying that or I’ll bite you somewhere that will take your mind off your sore bottom. Although not by many inches.”

Jack crossed his legs, said, “Ouch,” and uncrossed them again.

“Something happened to us,” Eddie continued. “I don’t know what and you don’t know what, either. Somehow we will have to find out what. It all has to be part of the case. A big part. Think hard, Jack. Do you remember anything at all?”

“Leaving Tinto’s,” said Jack. “Driving. Then a really bright light, then waking up in the car, which was nearly going over a cliff and into a river.”

“And nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie dusted at his trenchcoat; its hem was sodden in the water bowl. “We went somewhere after we left Tinto’s. Hold out your hands, Jack.”

Jack gave a doubtful look. “Why?” he asked. “You’re not going to bite me, are you?”

“I just want to look at your hands. Stick ’em out.”

Jack stuck ’em out.

Eddie examined Jack’s hands. “Interesting,” he said. “Turn them over.”

Jack turned them over.

“Very interesting,” said Eddie. “Now stand up, turn slowly around and show me the soles of your shoes.”

“Are you having a laugh, Eddie?”

“Please just humour me.”

Jack rose carefully, pushed back the chair carefully, did a slow twirl, with equal care, then lifted one foot and then the other towards Eddie. With insufficient care, Jack fell down in a heap.

“Always the comedy sidekick,” said Eddie. “What would I do without you?”

“I’m not a comedy sidekick,” said Jack, rising very carefully and lowering himself with considerable care back onto the cushions.

“Well, you had an interesting night out,” said Eddie, “by the evidence upon your person.”

“Did I?” said Jack. “Go on.”

“You took a walk in the countryside,” said Eddie, “through gorse and briar, then along a yellow-bricked road. You lit a candle from a tinderbox and you handled several antique weapons.”

“I did all that? How can you tell?”

“I could leave you in awe of my special senses,” said Eddie, splashing water at Jack, “but the evidence is all over you, on your coat, the soles of your shoes, your fingers and fingernails. And lean over here a little.”

Jack did so and Eddie sniffed at him.

“What?” said Jack.

“You need a shower,” said Eddie. “Your personal hygiene is a disgrace. Typical of teenage boys, that is.”

“Thanks a lot,” said Jack.

“Only kidding. There’s a smell about you, Jack.” Eddie sniffed at himself. “And about me also. A different smell. One I’ve never smelled before.”

“The smell of space aliens?” Jack took to sniffing himself.

“Very probably so. We have to find out what happened to us.”

“I could hypnotise you,” said Jack. “Hypnotic regression, it’s called. Take you back to the moment when we saw the bright light. That’s how it’s done.”

“Jack,” said Eddie, “do you really know how to hypnotise someone?”

“I do in theory.”

“But you’ve never actually done it.”

“I’ve never had sex with a chicken, but I know how to do it, in theory.”

Eddie looked very hard at Jack.

“Sorry,” said Jack. “I don’t know why I said that. But you know what I mean.”

“I certainly do not.”

“No. But you know what I mean.”

“Forget it,” said Eddie. “Teddies cannot be hypnotised.”

“You don’t know that. Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it, I always say.”

“And thus the chickens walk in fear.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. But teddies cannot be hypnotised. I tried it once and it didn’t work on me.”

Jack looked hard at Eddie. “Why did you try?” he asked.

“I had this theory,” said Eddie, “that if hypnotists can hypnotise folk into doing anything they want them to do –”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” said Jack.

“It is around here,” said Eddie. “Believe me. Well, my theory was simple: I’d get the hypnotist to hypnotise me into being Toy City’s greatest hypnotist, then I’d be able to place anyone I wanted under my control.”

“That’s outrageous,” said Jack.

“Naturally, I would only have used my powers for good.”

“Well, naturally.” Jack now made a very doubtful face.

“But it didn’t work,” said Eddie. “The hypnotist said that he’d really tried his hardest. I had to go for ten sessions. It was very expensive.”

“Hm,” went Jack. “Did it ever cross your mind –”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing,” said Jack. “So teddies can’t be hypnotised. But I’ll bet I could be. Shall we visit this hypnotist and see if he can do it?”

“Ah,” said Eddie. “I don’t think he’s practising any more.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Why not?”

“Well, he gave up when he got out of hospital.”

“Why was he in hospital?” Jack asked.

“He took a rather severe biting,” said Eddie.

“Right,” said Jack, and he recrossed his legs and kept them recrossed, though it hurt. “So,” said Jack, “hypnotists are not a happening thing, then.”

“Oh, they are,” said Eddie. “Though not that one. I know another one. I think we’ll pay him a visit.”

“Right,” said Jack once more. “There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“First I think I’ll take a shower and then we’ll take some breakfast.”

They took their breakfast at Nadine’s Diner. They travelled there in Bill’s car, via the nearest pawnbrokers, where they pawned Bill’s water cooler. Well, money was short, and they were on an important case. And they were very hungry indeed.

And on the way into the diner, Jack purchased the morning’s edition of the Toy City Mercury.

They took a table by the window, ordered a Big Boy’s Blow-Out Breakfast a-piece, with double hash browns, muffins, dumplings, pancakes, cheesecakes, fishcakes, fairy cakes and Fanny Lapalulu’s Fudgecake Surprise. Jack spread the paper before him and perused the front page news. “DOLLY DUMPLING DEAD” ran the headline, which told it as it was. And beneath it ran text that didn’t.

“Freak accident?” said Jack. “Struck by lightning?”

“Well, what did you expect?” Eddie asked.

“The truth,” said Jack.

“In a newspaper?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, not all of the truth, perhaps.”

“And what is the truth? No one saw anything except a really bright light. It could have been lightning.”

“It wasn’t lightning, you know that.”

“I know that, you know that. Oh, damn, he knows that, too.”

“He?” Jack looked up. “Oh dear,” he said.

Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis smiled his perished smile upon them. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “Might I sit down and join you?”

“Oh yes, please do,” said Eddie. “How wonderful to see you again so soon.”

“I thought I might find you here, filling your faces.” Wellington Bellis took a seat. “You’ve seen the paper, I see.”

“For what it’s worth.” Jack tossed the thing aside.

“It’s worth a great deal,” said Bellis. “We don’t want panic in the streets, now do we? We want to get this thing tied up all neat and nice, as quickly as possible, don’t we?”

“Of course we do,” said Eddie. “Jack and I were just planning our next move when you arrived. Such a pity you’ve derailed our train of thought.”

“Such a pity,” said Bellis, and he reached out and squeezed Eddie’s left paw.

“That hurts rather,” said Eddie. “Would you mind not doing that?”