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She grimaced. “It’s unconventional, I know. But he chose it for himself, and I wouldn’t dream of hurting his feelings by asking him to change it.”

Before he could reply, a screech came from upstairs, approximating a seagull with a digestive complaint. The sound was instantly followed by thundering footsteps and a series of thuds, as if objects were being thrown at the wall.

“I’ve got it!” came Belinda’s distant voice. “Norman, head him off!”

“Rats,” Reina said, all her skin prickling with embarrassment.

“Ma’am?”

“Rattus norvegicus,” she explained. “The brown ones. We have a problem with them on the upper floors. This house sat unoccupied for a long time before I bought it six months ago.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

“At a bargain price,” she couldn’t resist adding.

“I would expect so, ma’am.”

“Pembroke,” she asked, “is it really necessary to keep saying ‘ma’am’? Because I’ve only known you for a matter of minutes, and it’s already become annoying.”

His only response was an oblique glance.

“Bother,” Reina muttered, realizing the answer was yes.

Belinda’s snarling young voice was much closer now. “Norman, you cowardly lump!”

Reina hurried into the central hall with Pembroke at her heels. She saw Belinda standing at the top of the grand staircase, scowling at Norman, who descended at a breakneck pace.

“I can’t catch or kill rats,” Norman announced. “The last time I tried, one of them almost ran up my leg. What if I’d been rat-bit? A wound from those nasty teeth—why, my leg would rot and fall off.”

“I understand your concern,” Reina soothed, “but I’m sure you understand why Belinda would appreciate your help in these situations.”

“She doesn’t need help,” Norman said. “She’s a vicious little beast.”

“And you’re a twatdingle!” Belinda said indignantly, leaping down the stairs two at a time. One of her hands was clutched around the top of a knotted rag containing a rat-sized bulge.

Norman hurried to the ground floor and retreated behind Reina. “Keep her away from me!”

“Belinda,” Reina said. “Please don’t use that word. It’s vulgar.”

“June says it,” the girl protested hotly. “All the time.”

“I’ll speak to June.” Reina resolved to make it clear to her friend that a good example must be set for an impressionable and potentially homicidal fifteen-year-old girl. “In the meantime, let’s try to be patient when it comes to other people’s fears. Everyone’s afraid of something, Belinda.”

The girl was distracted by the sight of Pembroke, who observed the proceedings with cool detachment. “Who’s that?”

“This is—” Reina began, but was interrupted as the front door burst open without a preliminary knock.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Pembroke instantly move to stand between her and the intruder.

Before she could ponder his curious reaction, she was diverted by the sight of Mad Dog coming into the entrance hall, accompanied by a little reddish-brown dog. The pup, who had an elongated body and short legs, darted around the entrance hall to investigate his new surroundings.

“Mad Dog,” Reina said in bewilderment, “I thought you’d gone out to engage the services of a ratcatcher.”

“I did,” he said. “Just met with Whistlin’ Will. He said from the sound of it, we got ourselves a rat infrustration.”

“Infestation?” Reina corrected gently.

“Whistlin’ Will said you could pay him by the job,” Mad Dog reported, “or he’d come to the house weekly, but that won’t rid us of the infrus—infestation. Rats is too good at breedin’. According to Will, if you put two rats in a house this size, before the year’s out, you’d have twelve hundred, give or take. What we need is a full-time ratter. So Will said to borrow a dog for as long as we need ’im. This ’ere is Alan.”