I stopped by the post office this morning to send off my yearly subscription to The Ley Hunter* when I bumped into Mr. Burke-Brothwell and he had a curious tale to tell.

Last night he decided to partake of his usual evening perambulations around the heath (to aid the digestion of his dinner) during which he often indulges his passions for the collection and consumption of fungi and watching the hares that live in Nine Acre Field as they relax and play in the cool of the evening. It was getting dark he turned off the heath path and into the lane (he had spent some time excitedly excavating what he thought was a small summer truffle but turned out to be an oak gall from last year, albeit an uncommonly large one) and the overhanging trees made the way ahead darker and the air thicker. He was stopped in his tracks by what looked like two mall red lanterns glowing in the distance. As he approached (thinking they might be the lights of Mrs. Carr-Gomm's daughter-in-law Sissey's cottage) he became aware of a low menacing rumble, somewhere between a growl and a bark. Suddenly he was aware the lights were rushing towards him, surrounded by a black, amorphous shape that seemed almost to take form as it moved. Within a second it was upon him and he raised his cane to fend of the inevitable attack; the growl was by now a snarl, earthy and deep and full of malice.

Much to his shock, the attack never came; he was aware of a warm rush of air and the unmistakeable odour of wet fur and damp earth then . . . nothing. He lowered his cane and turned around, and ten yards beyond where he stood he saw, silhouetted against the last patch of dark blue sky visible at the heath end of the lane the unmistakeable outline of a large black dog with glowing eyes. The abomination paused for a second and then turned and headed into the trees and across the field, disappearing with a chilling howl into the woods on the far side.

Suffice to say Mr. Burke-Brothwell hurried straight home and locked the door after him, only then calling the station to let Constable Lynch know a large, dangerous animal was on the loose. Mr. Burke-Brothwell returned to the spot in the lane where he saw the animal (apparition?) this morning but could find no trace nor spoor of any creature with the exception of himself; his own footprints were clearly visible.

Mr. Burke-Brothwell thought he might curtail his evening outings for a while and stay in and watch back episodes of Arrested Development instead to "cheer myself up as I've been feeling a bit low recently".