Suddenly Rossini heard a strange noise, a sort of wheezing, groaning, mechanical sound. It seemed to come from the furthest corner of the field. There, under the shade of a few trees, was parked the horsebox which held Madame Mariella's Prancing Ponies, three worn out old nags who could hardly manage a gallop let alone a prance. To his astonishment, Rossini saw that another horsebox was parked beside it - but this was a horsebox of a very different sort. Glossy and gleaming, brand-spanking new, the sort of horsebox to carry Derby winners to the racecourse - but what was it doing in his field? Why hadn't he seen it drive in?

Angrily, Rossini strode towards it. He peered suspiciously into the driver's cab: it was empty. Rossini marched round to the back and hammered on the rear doors, but as soon as his fist touched the door, he snatched it back in dismay - the horsebox tingled! He felt a hum of suppressed power, almost like an electric shock.

The rear door snapped open, and a man stood, looking at him. Rossini saw a man of medium height, dressed in neat, dark clothing. He had a rather sallow face, with a small pointed beard, heavy eyebrows and dark, burning eyes. With a sudden flash of superstitious fear, Rossini thought the stranger looked like the devil ...

Rossini took a grip of himself, no funny-looking foreigner was going to frighten him! He was Luigi Rossini, the boss. He scowled up at the man angrily: "Who the heck are you?" The stranger came down the horsebox steps. He spoke in a deep voice, full of authority:

"I am usually referred to as the Master..."