You let Fat Cat get his daily exercise and turn around, making your way back towards the house. As you open the heavy door and begin to remove your now-even-muddier boots, you notice that a purring Mugsy has already found the milk. Great, you think, now I'll have to clean up the floor, Fat Cat, and whatever Mugsy's lactose-intolerant belly can't digest. I knew I should have been more responsible.
As you reach for the threadbare dishtowel, Mugsy's tufted ears twitch and turn in the direction of the hills as if she's heard something. Poor cat, her ears still think they work. As you reach down towards the floor, her ears twitch again and Mugsy's furry body slinks around the corner towards the hallway, out of sight.
You quickly dab the remaining milk off the floor from underneath the table, barely noticing the dull glint of an old skeleton key wrapped in a fine layer of lint.

What do you want to do?
A. Set the key on the counter and go look for Fat Cat. Go to Page 8.
B. Forget about Fat Cat and go look for the key's lock. Go to Page 7.