rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第10部分

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　Pooley　wandered　aimlessly　about　the　study；　marvelling　at　how　it　could　be　that　the　more　closely　he　scrutinized　the　many　books　the　more　blurry　and　indecipherable　their　titles　became。　They　were　indeed；　as　the　Professor　put　it；　'protected'。　At　length　he　rubbed　his　eyes；　shook　his　head　in　defeat；　and　sought　other　pursuits。
　Omally；　for　his　part；　finished　the　decanter　of　five…year…old　scotch　and　fell　into　what　can　accurately　be　described　as　a　drunken　stupor。
　At　very　great　length　the　mantelclock　struck　five。　With　opening　time　at　the　Swan　drawing　so　perilously　close；　Pooley　ventured　to　enquire　as　to　whether　the　Professor　was　near　to　a　solution。
　'Oh；　sorry；　Jim；'　said　the　old　man；　looking　up；　'I　had　quite　forgotten　you　were　here。'
　Pooley　curled　his　lip。　It　was　obvious　that　the　Professor　was　never　to　be　denied　his　bit　of　gamesmanship。　'You　have　deciphered　the　symbol　then？'
　'Why　yes；　of　course。　Perhaps　you　would　care　to　awaken　your　panion。'
　Pooley　poked　a　bespittled　finger　into　the　sleeper's　ear　and　Omally　awoke　with　a　start。
　'Now　then；'　said　Professor　Slobe；　closing　his　book　and　leaning　back　in　his　chair。　'Your　symbol　is　not　without　interest。　It　bines　two　runic　characters　and　an　enclosing　alchemic　symbol。　I　can　tell　you　what　it　says；　but　as　to　what　it　means；　I　confess　that　at　present　I　am　able　to　offer　little　in　the　way　of　exactitude。'
　'We　will　settle　for　what　it　says；　then；'　said　Jim。
　'All　right。'　Professor　Slobe　held　up　Omally's　sketch；　and　traced　the　lines　of　the　symbol　as　he　spoke。　'We　have　here　the　number　ten；　here　the　number　five　and　here　enclosing　all　the　alchemic　C。'
　'A　five；　a　ten　and　a　letter　C；'　said　Jim。　'I　do　not　get　it。'
　'Of　course　you　don't；　it　is　an　ideogram：　the　expression　of　an　idea；　if　I　might　be　allowed　to　interpret　loosely？'　The　two　men　nodded。　'It　says；　I　am　〃C〃　the　fifth　of　the　ten。'
　The　two　men　shook　their　heads。　'So　what　does　that　mean？'　asked　Omally。
　'Search　me；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'Was　there　anything　else？'　Pooley　and　Omally　stared　at　each　other　in　bewilderment。　This　was　quite　unlike　the　Professor　Slobe　they　knew。　No　questions　about　where　the　symbol　was　found；　no　long　and　inexplicable　monologues　upon　its　history　or　purpose；　in　fact　the　big　goodbye。
　'There　was　one　other　thing；'　said　the　rattled　Omally；　drawing　a　crumpled　cabbage　leaf　from　his　pocket。
　'If　it　is　not　too　much　trouble；　I　wonder　if　you　would　be　kind　enough　to　settle　a　small　dispute。　Would　you　enlighten　us　as　to　what　species　of　voracious　quadruped　could　have　wrought　this　destruction　upon　Small　Dave's　cabbage　patch？'
　'His　Pringlea　antiscorbutica？
　'Exactly。'　Omally　handed　the　Professor　the　ruined　leaf。
　Professor　Slobe　swivelled　in　his　chair　and　held　the　leaf　up　to　the　light；　examining　it　through　the　lens　of　a　horn…handled　magnifying　glass。　'Flattened　canines；　prominent　incisors；　indicative　of　the　herbivore；　by　the　size　and　shape　I　should　say　that　it　was　obvious。'　Swinging　back　suddenly　to　Omally　he　flung　him　the　leaf。　'I　have　no　idea　whatever　as　to　how　you　acplished　that　one；'　he　said。　'I　would　have　said　that　you　acquired　a　couple　of　jawbones　from　Gunnersbury　Park　Museum　but　for　the　saliva　stains　and　the　distinctive　cross…hatching　marks　of　mastication。'
　'So　you　know　what　it　was　then？'
　'Of　course；　it　is　Camelus　bactrianus；　the　mon　Egyptian　Camel。'
　There　was　something　very　very　odd　about　Camelus　bactrianus；　the　mon　Egyptian　Camel。　Norman　squatted　on　his　haunches　in　his　rented　garage　upon　the　Butts　Estate　and　stared　up　at　the　brute。　There　was　definitely　something　very　very　odd　about　it。　Certainly　it　was　a　camel　far　from　home　and　had　been　called　into　its　present　existence　by　means　which　were　totally　inexplicable；　even　to　the　best　educated　camel　this　side　of　the　Sahara；　but　this　did　not　explain　its　overwhelming　oddness。　Norman　dug　a　finger　into　his　nose　and　ruminated　upon　exactly　what　that　very　very　oddness　might　be。
　Very　shortly　it　struck　him　with　all　the　severity　of　a　well…aimed　half…brick。　When　he　had　been　leading　the　thing　away　to　his　secret　hideout；　it　had　occurred　to　him　at　the　time　just　how　easy　it　had　been　to　move。　And　he　recalled　that　although　he；　an　eight…stone　weakling　of　the　pre…Atlas…course　persuasion；　had　left　distinctive　tracks；　the　camel；　a　beasty　of　eminently　greater　bulk；　had　left　not　a　mark。
　And　now；　there　could　be　little　doubt　about　it；　the　camel's　feet　no　longer　reached　the　ground。　In　fact；　the　creature　was　floating　in　open　defiance　of　all　the　accepted　laws　of　gravity；　some　eighteen　inches　above　the　deck。
　'Now　that's　what　I　would　call　odd；'　said　Norman；　startling　the　hovering　ship　of　the　desert　and　causing　it　to　break　wind　loudly　…　a　thing　which；　in　itself；　might　be　tolerable　in　the　sandblown　reaches　of　the　Sahara；　but　which　was　no　laughing　matter　hi　an　eight…by…twelve　lock…up　garage。　'Ye　gods；'　mumbled　Norman；　covering　his　nose　with　a　soot…stained　pullover　sleeve。
　It　was　now　that　he　noticed　yet　another　untoward　feature　about　the　animal；　which；　had　it　been　the　property　of　the　now　legendary　P。T。　Barnum；　would　no　doubt　have　earned　that　great　showman　a　fortune　rivalling　that　of　Croesus　himself：　the　camel　had　the　appearance　of　being　not　quite　in　focus。　Although　Norman　screwed　up　his　eyes　and　viewed　it　from　a　variety　of　angles；　the　zero　gravity　quadruped　remained　a　mite　indistinct　and　somewhat　fuzzy　about　the　edges。
　Norman　took　out　an　unpaid　milk　bill　and　scrawled　a　couple　of　dubious　equations　upon　its　rear。　Weight　being　the　all…important　factor　of　his　experiment；　it　was　obvious　that　his　calculations　regarding　molecular　transfer　were　slightly　at　fault。　He　rose　from　his　unfortable　posture　and；　the　air　having　cleared　a　little；　picked　up　a　clump　of　wisely　mandeered　cabbage　leaves　and　offered　them　to　the　camel；　now　firmly　lodged　in　the　rafters。　The　thing；　however；　declined　this　savoury　morsel　and　set　up　a　plaintive　crying　which　sent　chills　up　the　back　of　the　scientific　shopkeeper。
　'Ssh。。。　ssh；　be　quiets；　damn　yous；'　whistled　Norman；　flapping　his　arms　and　searching　desperately　about　for　the　wherewithal　to　silence　the　moaning　creature。　Something　drastic　would　have　to　be　done；　of　that　there　was　no　doubt。　This　camel；　although　living　proof　of　his　experiment's　success；　was　also　damning　evidence　against　him；　and　its　disclosure　to　the　public　at　such　a　time；　when　he　stood　poised　on　the　very　threshold　of　a　major　breakthrough；　could　only　spell　doom　to　his　plans　in　dirty　big　red　letters。
　Norman　groaned　plurally。　That　must　not　be　allowed　to　happen。　He　had　had　run…ins　with　the　popular　press　before；　and　he　knew　full　well　the　dire　consequences。　Some　way　or　other　he　would　have　to　dispose　of　his　hovering　charge。　Perhaps　he　could　merely　await　nightfall　then　drag　it　outside　and　allow　it　to　float　away　upon　the　wind。　Norman　shuddered；　with　his　luck　the　camel　would　most　likely　rise　to　a　point　just　beyond　reach　and　hang　there　for　all　the　world　to　see。　Or　far　worse　than　that；　it　might　sweep　upwards　into　an　aircraft's　flight…path　and　cause　a　major　disaster。　These　thoughts　brought　no　consolation　to　the　worried　man。
　The　camel　was　still　bewailing　its　lot　in　excessively　loquacious　terms　and　Norman；　a　man　who　was　rapidly　learning　the　true　meaning　of　the　word　desperation；　tore　off　his　pullover　and；　having　dragged　the　moaning　beastie　momentarily　to　ground　level；　stuffed　the　patchworked　woolly　over　its　head。　A　blessed　silence　descended　upon　the　lockup；　and　Norman　breathed　a　twin　sigh　of　relief。　Perhaps；　he　mused；　with　its　obviously　unstable　molecular　structure　the　camel　might　simply　deteriorate　to　such　a　point　that　a　slight　draught　would　waft　it　away　into　nothingness。
　This　seemed　a　little　cruel；　as　the　camel　was　something　of　an　unwilling　victim　of　circumstance；　and　Norman　was　not　by　nature　a　cruel　or　callous　man。　But　considering　the　eventual　good　which　his　great　quest　would　bring　to　the　people　of　Brentford；　the　shopkeeper　considered　the　sacrifice　to　be　a　small　and　necessary　one。
　It　will　thank　me　for　it　in　the　end；　he　told　himself。　To　die　in　so　noble　a　cause。　I　shall　see　to　it　that　a　memorial　is　built；　the　tomb　of　the　unknown　camel。　We　might　even　organize　some　kind　of　yearly　festival　in　its　honour。　Camel　Day；　perhaps？　Hold　it　on　Plough　Monday；　incorporate　a　few　morris　dancers　in　Egyptian　garb　and　a　maypole　or　two；　make　a　day　of　it。　Yes；　the　camel　had　played　its　part　and　it　would　not　go　unrewarded。
　Anyway；　thought　Norman；　if　it　doesn't　simply　evaporate　I　can　always　speed　the　process　up　with　a　decent…sized　weedkiller　bomb。
　
　9
　Pooley　and　Omally　sat　at　a　secluded　corner…table　in　the　Flying　Swan。
　'I　can't　understand　the　Professor；'　said　Jim。　'Didn't　seem　to　be　himself　at　all。'
　Omally　shook　his　head；　'I　don't　know；'　he　replied。　'Appeared　to　me　a　clear　case　of　keep…the…golfers…guessing。　I　suspect　that　he　knows　a　good　deal　more　than　he　was　letting　on　to。'
　'Not　much　ever　gets　by　him。　He　certainly　made　short　work　of　the　cabbage　leaf。'
　Omally　leant　back　in　his　seat　and　cast　his　arms　wide。　'But　where　are　we？'　he　asked。　'Nowhere　at　all！　We　have　council　men　doing　the　impossible　at　their　every　opportunity；　we　have　runic　ideograms　appearing　magically　upon　the　ground　and　camels　working　their　way　through　the　season's　produce。　I　don't　like　any　of　it；　it　smacks　to　me　of　some　great　conspiracy