rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第28部分

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　'Although　I　accept　that　mentally　you　are　a　fearsome　adversary；　surely　you　must　realize　that　the　game　is　up？　Cease　this　folly；　I　beg　you。'
　'Don't　scuff　the　spare　wheel　with　your　hobnails；'　said　Norman。
　Pooley　raised　his　hand　to　speak。　'If　I　might　make　a　suggestion；'　he　said；　'I　think　that　the　matter　could　be　easily　settled　with　a　little　practical　demonstration。'
　'Yes？'　said　Norman　doubtfully。
　'Well；　you　suggest　that　Omally　and　I　are　suffering　some　kind　of　mental　aberration　regarding　this　camel。'
　'You　are。'
　'And　we　say　that　your　Morris　Minor　is　only　notable　for　its　plete　and　utter　invisibility。'
　'Huh！'
　Pooley　drew　out　his　pocket　lighter　and　struck　fire。　'You　rev　up　your　Morris；'　he　said；　'and　I　shall　toast　the　feet　of　my　camel。'
　'No；　no！'　Norman　leapt　into　life。　'Not　toast　his　feet；　not　toast　the　feet　of　my　Simon。'
　'The　camel　has　it；'　said　Jim　Pooley。
　Norman　sank　to　his　knees　and　began　to　sob　piteously。　Omally　suggested　that　Jim　should　lower　the　garage　door　and　this　he　did。
　'e；　e；'　said　Omally　to　the　crumpled　shopkeeper；　'there　is　no　need　for　this　undignified　behaviour。　Clearly　we　have　intruded　upon　some　private　business。　We　have　no　wish　to　interfere；　we　are　men　of　discretion；　aren't　we；　Jim？'
　'Noted　for　it。'
　'Not　men　to　take　advantage　of　such　a　situation　are　we；　Jim？'
　'Certainly　not。'
　'Even　though　this　manifestation　is　clearly　of　such　singularity　that　any　newspaper　reporter　worthy　of　his　salt　would　pay　handsomely　for　an　exclusive。'
　'Say　no　more；'　moaned　Norman　between　sobs。　'Name　your　price。　I　am　a　poor　man　but　we　can　possibly　e　to　some　arrangement。　A　higher　credit　rating；　perhaps。'
　Omally　held　up　his　hand。　'Sir；'　he　said；　'are　you　suggesting　that　I　would　stoop　to　blackmail？　That　I　would　debase　the　quality　of　our　long…standing　friendship　with　vile　extortion？'
　'Such　I　believe　to　be　the　case；'　said　Norman　dismally。
　'Well　then；'　said　Omally；　rubbing　his　hands　together；　'let　us　get　down　to　business；　I　have　a　proposition　to　put　to　you。'
　
　18
　After　leaving　Norman's　garage　in　the　early　hours　of　the　morning；　Pooley　found　little　joy　in　the　forts　of　his　cosy　bed。　He　had　listened　with　awe　and　not　a　little　terror　to　the　amazing　revelations　which　Omally　had　skilfully　wrung　from　the　shopkeeper。　Although　Jim　had　plaintively　reiterated　that　the　Earth…balancing…pyramid　theory　which　Norman　had　overheard；　that　lunchtime　so　long　ago；　was　gleaned　from　the　pages　of　an　old　ic　book；　as　usual　nobody　had　listened　to　him。　What　small；　fitful　periods　of　sleep　he　had　managed　were　made　frightful　with　dreams　of　great　floating　camels；　materializing　pyramids　and　invading　spacemen。
　At　around　six　o'clock　Pooley　gave　the　whole　thing　up　as　a　bad　job；　dragged　on　an　overcoat；　thrust　a　trilby　hat　on　to　his　hirsute　head；　and　trudged　off　round　to　the　Professor's　house。
　The　old　man　sat　as　ever　at　his　desk；　studying　his　books；　and　no　doubt　preparing　himself　for　the　worst。　He　waved　Pooley　to　an　armchair　without　looking　up　and　said；　'I　hope　you　are　not　going　to　tell　me　that　during　the　few　short　hours　that　you　have　been　gone　you　have　solved　the　thing。'
　'Partially；'　said　Jim　without　enthusiasm。　'But　I　think　John　should　take　full…credit　this　time。'
　The　old　man　shook　his　head。　'Do　you　ever　feel　that　we　are　not　altogether　the　masters　of　our　own　destinies？'　he　asked。
　'No；'　said　Jim。　'Never。'
　'And　so；　what　do　you　have　to　tell　me？'
　'You　will　not　like　it。'
　'Do　I　ever？'
　Pooley　eyed　the　whisky　decanter　as　a　source　of　inspiration　but　his　stomach　made　an　unspeakable　sound。
　'Would　you　care　to　take　breakfast　with　me；　Jim？'　the　Professor　asked。　'I　generally　have　a　little　something　at　about　this　time。'
　'I　would　indeed；'　said　Jim。　'Truly　I　am　as　ravenous　as　Ganesha's　rat。'
　The　Professor　tinkled　a　small　Burmese　brass　bell；　and　within　a　few　seconds　there　came　a　knocking　at　the　study　door　which　announced　the　arrival　of　Professor　Slobe's　elderly　retainer　Gammon；　bearing　an　overlarge　butler's　tray　loaded　to　the　gun　whales　with　breakfast　for　two。
　It　was　Pooley's　turn　to　shake　his　head。　'How　could　he　possibly　know　that　I　was　here？'
　Professor　Slobe　smiled。　'You　ask　me　to　give　away　my　secrets？'　he　said；　somewhat　gaily。　'Where　would　I　be　if　you　deny　me　my　mystique？'
　'You　have　mystique　enough　for　twenty；'　said　Jim。
　'Then　I　will　share　this　one　with　you；　for　it　is　simplicity　itself。'　He　rang　the　small　bell　again　and　Gammon；　looking　up　from　the　coffee　he　was　pouring　into　the　fine　Dresden　china　cups；　said；　'Certainly；　sir；　two　lumps　it　is。'
　'It　is　a　code　with　the　bell…ringing；'　said　the　enlightened　Jim。
　The　Professor　nodded　his　old　head。　'You　have　found　me　out；'　said　he。　In　reality；　of　course；　Pooley　had　done　nothing　of　the　kind。
　Gammon　departed　at　a　mental　mand；　closing　the　door　behind　him。　Pooley　set　about　the　demolition　of　the　steaming　tray　load。　Between　great　chewings　and　swallowings；　he　did　his　best　to　relate　to　the　Professor　all　that　he　had　seen　and　heard　that　night。
　Professor　Slobe　picked　delicately　at　his　morning　repast　and　listened　to　it　all　with　the　greatest　interest。　When　Pooley　had　finished　his　long；　rambling；　and　not　a　little　confused　monologue；　he　rose　from　his　chair　and　took　out　a　Turkish　cigarette　from　the　polished　humidor。　Lighting　this　with　an　ember　from　the　grate；　he　waggled　the　thing　at　Pooley；　and　spoke　through　a　cloud　of　steely…blue　smoke。　'You　would　not　be　having　one　over　on　me　here；　would　you　Pooley？'　he　asked。
　'I　swear　not。'
　'Norman　has　a　camel　in　his　lock…up　garage　which　he　teleported　from　the　Nile　delta　and　which　openly　defies　the　law　of　gravity？'
　'Not　openly。　Norman　is　keeping　the　matter　very　much　to　himself。'
　'And　he　plans　to　alter　the　Earth's　axis　by　teleporting　the　Great　Pyramid　of　Cheops　into　Brentford　football　ground？'
　'That's　about　the　size　of　it。'
　Professor　Slobe　fingered　the　lobe　of　his　left　ear。　'We　live　in　interesting　times；'　he　said。
　Pooley　shrugged　and　pushed　a　remaining　portion　of　buttered　toast　into　his　mouth。
　'The　idea　does　have　a　certain　charm；　though；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'I　should　really　have　to　sit　down　and　work　it　out　with　a　slide　rule。　For　the　moment；　however；　I　feel　it　would　be　better　if　he　was　dissuaded　from　going　ahead　with　it。　I　think　we　should　nip　it　in　the　bud。'
　'I　think　John　and　I　can　fit　that　in　between　engagements；'　said　Pooley　sarcastically。　The　Professor　raised　an　eyebrow　towards　him；　and　he　fell　back　to　his　toast　chewing。
　'How　near　to　pletion　do　you　believe　his　project　to　be？'
　Pooley　shrugged　again。　'Days　away；　by　the　manner　in　which　he　spoke。　Omally；　using　his　usual　ingenuity；　suggested　that　he　might　avail　himself　of　any　serviceable　ponents　from　the　Captain　Laser　machine；　once　he　had　successfully　disabled　it。　That　idea　alone　was　enough　to　win　him　over　to　the　cause。　What　with　thinly…veiled　threats　of　exposure　and　the　assurance　that　his　action　would　not　only　save　mankind　as　we　know　it；　but　also　secure　him　readmission　to　the　Swan　in　time　for　the　darts　tournament；　he　was　putty　in　Omally's　grubby　mitt。'
　'It　would　certainly　be　nice　to　clear　all　this　up　before　darts　night；'　said　the　Professor　enthusiastically。　'I　have　booked　a　table　at　the　Swan；　I　would　not　care　to　miss　it　for　the　world。'
　'Let　us　pray　that　none　of　us　do；'　said　Pooley。　'Would　there　be　any　chance　of　a　little　more　toast？'　Professor　Slobe　reached　for　his　small　brass　bell。　'I　know　perfectly　well　that　it　is　not　how　you　do　it；'　said　Jim。
　'The　toast　is　on　the　way；'　said　Professor　Slobe；　smiling　broadly。
　Neville　limped　painfully　up　the　stairs　to　his　room；　bearing　with　him　the　special　mid…week　edition　of　the　Brentford　Mercury；　which　had　flopped　unexpectedly　through　the　Swan's　letter…box。　Propping　it　against　the　marmalade　pot；　he　lowered　himself　amid　much　tooth…grinding　on　to　the　gaily…coloured　bathing　ring；　which　rested　somewhat　incongruously　upon　his　dining　chair。
　As　he　sipped　at　his　coffee　he　perused　the　extraordinary　news　sheet。　BRENTFORD　HOLOCAUST！　screamed　the　six…inch　banner　headline　with　typically　restrained　conservatism。　'Many　arrests　in　Battle　of　Brentford；　rival　gangs　clash　in　open　street　warfare。'
　Neville　shook　his　head　in　wonder　at　it　all。　How　had　the　trouble　started？　It　was　all　a　little　hazy。　That　Pooley　and　Omally　were　involved；　he　was　certain。　He　would　bar　them　without　further　ado。
　He　groaned　dismally　and　clutched　at　his　tender　parts。
　He　surely　could　not　afford　to　bar　any　more　clients；　something　desperate　was　going　to　have　to　be　done　to　persuade　Norman　to　return　to　the　fold。　And　Old　Pete；　he　was　sure　he　had　barred　him；　but　he　was　equally　certain　that　the　old　reprobate　had　been　in　the　night　before。　Perhaps　he　hadn't。　He　would　bar　him　again　just　to　be　on　the　safe　side。
　He　perused　the　long　columns　of　journalistic　licence　which　covered　the　Mercury's　front　page。　It　had　been　some　kind　of　political　rally；　so　it　appeared；　the　Brownshirts　or　the　League　of　St　George。　Apparently　these　extremists　had　been　drawn　into　bat　with　the　martial　acolytes　of　the　Brentford　Temple　of　Dimac。　The　police　had　acted　bravely　and　justly；　although　greatly　outnumbered。　There　was　some　talk　of　decorations　at　the　Palace。
　Neville　skimmed　along　the　lines　of　print；　seeking　to　find　some　reference　to　the　original　cause　of　the　incident；　but　n