Ossian's Ride by Fred Hoyle

find myself rallying staunchly to the defense of I.C.E. but I had yet to see anything of this organization that offended my sense of morality—such as it is.
    The time came when I could decently suggest retiring for the night. I had no particular wish to renew the unpromising acquaintance of the gorilla, but this had to be done sooner or later. It was a relief that my clerical friend had not forgotten his promise to speak a word of caution to “Tiny.” He came across to the loft with me, took the gorilla aside for a few moments while I made up my bed and then remarked, “I think that all will now be well, Mr. Sherwood. What time would you care to breakfast in the morning?”
    “Would seven-thirty be too early?”
    “By no means. What is the time now, I wonder?” He pulled out a watch attached to a chain. It was of the kind that one must snap open before the dial can be seen.
    “Ah, nine-thirty. Early to bed, eh, Mr. Sherwood?”
    I was hard put to it to make any suitable reply, for on the inner cover of the watch I caught a glimpse of a most disturbing design. Stamped in the metal was the imprint of a crown.
    I knew now the meaning, or at any rate a part of the meaning, of the words of the dying Michael—the cannon with the crown. I had had the word “cannon” all wrong. It should of course have been “The canon with the crown.”
    My strong impulse, once the canon had gone, was to pack my things and to be away with all haste. Whether I had betrayed my surprise at the sight of the watch I cannot say—I may well have done so. At all events I couldn’t avoid the suspicion that the gorilla had been detailed to watch me closely. He stood by the door, a cigarette on his lips, smiling his lazy smile. Regretfully I decided it would be wiser to stay than to try to go.
    I lay in bed thinking distasteful thoughts and keeping a wary eye on the gorilla. My after-dinner conversation with the canon just didn’t ring true. All those phrases, “mammon of unrighteousness,” “earthly mansions,” are the sort of thing a cleric will say from the pulpit, but not any more in ordinary social talk. The man was an impostor, grossly so.
    The night was at best unpleasant and at worst terrifying. Eventually the gorilla decided to turn in—his bed came between mine and the door, I noticed. The light went out. I lay listening to his breathing, to make sure that he didn’t get out of bed. Nothing happened for maybe an hour. Then very stealthily he did get out. I heard him prowling almost silently about the room, and I had the horrible certainty that he was going to seize me again. It needs not the slightest imagination to realize the impelling desire I had to reach the door or the lights at least, but I knew as if by divine revelation that the one thing I must never do in front of this creature was to show fear. He came quite close, and then of a sudden let out in the dark his ear-splitting bellow of laughter. Drawing on every particle of my will power I roared back, “Get back to your bed. If I have any more trouble I’ll go straight and fetch your master.”
    He went back. I decided that since he hadn’t attacked me the safest thing would be to seem unconcerned, really to try to sleep. I think that I managed to do so in a nightmarish fashion.
    When morning came at last I was up betimes. I noticed that no sooner did I jump out of bed than the gorilla did too. I shaved, washed and packed my rucksack, all quite deliberately. Then I went down into the farmyard. Although it was still only seven o’clock, I eventually decided to go into the house and to wait there for breakfast. By so doing I hoped to escape from the ever-watchful eye of the gorilla.
    In my story thus far there have been occasions when luck has rather decisively taken my side. Indeed I realized once or twice that I had rather been overdrawing my account in this respect. Now, in an instant, I was called on to repay my borrowings, at a usurer’s rate of interest. The