some time, but without result.
“We might as well save our breath, I suppose,” Cadogan said at last “What do you think the time is?”
“Only about ten or five to two. I never went under completely, and I was vaguely conscious all along of what was going on. I came round properly almost as soon as they’d got us in here.”
“There’s something sticking into my bottom.”
“This is interesting, you know”—in the darkness Fen’s voice assumed a faintly pedagogic tinge—“because it seems to indicate that if we’d caught that girl she could have told us something important; and Scylla and Charybdis were obviously out to stop us hearing it. Also, I have a nasty feeling that at the moment they may be busy silencing her…” His voice faded away.
After a time he resumed: “Rosseter, or the fellow who knocked you on the head, could have set them on to us. My money is distinctly on the latter.”
“Sharman?”
“No—he never moved from the bar after we’d met him. If he’d recognized you (and made the arrangement beforehand) he wouldn’t have talked so freely. Sharman is out.”
There was a long and gloomy silence. In their cramped position, both men were beginning to get pins and needles. Cadogan’s mouth was dry and his head aching and he wished for a cigarette.
“Let’s play ‘Unreadable Books’,” he suggested.
“All right. Ulysses .”
“Yes. Rabelais.”
“Yes. Tristram Shandy .”
“Yes. The Golden Bowl .”
“Yes. Rasselas .”
“No, I like that.”
“Good God. Clarissa , then.”
“Yes. Titus —”
“Shut up a minute. I think I can hear someone coming.”
There were, in fact, footsteps approaching on the stone floor outside—light and erratic footsteps.
“Now, all together,” said Fen briskly. “One… two… three…” They let out a deafening, horrible noise. “ ‘Like a wind,’” Fen quoted reflectively, “ ‘that shrills all night in a waste land where no one comes…’”
The footsteps wavered, came near, stopped. The key turned in the lock, the door of the cupboard opened, and a flood of daylight made them blink. A small, deaf, and very aged don, wearing his gown, peered in.
“A rat!” he squeaked dramatically. “A rat i’ the arras!” He made motions of plunging a sword into them, and this exasperated Fen.
“Wilkes!” Fen said. “For God’s sake let us out of here.”
“What do you think you’re up to, eh?” Wilkes asked
“Untie us, you silly old man,” Fen shouted at him in annoyance.
“Some babyish prank, I suppose,” Wilkes proceeded without perturbation. “Heh. Well, I suppose someone has to save you from the consequence of your follies.” With shaky but determined fingers, he attacked the knot of the handkerchief which was tied round Fen’s wrists. “All this detecting, that’s what it is. People who play with fire must expect to be burned, heh.”
“Prosing away… ” Fen grumbled He untied the thick string from his ankles, and hoisted himself stiffly out of the cupboard. “What’s the time, Wilkes?”
“Half past kissing time,” said Wilkes. Time to kiss again.” He freed Cadogan’s wrists. The college clock whirred and struck two. Cadogan extricated himself and stood upright, feeling very groggy.
“Now, listen, Wilkes,” said Fen with great earnestness, “because this is important—”
“Can’t hear a word.”
“I said THIS IS IMPORTANT.”
“What’s important?”
“I haven’t told you yet.”
“I know you haven’t; that’s why I asked. Heh.” Wilkes rubbed his hands together delightedly and capered about on the stone paving. Fen stared at him malignantly. “But you needn’t think I don’t know. It’s that girl you’ve been chasing. I saw you.”
“Yes, yes. Have you seen her? ”
“Casanova Fen.”
“Oh, my fur and whiskers.”
“I saw her,” said Wilkes, “when I was coming in here.”
“Well?” Fen could not contain his impatience.
“The bogles have got
“We might as well save our breath, I suppose,” Cadogan said at last “What do you think the time is?”
“Only about ten or five to two. I never went under completely, and I was vaguely conscious all along of what was going on. I came round properly almost as soon as they’d got us in here.”
“There’s something sticking into my bottom.”
“This is interesting, you know”—in the darkness Fen’s voice assumed a faintly pedagogic tinge—“because it seems to indicate that if we’d caught that girl she could have told us something important; and Scylla and Charybdis were obviously out to stop us hearing it. Also, I have a nasty feeling that at the moment they may be busy silencing her…” His voice faded away.
After a time he resumed: “Rosseter, or the fellow who knocked you on the head, could have set them on to us. My money is distinctly on the latter.”
“Sharman?”
“No—he never moved from the bar after we’d met him. If he’d recognized you (and made the arrangement beforehand) he wouldn’t have talked so freely. Sharman is out.”
There was a long and gloomy silence. In their cramped position, both men were beginning to get pins and needles. Cadogan’s mouth was dry and his head aching and he wished for a cigarette.
“Let’s play ‘Unreadable Books’,” he suggested.
“All right. Ulysses .”
“Yes. Rabelais.”
“Yes. Tristram Shandy .”
“Yes. The Golden Bowl .”
“Yes. Rasselas .”
“No, I like that.”
“Good God. Clarissa , then.”
“Yes. Titus —”
“Shut up a minute. I think I can hear someone coming.”
There were, in fact, footsteps approaching on the stone floor outside—light and erratic footsteps.
“Now, all together,” said Fen briskly. “One… two… three…” They let out a deafening, horrible noise. “ ‘Like a wind,’” Fen quoted reflectively, “ ‘that shrills all night in a waste land where no one comes…’”
The footsteps wavered, came near, stopped. The key turned in the lock, the door of the cupboard opened, and a flood of daylight made them blink. A small, deaf, and very aged don, wearing his gown, peered in.
“A rat!” he squeaked dramatically. “A rat i’ the arras!” He made motions of plunging a sword into them, and this exasperated Fen.
“Wilkes!” Fen said. “For God’s sake let us out of here.”
“What do you think you’re up to, eh?” Wilkes asked
“Untie us, you silly old man,” Fen shouted at him in annoyance.
“Some babyish prank, I suppose,” Wilkes proceeded without perturbation. “Heh. Well, I suppose someone has to save you from the consequence of your follies.” With shaky but determined fingers, he attacked the knot of the handkerchief which was tied round Fen’s wrists. “All this detecting, that’s what it is. People who play with fire must expect to be burned, heh.”
“Prosing away… ” Fen grumbled He untied the thick string from his ankles, and hoisted himself stiffly out of the cupboard. “What’s the time, Wilkes?”
“Half past kissing time,” said Wilkes. Time to kiss again.” He freed Cadogan’s wrists. The college clock whirred and struck two. Cadogan extricated himself and stood upright, feeling very groggy.
“Now, listen, Wilkes,” said Fen with great earnestness, “because this is important—”
“Can’t hear a word.”
“I said THIS IS IMPORTANT.”
“What’s important?”
“I haven’t told you yet.”
“I know you haven’t; that’s why I asked. Heh.” Wilkes rubbed his hands together delightedly and capered about on the stone paving. Fen stared at him malignantly. “But you needn’t think I don’t know. It’s that girl you’ve been chasing. I saw you.”
“Yes, yes. Have you seen her? ”
“Casanova Fen.”
“Oh, my fur and whiskers.”
“I saw her,” said Wilkes, “when I was coming in here.”
“Well?” Fen could not contain his impatience.
“The bogles have got
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