“THE MOON ROSE LIKE A GREAT BLOATED LUMINOUS BALLOON.”
I looked across at the Colonel with a start, releasing the pause-button of my pocket recorder instantly. I hastily wrote that first sentence down in my little token notebook in case it hadn’t all been recorded, then looked up again at the Colonel expectantly . . .
I DECIDED TO SKIP VISITING THE COLONEL THE NEXT EVENING – after the rehearsing and recording-session and my walk through the surrounding countryside.
I didn’t feel up to another late night of quaffing his Puttumbee’s special by the magnumful – so I crept in surreptitiously from the rear entrance of Bagfart Manor, skulking from shadow to shadow of each beech, oak, chestnut and . . .
“IT WAS A DARK AND WINDY DAY TOWARDS THE END OF MARCH, in the year of our Lord, eighteen, ninety-two,” said Colonel Nesbit Bing Baddeley Snelgrove Bagfart, revealingly.
He leaned forward in the heavily padded, creaky-leather luxury of his Victorian Half-Nelson
– eyes atwinkle between . . .
“THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA,” said Honey.
“You’ve had an incredibly lucky escape on Mogadosabron, Jive.
And here we go again, jumping straight into danger.
We’ve got an important consignment of rare antiquities aboard and just can’t afford the risk.
There’s the Lazanese Government to contact, too.”
Fromway made no reply as he flicked for pilot manual. He jabbed the warp-drive cut-out and there was a strange shifting sensation as the . . .
“OKAY, HONEY! LET’S SKEDADDLE OUT OF HERE!”
“Did you manage to get inside the Trading Centre, Jive?”
“Yes – finally! Goddamn it all!”
“Have you completed everything you came here to do?”
“You bet your sweet ass – if you had one! After what I’ve been through
I’ve had more than I can take of this damn dicey planet”. . . . . .
THAT’S REALLY ODD!
Everything seems sort of laid-back.
Yet I feel so incredibly tense! Why?
Fromway looked down into the gardens – many levels below.
Sweet heavens, what a diabolically sheer drop!
