rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第35节

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　'I　think　not；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'I　recall　asking　you　for　a　pound's…worth　of　change　from　the　Swan's　cash　register。'
　'You　did　sir；　yes。'　Pooley　shook　his　head　at　the　Professor's　foresight　and　fought　his　way　towards　the　bar。
　Neville　faced　his　customer　with　a　cold　good　eye。　'e　to　kick　me　in　the　cobblers　again；　Pooley？'　he　asked。　'You　are　here　on　sufferance　you　know；　as　a　guest　of　Omally　and　the　Professor。'
　Jim　nodded　humbly。　'What　can　I　say？'
　'Very　little；'　said　Neville。　'Can　you　smell　creosote？'
　Pooley's　moustachios　shot　towards　the　floor　like　a　dowser's　rod。　'Where？'　he　asked　in　a　tremulous　voice。
　'Somewhere　close；'　said　Neville。　'Take　my　word；　it　bodes　no　good。'
　'Be　assured　of　that。'　Pooley　loaded　the　tray　and　cast　a　handful　of　coins　on　the　counter。
　'Keep　the　change；'　he　called；　retreating　fearfully　to　his　table。
　'We're　up　next；'　said　Omally；　upon　the　shaky　Jim's　return。　'Will　you　wager　a　pound　or　two　upon　the　home　team？'
　'Neville　smells　creosote；'　said　Jim。
　'Take　it　easy。'　Professor　Slobe　patted　the　distraught　Pooley's　arm。　'I　have　no　doubt　that　they　must　suspect　something。　Be　assured　that　they　are　being　watched。'
　The　Captain　Laser　Alien　Attack　machine　rattled　out　another　series　of　electronic　explosions。
　Norman　stepped　on　to　the　mat　amidst　tumultuous　applause。　He　licked　the　tips　of　his　darts　and　nodded　towards　the　adjudicator。
　'Swan　to　throw；'　said　that　man。
　Norman's　mastery　of　the　game；　his　style　and　finesse；　were　legend　in　Brentford。　Certain　supporters　who　had　moved　away　from　the　area　travelled　miles　to　witness　his　yearly　display　of　skill。　One　pink…eyed　man；　who　kept　forever　to　the　shadows；　had　actually　travelled　from　as　far　afield　as　Penge。
　'One　hundred　and　eighty；'　shouted　the　adjudicator；　although　his　words　were　lost　in　the　Wembley　roar　of　the　crowd。
　'It　is　poetry；'　said　Omally。
　'Perfect　mastery；'　said　Pooley。
　'I　think　it　has　something　to　do　with　the　darts；'　said　Professor　Slobe；　'and　possibly　the　board；　which　I　understand　he　donated　to　the　Swan。'
　'You　are　not　implying　some　sort　of　electronic　duplicity　upon　the　part　of　our　captain；　are　you？'　Omally　asked。
　'Would　I　dare？　But　you　will　notice　that　each　time　he　throws；　the　Guinness　clock　stops。　This　might　be　nothing　more　than　coincidence。'
　The　whole　world　holds　its　breath　when　Norman　throws；'　said　Omally；　further　shortening　the　already　impossibly　foreshortened　odds　upon　the　home　team。　'Whose　round　is　it？'
　'I　will　go　on　to　sherry　now；　if　you　please；'　said　the　Professor。　'I　have　no　wish　to　use　the　Swan's　convenience　tonight。'
　'Quite　so；'　said　John。　'We　would　all　do　well　to　stay　in　the　crowd。　Shorts　all　round　then。'　Rising　from　the　table；　he　took　up　his　book；　and　departed　into　the　crowd。
　Old　Pete　approached　Professor　Slobe　and　greeted　the　scholar　with　much　hand…wringing。　'My　dog　Chips　tells　me　that　we　have　a　bogey　in　our　midst；'　said　he。
　'And　a　distinguished　one　of　the　literary　persuasion；'　the　elder　ancient　replied。　'Tell　your　dog　that　he　has　nothing　to　fear；　he　is　on　our　side。'
　Old　Pete　nodded　and　turned　the　conversation　towards　the　sad　decline　in　the　nation's　morals　and　Professor　Slobe's　opinion　of　the　post　office　puter。
　Omally　found　the　boy　Nick　at　the　bar；　ordering　a　half　of　light　and　lime。　'Have　this　one　on　me；'　he　said；　handing　the　boy　two　florins。　'You　are　doing　a　grand　job。'
　Raffles　Rathbone　raised　a　manicured　eyebrow。　'Don't　tell　me　you　now　approve？'　he　asked。
　'Each　to　his　own。　I　have　never　been　one　to　deny　the　pleasures　of　the　flesh。　Here；　have　a　couple　of　games　on　me　and　don't　miss　now；　will　you？'　He　dropped　several　more　coins　into　the　boy's　outstretched　palm。
　'I　never　miss；'　Nick　replied。　'I　have　the　game　mastered。'
　'Good　boy。　Two　gold　watches　and　a　small　sweet　sherry　please；　Neville。'
　The　part…time　barman　glared　at　Omally。　'You　are　paying　for　these；'　he　snarled。　'I　still　have　my　suspicions。'
　'You　can　owe　me　later；'　Omally　replied；　delving　into　his　pockets。　'I　am　a　man　of　my　word。'
　'And　I　mine；　eighteen　and　six　please。'
　'Do　you　know　something　I　don't？'　Nick　asked　the　Irishman。
　'A　good　many　things。　Did　you　have　anything　specific　in　mind？'
　'About　the　machine？'
　'Nothing。　Is　something　troubling　you？'
　Nick　shook　his　limey　head　and　turned　his　prodigious　nose　once　more　towards　the　unoccupied　machine。　'I　must　be　going　now；'　he　said；　'the　Captain　awaits。'
　'Buffoon；'　said　Omally　beneath　his　breath。　By　the　time　he　returned　to　the　table；　the　Swan's　team　had　disposed　of　their　adversaries　in　no　uncertain　fashion。
　'I　am　sure　that　I　am　up　by　at　least　two　bob　on　that　game；'　said　Pooley。
　Two　and　fourpence；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'Don't　let　it　go　to　your　head。'
　The　final　eliminating　match　lay　between　the　Four　Horsemen　and　the　Albany　Arms；　whose　team　of　old　stalwarts；　each　a　veteran　of　Gallipoli；　had　been　faring　remarkably　well　against　spirited　opposition。
　'Albany　Arms　to　throw；'　boomed　himself。
　'Leave　me　out　of　this　one；'　said　Pooley。　'Unless　God　chooses　to　intervene　upon　this　occasion　and　despatch　Young　Jack　into　the　bottomless　pit；　I　feel　it　to　be　a　foregone　conclusion。'
　'I　will　admit　that　you　would　have　a　wager　at　least　one　hundred　pounds　to　win　yourself　another　two　and　four…pence。'
　'Don't　you　feel　that　one　thousand　to　one　against　the　Albany　is　a　little　cruel？'
　'But　nevertheless　tempting　to　the　outside　better。'
　'Taking　money　from　children；'　said　Professor　Slocornbe。　'How　can　you　live　with　yourself；　John？'
　Omally　grinned　beneath　his　beard。　'Please　do　not　deny　me　my　livelihood；'　said　he。
　From　their　first　dart　onwards；　the　Albany　began　to　experience　inexplicable　difficulties　with　their　game。　Several　of　the　normally　robust　geriatrics　became　suddenly　subject　to　unexpected　bouts　of　incontinence　at　their　moments　of　throwing。　Others　mislaid　their　darts　or　spilled　their　beer；　one　even　locked　himself　in　the　gents'　and　refused　to　e　out　until　the　great　grinning　black　goat　was　removed　from　in　front　of　the　dartboard。
　It　was　remarkable　the　effect　that　Young　Jack　could　have　upon　his　team's　opponents。　The　crowd；　however；　was　not　impressed。　Being　responsive　only　to　the　finer　points　of　the　game　and　ever　alert　to　such　blatant　skulduggery；　they　viewed　this　degrading　spectacle　with　outrage　and　turned　their　backs　upon　the　board。
　Young　Jack　could　not　have　cared　less。　The　Four　Horsemen　needed　but　a　double　thirteen　to　take　the　match　and　the　Albany　had　yet　to　get　away。　The　present…day　Faust　smirked　over　towards　the　Professor　and　made　an　obscene　gesture。
　Professor　Slobe　shook　his　head　and　made　clicking　noises　with　his　tongue。　'Most　unsporting；'　said　he。　'I　shall　see　to　it　that　none　of　this　occurs　in　the　final。'
　Without　waiting　to　watch　the　inevitable　oute　of　the　game；　he　rose　from　his　chair　and　took　himself　off　to　where　the　Swan's　team　stood　in　a　noisy　scrum；　ignoring　the　play。
　'He　has　gone　to　bless　the　darts；　I　suspect；'　said　Omally。　'In　his　yearly　battle　of　wits　with　Young　Jack；　the　Professor　leaves　nothing　to　chance。'
　'Do　you　believe　it　possible？'　Pooley　asked　wistfully。　'That　somewhere　in　this　green　and　pleasant　land　of　ours；　this　sceptred　isle；　this　jewel　set　in　a　silver　sea　and　whatever；　that　there　might　somewhere　be　a　little　darts　team；　based　possibly　in　some　obscure　half…timbered　country　pub　out　in　the　sticks；　which　actually　plays　the　game　for　the　love　of　it　alone；　and　without　having　recourse　to　some　underhand　jiggery…pokery？'
　'Are　you　mad？'　enquired　Omally。　'Or　merely　drunk？'
　Jim　shook　his　head。　'I　just　wondered　how　such　a　game　might　look。　If　played　by　skill　alone；　I　mean。'
　'Jolly　dull；　I　should　think。　Here；　take　this　one…pound　note；　which　you　can　owe　to　me；　and　get　in　another　round。'
　Jim　watched　a　moment　as　Young　Jack's　hellish　black　dart　cleaved　the　air；　leaving　a　yellow　vapour　trail；　and　thrust　its　oily　nose　into　the　double　thirteen。　'I　should　still　like　to　see　it；'　he　said。　'Just　the　once。'
　'Naive　boy；'　sighed　Omally；　running　his　pencil　down　endless　columns　of　figures；　and　wondering　by　how　many　thousands　of　pounds　he　was　up　this　particular　evening。
　Professor　Slobe　finished　muttering　a　Latin　text　over　the　table　of　laid…out　darts　and　gave　the　benediction。　'This　will　not　of　course　enable　you　to　play　any　better；'　he　explained；　'but　it　will　protect　your　darts　from　any　mysterious　deflections　which　might　occur。'
　The　Swan's　team　nodded。　They　had　defeated　the　Four　Horsemen　in　the　final　five　years　on　the　trot　now；　which　was；　by　way　of　coincidence；　exactly　the　length　of　time　that　the　Professor　had　been　acting　as　honorary　President。　They　took　the　old　man's　words　strictly　at　their　face　value。　None　of　the　accidents　which　marred　the　play　of　the　Horsemen's　other　opponents　ever　befell　them；　and　although　few　of　the　team　knew　anything　whatever　about　the　occult；　each　blessed　the　day　that　Norman　had　suggested　the　elderly　scholar's　nomination。
　'Be　warned　now；'　Professor　Slobe　continued；　'he　does　appear　to　be　on　superb　form　tonight。　Look　wherever　you　like；　but　avoid　his　eyes。'
　Neville　appeared　through　the　crowd　bearing　a　silver　tray。　On　this　rested　a　dozen　twinkling　champagne　saucers　and　a　Georgian　silver　wine　cooler　containing　a　chilled　and　vintage　bottle　of　Pol　Roger。
　This　little　morale…booster　was　another　of　the　Professo