rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第11章
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!
than that。 Your true rune is simply a letter of the runic alphabet。 Once one has mastered the system it is fairly easy to decipher the meaning。 This; however; is an ideogram or ideograph; which is literally the graphic representation of an idea or ideas through the medium of symbolic characterization。'
'As clear as mud;' said Jim Pooley。 'I should have expected little else。'
'If you will bear with me for a while; I shall endeavour to make it clear to you。' The Professor straightened his ivory…framed spectacles and settled himself down before his book。 Pooley turned his empty glass between his fingers。 'Feel at liberty to replenish it whenever you like; Jim;' said the old man without looking up。 The pendulum upon the great ormolu mantelclock swung slowly; dividing the day up; and the afternoon began to pass。 The Professor sat at his desk; the great book spread before him; his pale; slim hand lightly tracing over the printed text。
Pooley wandered aimlessly about the study; marvelling at how it could be that the more closely he scrutinized the many books the more blurry and indecipherable their titles became。 They were indeed; as the Professor put it; 'protected'。 At length he rubbed his eyes; shook his head in defeat; and sought other pursuits。
Omally; for his part; finished the decanter of five…year…old scotch and fell into what can accurately be described as a drunken stupor。
At very great length the mantelclock struck five。 With opening time at the Swan drawing so perilously close; Pooley ventured to enquire as to whether the Professor was near to a solution。
'Oh; sorry; Jim;' said the old man; looking up; 'I had quite forgotten you were here。'
Pooley curled his lip。 It was obvious that the Professor was never to be denied his bit of gamesmanship。 'You have deciphered the symbol then?'
'Why yes; of course。 Perhaps you would care to awaken your panion。'
Pooley poked a bespittled finger into the sleeper's ear and Omally awoke with a start。
'Now then;' said Professor Slobe; closing his book and leaning back in his chair。 'Your symbol is not without interest。 It bines two runic characters and an enclosing alchemic symbol。 I can tell you what it says; but as to what it means; I confess that at present I am able to offer little in the way of exactitude。'
'We will settle for what it says; then;' said Jim。
'All right。' Professor Slobe held up Omally's sketch; and traced the lines of the symbol as he spoke。 'We have here the number ten; here the number five and here enclosing all the alchemic C。'
'A five; a ten and a letter C;' said Jim。 'I do not get it。'
'Of course you don't; it is an ideogram: the expression of an idea; if I might be allowed to interpret loosely?' The two men nodded。 'It says; I am 〃C〃 the fifth of the ten。'
The two men shook their heads。 'So what does that mean?' asked Omally。
'Search me;' said Professor Slobe。 'Was there anything else?' Pooley and Omally stared at each other in bewilderment。 This was quite unlike the Professor Slobe they knew。 No questions about where the symbol was found; no long and inexplicable monologues upon its history or purpose; in fact the big goodbye。
'There was one other thing;' said the rattled Omally; drawing a crumpled cabbage leaf from his pocket。
'If it is not too much trouble; I wonder if you would be kind enough to settle a small dispute。 Would you enlighten us as to what species of voracious quadruped could have wrought this destruction upon Small Dave's cabbage patch?'
'His Pringlea antiscorbutica?
'Exactly。' Omally handed the Professor the ruined leaf。
Professor Slobe swivelled in his chair and held the leaf up to the light; examining it through the lens of a horn…handled magnifying glass。 'Flattened canines; prominent incisors; indicative of the herbivore; by the size and shape I should say that it was obvious。' Swinging back suddenly to Omally he flung him the leaf。 'I have no idea whatever as to how you acplished that one;' he said。 'I would have said that you acquired a couple of jawbones from Gunnersbury Park Museum but for the saliva stains and the distinctive cross…hatching marks of mastication。'
'So you know what it was then?'
'Of course; it is Camelus bactrianus; the mon Egyptian Camel。'
There was something very very odd about Camelus bactrianus; the mon Egyptian Camel。 Norman squatted on his haunches in his rented garage upon the Butts Estate and stared up at the brute。 There was definitely something very very odd about it。 Certainly it was a camel far from home and had been called into its present existence by means which were totally inexplicable; even to the best educated camel this side of the Sahara; but this did not explain its overwhelming oddness。 Norman dug a finger into his nose and ruminated upon exactly what that very very oddness might be。
Very shortly it struck him with all the severity of a well…aimed half…brick。 When he had been leading the thing away to his secret hideout; it had occurred to him at the time just how easy it had been to move。 And he recalled that although he; an eight…stone weakling of the pre…Atlas…course persuasion; had left distinctive tracks; the camel; a beasty of eminently greater bulk; had left not a mark。
And now; there could be little doubt about it; the camel's feet no longer reached the ground。 In fact; the creature was floating in open defiance of all the accepted laws of gravity; some eighteen inches above the deck。
'Now that's what I would call odd;' said Norman; startling the hovering ship of the desert and causing it to break wind loudly … a thing which; in itself; might be tolerable in the sandblown reaches of the Sahara; but which was no laughing matter hi an eight…by…twelve lock…up garage。 'Ye gods;' mumbled Norman; covering his nose with a soot…stained pullover sleeve。
It was now that he noticed yet another untoward feature about the animal; which; had it been the property of the now legendary P。T。 Barnum; would no doubt have earned that great showman a fortune rivalling that of Croesus himself: the camel had the appearance of being not quite in focus。 Although Norman screwed up his eyes and viewed it from a variety of angles; the zero gravity quadruped remained a mite indistinct and somewhat fuzzy about the edges。
Norman took out an unpaid milk bill and scrawled a couple of dubious equations upon its rear。 Weight being the all…important factor of his experiment; it was obvious that his calculations regarding molecular transfer were slightly at fault。 He rose from his unfortable posture and; the air having cleared a little; picked up a clump of wisely mandeered cabbage leaves and offered them to the camel; now firmly lodged in the rafters。 The thing; however; declined this savoury morsel and set up a plaintive crying which sent chills up the back of the scientific shopkeeper。
'Ssh。。。 ssh; be quiets; damn yous;' whistled Norman; flapping his arms and searching desperately about for the wherewithal to silence the moaning creature。 Something drastic would have to be done; of that there was no doubt。 This camel; although living proof of his experiment's success; was also damning evidence against him; and its disclosure to the public at such a time; when he stood poised on the very threshold of a major breakthrough; could only spell doom to his plans in dirty big red letters。
Norman groaned plurally。 That must not be allowed to happen。 He had had run…ins with the popular press before; and he knew full well the dire consequences。 Some way or other he would have to dispose of his hovering charge。 Perhaps he could merely await nightfall then drag it outside and allow it to float away upon the wind。 Norman shuddered; with his luck the camel would most likely rise to a point just beyond reach and hang there for all the world to see。 Or far worse than that; it might sweep upwards into an aircraft's flight…path and cause a major disaster。 These thoughts brought no consolation to the worried man。
The camel was still bewailing its lot in excessively loquacious terms and Norman; a man who was rapidly learning the true meaning of the word desperation; tore off his pullover and; having dragged the moaning beastie momentarily to ground level; st