rr.eastofealing-第11章

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s　cellar。　Pooley　craned　his　head　above　the　assembled　throng　and　was　more　than　a　little　surprised　at　what　he　saw。
　Somehow；　inexplicably　jammed　into　the　four…foot　opening；　was　Neville　the　part…time　barman。
　'Someone　get　me　out；'　wailed　this　man；　his　voice　soaring　in　pitch　and　volume　above　that　of　the　rumbling　spectators。　'By　the　gods　somebody；　please！'
　Pooley　rubbed　at　his　eyes。　This　was　an　impossibility　surely？　Thin　man　trapped　in　fat　opening；　such　things　could　not　be　reasonably　expected　to　occur。　But　strange　as　strange；　here　they　were　doing　that　very　thing。　Neville　spied　out　Pooley's　face　bobbing　amongst　the　sea　of　others。　'Jim；'　he　shouted。　'Help　me　out　will　you？'
　Pooley　hastened　to　oblige。　'Stand　back　now；　ladies　and　gents；'　he　said。　'Give　the　man　some　air　now；　please。'
　'On　your　bike；　Pooley；'　said　Old　Pete；　who　had　a　particularly　good　place　near　the　front。　'We're　not　going　to　miss　any　of　this。'
　'Be　fair；'　Jim　pleaded。　'You　can　see　he's　in　a　bad　way；　give　the　lad　a　break。'
　'How　do　you　suppose　it's　done；　then？'　said　Old　Pete。　'Mirrors；　do　you　think？'
　Pooley　shook　his　head。　'I've　really　no　idea；　might　it　be　what　they　call　a　shared　vision？　I've　read　of　such　things。'
　'Possibly　that。　When　I　was　in　the　East；　a　lad　in　the　regiment　took　us　to　see　the　Indian　rope　trick。　We　saw　the　whole　thing。　Magician　throws　up　a　rope；　it　hangs　in　the　air；　he　climbs　up　then　vanishes；　then　he　climbs　down；　the　whole　thing。'
　'Really？'
　'Oh　yes；　well　a　bloke　with　us　took　pictures　and　when　we　got　them　back；　what　did　they　show？'
　'Tell　me。'
　'They　showed　a　mendicant　standing　beside　a　coil　of　rope。　Every　picture　the　same。　Now　what　lied；　the　camera's　eye；　or　our　own？'
　Neville；　whose　face　had　deepened　in　colour　by　several　shades　during　the　course　of　this　fascinating　conversation；　let　out　a　great　and　terrible　scream。
　'Keep　it　down；　Neville；'　said　Old　Pete。　'Can't　you　see　we　are　trying　to　apply　ourselves　to　the　situation。'
　'Oh；　so　sorry；'　said　the　bunged…up　barman。
　'We　are　doing　our　best；'　Pooley　assured　him。　'It　is　just；　well；　the　situation　has　some　rather　unique　qualities；　too　hasty　a　decision　could　result　in　disaster。　'
　'Tell　you　what；'　said　Old　Pete；　'I'll　go　through　the　bar　and　into　the　cellar；　I'll　pull　and　you　push。'　Pete　scuttled　away　through　the　saloon…bar　door。
　'There；'　said　Pooley。　'Help　is　at　hand；　do　not　worry。'
　'I'm　running　out　of　breath；'　mumbled　the　barman。　'I'll　die　here　in　full　public　gaze。　The　humiliation；　the　shame。　What　a　way　to　go。'
　'e　on　now；'　said　Jim；　doing　his　best　to　usher　away　the　crowd　which　now　spilled　out　into　the　Haling　Road。　'Be　off　about　your　business；　please。'　He　shouted　down　towards　the　cellar；　'Pete；　are　you　there？'　But　there　was　no　reply。　'Now　what　is　he　playing　at？'　asked　Pooley。　'I'll　slip　inside　and　see　if　he's　all　right。'　Jim　slipped　into　the　bar；　leaving　the　mob　to　close　in　about　the　howling　barman。　He　joined　Old　Pete　up　at　the　bar。
　'Took　your　time；　didn't　you？'　the　elder　enquired。　'Losing　your　grip　then；　is　it？　Here；　have　one　on　the　house。'　He　poured　Jim　a　large　whisky　from　the　barman's　reserve　stock。　'Cheers；'　he　said。
　'Down　the　hatch；'　Pooley　replied。　'No　offence　meant；　Neville。'
　'So；'　Old　Pete　continued；　'what　do　you　take　it　to　be；　publicity　stunt　do　you　think？'
　Jim　shrugged　hugely。　'You've　got　me。　I　can't　see　how　it　works；　but　he　does　appear　to　be　wedged　in　solid。'
　'Nah；　he's　probably　up　on　blocks。　No　doubt　the　brewery　are　planning　a　Billy　Bunter　night　or　some　such　abomination。'
　'Perish　the　thought。'　Jim　Pooley　crossed　himself　and　tossed　back　his　scotch。　'Any　more　left　in　that　bottle？'　he　asked。
　Outside；　exciting　things　were　about　to　happen。　Leo　Felix；　Brentford's　Rastafarian　used…car　dealer；　had　been　passing　by　in　his　tow…truck；　seeing　the　crowd　gathered　outside　the　Swan；　the　free…ale　sign　had　flashed　up　in　his　colourful　head。　Now；　he　decided；　might　be　a　good　time　to　make　his　peace　with　Neville；　who　had　but　recently　barred　him；　once　more；　for　life。　Even　as　Pete　and　Pooley　chit…chatted　in　the　bar；　Leo；　dreadlocks　a…dangle；　was　busily　engaged　in　hooking　Neville　up　to　the　winch　on　the　back　of　his　truck。　'I　and　I　soon　have　you　back　on　your　feet；'　he　assured　Neville。　The　part…time　barman　seemed　strangely　reticent　about　accepting　this　particular　offer　of　help；　and　while　the　crowd　applauded　and　offered　encouragement；　he　shrieked　and　wriggled　and　invoked　the　aid　of　his　pagan　gods。　The　way　things　were　going　he　felt　that　he　would　soon　be　getting　the　opportunity　to　address　them　face　to　face。
　Leo　was　by　now　up　in　his　cab。　'Jah；　Jah　Willing；'　he　said　as　he　revved　the　engine　and　ram…jammed　his　thumb　down　on　the　hoist　button。　The　cheering　crowd　parted　as　the　hoist　took　up　the　slack。
　'Oooooooooh；'　went　Neville　as　the　improvised　harness　tightened　beneath　his　armpits。
　'Quite　mild　for　the　time　of　year；'　said　Jim　as　he　poured　two　more　drinks。
　'Fair；'　said　Pete。　'I've　seen　better。'
　Young　Chips　pricked　up　his　ears　as　outside　the　barman's　scream　rose　to　a　frequency　beyond　human　register。　Sickening；　bone…crunching　sounds　were　emanating　from　the　barman's　middle　regions　and　the　cement　about　the　cellar　door's　metal　frame　was　splitting　and　shivering。　The　crowd　drew　back　in　sudden　alarm；　this　was　no　laughing　matter。　'Switch　your　winch　off；　Leo；'　shouted　somebody。　'You'll　pull　him　in　half。'　Leo　thumbed　the　button。　He　had　been　meaning　to　have　it　fixed　for　some　time。　The　thing　popped　out　from　the　dashboard　and　fell　into　his　upturned　palm。　'Haile　Selassie！'　said　Leo　Felix。
　'。。。；'　went　Neville　the　part…time　barman。
　'Back　your　truck　up　then　for　God's　sake；'　shouted　another　somebody；　'we'll　try　and　get　the　cable　off　him。'
　Leo　hastened　into　the　driving　seat　and　stuck　the　customized　Bedford　into　reverse。　Gear　cogs　ground　together　adding　further　screams　of　distress　to　those　already　being　loudly　voiced。
　He　had　been　meaning　to　get　the　reverse　fixed　for　some　time。
　With　an　almighty　clunk　the　gear　found　its　housing；　and　lodged　into　it　as　firmly　as　a　barman　in　a　beer　cellar。　Leo　clawed　at　the　gear…stick　but　it　would　not　shift　by　an　inch。　His　knackered　tow…truck；　sick　to　the　worn　treads　with　its　constant　bad　treatment；　had　chosen　this　of　all　times　to　exact　revenge　upon　its　Caribbean　tormentor。　Tearing　his　keys　from　the　dash；　Leo　Felix　leapt　pale…faced　from　the　cab。　The　malevolent　tow…truck　rolled　relentlessly　backwards；　bound　for　the　crowd　and　the　struggling　barman。
　As　the　unstoppable　vehicle　gathered　speed；　those　free　to　do　so　hastily　took　to　their　heels。　Neville　stared　up；　his　good　eye　starting　from　its　socket。　The　acrid　smell　of　exhaust　fumes　filled　his　brain；　and　a　rear　number…plate　which　read　NEM　1515　began　to　engulf　his　world。
　It　looked　very　much　like　strawberry　jam　time　for　Neville　the　part…time　barman。　The　truck's　engine　roared　like　some　beast　loosed　from　the　bottomless　pit；　and　ground　upon　its　hellish　course。　With　one　final　despairing　gasp　Neville　passed　from　consciousness；　which　as　it　happened　was　quite　a　shame　because　he　missed　the　very　best　bit。
　As　the　crowd　burst　asunder　in　a　screaming　panic…torn　explosion；　a　heroic　figure　leapt　into　the　fray。　He　plunged　through　the　mass　of　fleeing　humankind　and　took　up　a　stance　between　the　atose　barman　and　the　roaring　instrument　of　doom。　The　feet　of　this　titan　were　firmly　rooted　upon　the　pavement　and　his　face　was　a　cold　mask　of　determination。　His　eyes　shone　with　a　strange　inner　light。　With　a　single　sudden　lunge　forward；　he　grasped　the　tailgate　of　the　wheel…screeching　vehicle　and　stopped　it　dead　in　its　tracks。　The　tyres　squealed　upon　the　pavement；　raising　black　clouds　of　tread。　With　superhuman　effort　Neville's　deliverer　dragged　it　up　from　the　ground。　The　engine　whined　into　overdrive　and　exhaust　smoke　enveloped　him　in　a　great　monoxide　cloud　of　death。　Struggling　beneath　the　weight　of　the　possessed　vehicle；　he　bore　it　aloft；　and　held　it　high　above　his　head。　The　truck　rocked　and　shuddered；　howling　like　a　banshee；　but　in　a　moment　he　had　done　with　it。
　Brentford's　St　George　cast　down　the　mechanical　dragon；　bursting　out　its　tyres；　scrambling　its　axles；　and　driving　its　engine　to　ruination　upon　the　cold　stones　of　the　pavement。　As　the　smoke　cleared；　small　knots　of　the　cowardly　crowd　stared　back　in　wonder。　The　hero　calmly　knotted　the　slackened　hoist　cable　about　his　hand　and　tore　it　from　its　mountings。　He　turned　slowly　towards　Neville　and；　freeing　him　from　his　hangman's　harness；　stooped　and　carefully　drew　him　up　to　pavement　level；　where　he　laid　him　gently　to　rest。
　Before　the　crowd　could　arouse　itself　from　its　slack…jawed　wonderment；　engulf　the　hero；　and　raise　him　shoulder…high；　Norman　silently　turned　away　from　the　scene　of　his　glory　and　strode　back　to　his　corner…shop。
　
　12
　The　ambulance　bells　had　long　died　away　into　memory　when　three　men　came　strolling　along　the　Baling　Road。　One　was　bowed　and　ancient；　walking　with　the　aid　of　a　slim　ebony　cane；　a　mane　of　snow…white　hair　trailing　out　behind　him。　Another　was　tall　and　gaunt　with　a　great　hawk　of　a　nose；　clad　in　an　oddly　Victorian　tweed　suit。　As　to　the　last；　he　was　Irish　and　wanted　his　thirty　quid。
　As　these　three　approached　the　Swan；　Sherlock　Holmes　suddenly　laid　a　gentle　palm　upon　the　Professor's　chest　and　said；　'Now　what　do　you　make　of　that！'
　Professor　Slobe　shook　his　old　head。　'Cellar　doors　ajar；　a　barman　somewhat　remiss　in　his　duties？'
　'Oh；　no；'　said　Holmes。　'Much　more。　And　what　here？'
　The　elder　perused　Leo's　defunct　tow…truck　parked　at　the　kerb；　its　back　axle　supported　by　two　piles　of　red　flettons。　'Unusual　bravado　upon　the　part　of　the　local　criminal　fraternity？'　he　suggested。
　'I　think　not。'　Holmes　drew　out　his　glass　and　as　Omally　watched　him；　with　one　eye　forever　straying　towards　the　saloon…bar　door；　he　dropped　to　all　fours　and　perused　the　pavement。
　'How　many　entrances　to　this　cellar？'　asked　Holmes；　looking　up。
　'Just　that；'　said　Omally。　'And　a　door　behind　the　bar。'
　'I　see。'　Holmes　examined　the　blackened　skid　marks。　'Interesting；'　said　he。
　'Riveting；'　said　John。　'Might　we　step　inside　now；　please？'
　Holmes　rose　to　his　feet　and　patted　dust　from　his　trouser　knees。　'I　think　so；'　he　said。
　Omally　led　the　way　and　the　three　men　entered　the　bar。　Pooley；　who　with　Old　Pete's　aid　had　long　ago　finished　the　bottle　of　Neville's　reserve；　rose　unsteadily　to　greet　them。　Omally　eyed　him　with　great　suspicion。　'Have　you　seen　Soap　this　morning？'　he　asked。
　Pooley　shook　his　head。　'You've　missed　all　the　excitement。'
　'Obviously。　Whose　round　is　it？'
　'I'll　get　these；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'Holmes？'
　'A　small　sherry；'　the　detective　replied。　'And　a　small　word　with　Mr　Pooley　here。'
　'Oh　yes？'　asked　the　half…drunken　Jim。
　'The　fellow　with　the　beard　serving　behind　the　bar　is　not；　I　believe；　the　regular　barman。'
　Pooley　squinted　disgustedly　towards　Croughton　the　pot…bellied　potman；　who　was　now　up　to　his　elbows　in　froth　behind　the　beer　engines。　'Certainly　not；'　said　he。
　'And　the　regular　barman；　a　gentleman　of　some　standing　in　this　munity；　he　is　not　one　who　would　leave　the　bar　during　a　lunchtime　session　without　a　very　good　reason？'
　'Not　Neville。'
　'So　I　would　be　right　then　in　assuming　that　the　fat　gentleman　who　was　until　recently　stuck　fast　in　the　cellar　doors　was　this　very　Neville？'
　'You　what？'　said　John　Omally。　'What　happened　here；　Jim？'