rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第21部分

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　'Steady　on？　Steady　on？　Have　one　yourself　barman　and　a　pound's　worth　of　change　while　you're　at　it！　What　do　you　take　me　for？'
　'Seemed　a　reasonable　request　to　me。'　Pooley　looked　towards　Omally；　who　was　covering　his　drink。　'What　is　going　on；　John？'　he　asked。
　Omally；　who　was　certainly　never　one　to　be　slow　on　the　uptake；　explained　the　situation。　'I　think　that　our　good　barman　here　believes　that　you　want　the　money　to　play　the　video　machine。'
　Pooley；　whose　mind　had　been　focused　upon　matters　quite　removed　from　video　games；　suddenly　clicked。　'Oh；'　he　said；　'good　idea；　make　it　thirty…bobs'　worth；　Neville。'
　'Aaaaaagh！'　went　the　part…time　barman；　reaching　for　his　knobkerry。
　Pooley　saw　the　hand　vanishing　below　counter　level　and　knew　it　to　be　a　very　bad　sign。　'e　now；'　he　implored；　backing　away　from　the　bar；　'be　reasonable。　I　haven't　played　it　in　a　week；　I　was　just　getting　the　hang　of　it。　Look；　let's　just　say　the　quid's…worth　and　call　it　quits。'
　Neville　brought　the　cudgel　into　prominence。　'I've　had　enough；'　he　shouted；　hefting　it　hi　a　quivering　fist。　'You　traitor。　Touch　the　thing　and　you　are　barred；　barred　for　life。　Already　today　have　I　barred　one　regular；　another　will　do　no　harm。'
　'Who　is　the　unhappy　fellow？'　asked　Omally　who；　feeling　himself　to　have　no　part　in　the　present　altercation；　had　not　shifted　from　his　seat。
　'Norman；'　growled　Neville。　'Out；　barred　for　life；　finished；　gone！'
　Omally　did　his　best　to　remain　calm。　'Norman？'
　'Norman。'
　'Norman　Hartnell　of　the　corner　shop？'
　'That　Norman；　yes。'
　'Norman　Hartnell；　the　finest　darts　player　this　side　of　the　Thames？　Norman　the　captain　of　the　Swan's　darts　team？　The　five　times　trophy…winning　darts　team？　The　very　darts　team　that　plays　at　home　for　the　championship　on　the　twenty…ninth？　That　Norman　you　have　barred　for　life？'
　What　colour　had　not　already　drained　from　Neville's　naturally　anaemic　face　took　this　opportunity　to　make　an　exit　via　his　carpet…slipper　soles。
　'！。。。！。。。'　The　barman　rocked　to　and　fro　upon　his　heels；　his　good　eye　slowly　ceased　its　ticking　and　became　glazed；　focused　apparently　upon　some　point　far　beyond　the　walls　of　the　Swan。　He　had　quite　forgotten　the　darts　tournament。　The　most　important　local　sporting　event　of　the　entire　calendar。　Without　Norman　the　team　stood　little　hope　of　retaining　the　shield　for　a　sixth　year。　What　had　he　done？　The　locals　would　kill　him。　They　would　tar　and　feather　him　and　ride　him　out　of　the　town　on　a　rail　for　this。　Darts　wasn't　just　a　game　in　Brentford；　it　was　a　religion；　and　the　Flying　Swan　its　high　temple。　A　bead　of　perspiration　appeared　in　the　very　centre　of　Neville's　forehead　and　clung　to　it　in　an　appropriately　religious　fashion　like　some　crystal　caste　mark。　'I。。。　I。。。　I。。。'　he　continued。
　Old　Pete　entered　the　Swan；　Chips　as　ever　upon　his　heels。　Being　naturally　alert；　he　spied　out　the　barman's　unnatural　behaviour　almost　at　once。　'Evening　to　you；　Omally；'　he　said；　nudging　the　Irishman's　arm。　'Haven't　missed　anything；　have　I？'
　'Sorry？'　Omally；　although　a　man　rarely　rattled；　had　been　severely　shaken　by　the　barman's　frightful　disclosure。
　'The　mime；'　said　Old　Pete。　'I'm　very　good　at　these。　Spied　out　Norman's　Quasimodo　some　days　back　and　won　an　ounce　of　tobacco。　This　one　looks　quite　easy；　what's　the　prize？'
　Omally　scratched　his　whiskers。　'What　are　you　talking　about？'
　The　old　loon　put　his　head　upon　one　side　and　stroked　his　chin。　'Is　it　a　film　or　a　television　programme？'　he　asked。　'Do　I　get　any　clues？'
　'It's　a　book；'　said　Pooley；　taking　the　opportunity　to　retrieve　his　pint　before　retreating　to　a　safe　distance。
　'I。。。　I。。。　I　。　。　。'　went　Neville。
　'Must　be　the　Bible　then；'　said　Old　Pete。　'Not　that　I've　ever　read　it。　Should　say　by　the　look　of　the　stick　and　everything　that　it's　either　Moses　parting　the　Red　Sea　or　Samson　slaying　all　those　Philippinos　with　the　jawbone　of　an　ass。'
　Young　Chips；　who　was　of　a　more　metaphysical　bent；　suspected　that　it　was　more　likely　Lobsang　Rampa's　The　Third　Eye；　with　the　caste　mark　and　the　glassy　stare　and　what　was　quite　obviously　some　kind　of　mantra　based　upon　the　concept　of　self…realization；　the　I。
　Neville　slowly　replaced　his　knobkerry；　and　turned　to　the　cash　register　where　he　drew　out　Pooley's　change；　including　amongst　it　thirty　shillings'…worth　of　florins。　Preventing　patrons　from　playing　Captain　Laser　machines　did　not　seem　to　be　of　much　importance　any　more。　'Enjoy　your　game；'　he　said；　handing　the　still　flinching　Jim　the　money。
　Old　Pete　shook　his　head。　'Can't　abide　a　poor　sport；'　he　said。　'Guessed　it　in　one；　did　I？　Told　you　I　was　good。　What　about　the　prize　then？'　Neville；　however；　had　wandered　away　to　the　end　of　the　bar　where　he　now　stood　polishing　an　imaginary　glass　with　an　invisible　bar　cloth。　'What　about　a　drink　then？'　The　ancient　turned　imploringly　towards　Pooley　and　Omally；　but　the　two　had　taken　themselves　off　to　a　side　table　where　they　now　sat　muttering　over　an　outspread　map。　'I　won　it　fair　and　square；'　said　Old　Pete　to　his　dog。　Chips　shrugged；　he　had　a　bad　feeling　about　all　this　and　wished　as　usual　to　remain　non…mittal。
　Jim　Pooley　ran　his　finger　up　and　down　the　cartographical　representation　of　Brentford　and　made　a　wash…handbasin　out　of　his　bottom　lip。　'This　really　is　all　getting　rather　dire；'　he　said。　'Spacemen　on　the　allotment；　starships　on　the　attack；　and　the　Flying　Swan　without　a　darts　captain。　Are　we　dreaming　all　this　or　can　it　really　be　true？'
　Omally　fingered　his　beard　and　examined　the　tide　marks　about　his　cuff。　'It's　true　enough；'　said　he；　'and　I　think　we　might　do　no　better　than　to　apply　ourselves　to　the　problem　in　the　hope　that　a　solution　might　be　forthing。'
　'We'll　have　to　do　something　about　Neville。'　Pooley　peered　over　his　shoulder　towards　the　dejected　figure。　'I　can't　stand　seeing　him　like　that。'
　'All　in　good　time；'　said　Omally；　giving　his　nose　a　tap。　'I　am　sure　I　shall　be　able　to　effect　some　promise　which　will　satisfy　both　parties　and　get　us　one　or　two　freemans　into　the　bargain。　For　now　though　the　map　must　be　the　thing。'
　Jim　had　his　doubts　but　applied　himself　once　more。　'What　are　we　looking　for？'　he　asked　very　shortly。
　Omally　took　out　his　Asprey's　fountain　pen；　which　by　virtue　of　its　quality　had　withstood　its　ordeal　by　water　with　remarkable　aplomb；　or　la　plume；　as　the　French　would　have　it。　'If　a　pattern　exists　here　I　shall　have　it；'　he　said　boldly。　'When　it　es　to　solving　a　conundrum；　the　Omallys　take　over　from　where　the　fellow　with　the　calabash　and　the　deerstalker　left　off。　Kindly　turn　the　map　in　my　direction。'
　'Whilst　you　are　solving　the　Enigmatic　Case　of　the　Cerean　Cipher；'　said　Pooley　sarcastically；　'I　shall　be　off　to　the　bar　for　another　brace　of　Large。　I　am　at　least　getting　pleasure　from　my　newly　acquired　wealth。'
　The　ordnance　survey　map　had　received　more　than　a　little　attention　on　his　return。　'Looks　very　nice；'　he　said。　'I　didn't　know　that　there　was　a　streak　of　William　Morris　in　you；　John。　Taken　to　designing　wallpaper；　is　it？'
　'Silence；'　said　Omally。　'If　it　is　here；　I　will　have　it。'
　Jim　sucked　at　his　pint。　'What　are　all　those？'　he　asked；　pointing　to　a　network　of　squiggles。
　'The　drainage　system　of　the　borough。'
　'Very　good；　and　those？'
　'All　the　houses　that　to　my　knowledge　have　recently　fitted　loft　insulation。'
　'You　are　nothing　if　not　thorough。　And　the　curlicues？'
　'That　is　a　personal　matter；　I　have　left　nothing　to　chance。'
　Pooley　stifled　a　snigger。　'You　surely　don't　believe　that　an　alien　strikeforce　has　plotted　out　the　homes　of　your　female　conquests　as　a　guideline　to　their　invasion？'
　'You　can　never　tell　with　aliens。'
　'Indeed。'　Pooley　watched　the　Irishman　making　crosses　along　a　nearby　side…road。　'Might　I　venture　to　ask　what　you　are　plotting　now？'
　'Morris　Minors；'　said　Omally。
　Jim　stroked　his　beard　reflectively。　'John；'　he　said；　'I　think　that　you　are　going　about　this　in　the　wrong　way。　The　Professor　suggested　that　we　look　for　some　kind　of　landmarks；　surely？'
　'All　right　then。'　Omally　handed　Jim　his　cherished　pen。　'You　are　obviously　in　tune　with　the　Professor's　reasoning；　you　find　it。'
　Pooley　pushed　out　his　lip　once　more　but　rose　to　the　challenge。　'Right　then；'　he　said；　'landmarks　it　is。　What　do　we　have？'
　'The　War　Memorial。'　Pooley　marked　a　cross。　'The　Public　Library。'　Pooley　marked　another。
　Twenty　minutes　later　the　map　had　the　appearance　of　a　spot　the　ball　contest　form　that　had　been　filled　in　by　a　millionaire。
　'I've　run　out；'　said　Omally。
　'So　has　your　pen；'　said　Jim；　handing　his　friend　the　now　ruined　instrument。　The　two　peered　over　the　devastated　map。　'One　bloody　big　mess；'　said　Jim。　'I　cannot　make　out　a　thing。'
　'Certainly　the　crosses　appear　a　little　random。'
　'I　almost　thought　we　had　it　with　the　subscribers　to　Angling　Times　though。'
　'I　could　do　with　another　drink。'
　'We　haven't　done　those　yet。'
　Omally　pressed　his　hands　to　his　temples。　'There　is　not　enough　ink　in　the　country　to　plot　every　drinker　in　Brentford。'
　'Go　and　get　them　in　then。'　Pooley　handed　John　one　of　the　Professor's　pound　notes。　'I'll　keep　at　it。'
　Ornally　was　a　goodly　time　at　the　bar。　Croughton　the　potbellied　potman；　finding　himself　under　the　sudden　overwhelming　strain　of　handling　the　bar　single…handed　while　Neville　sought　divine　guidance；　had　begun　to　crack　and　was　panicking　over　the　drinks。　The　Swan　now　swelled　with　customers　and　arguments　were　breaking　out　over　cloudy　beer　and　short　change。　Omally；　seizing　the　kind　of　opportunity　which　es　only　once　in　a　lifetime；　argued　furiously　that　he　had　paid　with　a　fiver；　the　flustered　potman；　being　in　no　fit　state　to　argue　back；　duly　doled　out　the　change　without　a　whimper。
　Omally　pocketed　the　four　well…won　oncers；　reasoning　that　the　news　of　such　an　event　might　well　unbalance　the　sensitive　Pooley's　mind　and　put　him　at　a　disadvantage　over　the　map　plotting。　When　he　returned　to　the　table　bearing　the　diinks　he　was　somewhat　surprised　to　find　that　the　expression　Jim　Pooley　now　wore　upon　his　face　mirrored　exactly　that　of　Neville　the　part…time　barman。　'Jim？'　asked　John。　'Jim；　are　you　all　right？'
　Pooley　nodded　gently。　'I've　found　it；'　he　said　in　a　distant　voice。　Omally　peered　over　the　map。　There　being　no　ink　left　in　the　pen；　Pooley　had　pierced　the　points　of　his　speculation　through　with　defunct　matchsticks。　A　pattern　stood　out　clearly　and　perfectly　defined。　It　was　immedia