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datatime: 2022-12-08 15:06:58 Author:VCgFdpeH

The two men did not wait to see what might happen. They looked at each other, dropped the newspaper and fled.

'Where you have been for the last two days, in my bloody allotment shed.'

Norman prodded at his paper. 'Wheelbarrow clue in double slaying.'

The two men did not wait to see what might happen. They looked at each other, dropped the newspaper and fled.

'But "early arrest", what do you think that means?'

'But there isn't a photograph of the wheelbarrow?'

Up at the bar Norman, who had quietly been reading a copy of the Brentford Mercury, said suddenly, 'Now there's a thing.'

'We?' said Pooley. 'Where do you get this "we" from? It was your wheelbarrow.'

'Yes, I can't see the Mercury's ace reporter getting the journalist of the year award for it.'

The words were drowned by the scream of a police-car siren. Driven at high speed, the car came through the red lights at the bottom of Haling Road, roared past them and screeched to a standstill a hundred yards further on, outside the Flying Swan. A plainclothes detective and three burly constables leapt from the vehicle and swept into the saloon bar.

'I have no other suggestions,' said Jim. 'I can only counsel caution and the maintaining of the now legendary low profile.'

'We?' said Pooley. 'Where do you get this "we" from? It was your wheelbarrow.'

'I don't think the Professor would appreciate that, it might interfere with his plans. Also the police might claim conspiracy because we didn't come forward earlier.'

Up at the bar Norman, who had quietly been reading a copy of the Brentford Mercury, said suddenly, 'Now there's a thing.'

'Where you have been for the last two days, in my bloody allotment shed.'

Norman prodded at his paper. 'Wheelbarrow clue in double slaying.'

Pooley groaned anew. 'I was having such a beautiful dream. I can't go on here,' he moaned, 'I can't live out my days a fugitive in an allotment shed, I wish Archroy had never rebuilt it. You must give yourself up, John, claim diminished responsibility, I will gladly back you up on that.'

There are many pleasures to be had in camping out. The old nights under canvas, the wind in your hair and fresh air in your lungs. An opportunity to get away from it all and commune with nature. Days in sylvan glades watching the sunshine dancing between the leaves and dazzling the eyes. Birdsong swelling at dawn to fill the ears. In harmony with the Arcadian Spirits of olden Earth. At night a time for reverie about the crackling campfire, the sweet smell of mossy peat and pine needles. Ah yes, that is the life.

'I was just talking about that to Pooley,' said Neville, gesturing towards Jim's table.

The words were drowned by the scream of a police-car siren. Driven at high speed, the car came through the red lights at the bottom of Haling Road, roared past them and screeched to a standstill a hundred yards further on, outside the Flying Swan. A plainclothes detective and three burly constables leapt from the vehicle and swept into the saloon bar.

Pooley jerked himself awake. 'Where am I?' he groaned.

Pooley groaned anew. 'I was having such a beautiful dream. I can't go on here,' he moaned, 'I can't live out my days a fugitive in an allotment shed, I wish Archroy had never rebuilt it. You must give yourself up, John, claim diminished responsibility, I will gladly back you up on that.'

Omally was not listening, he was peeling a potato. Before him a monstrous heap of such peelings spoke most fluently of the restricted diet upon which the two were at present subsisting. 'It is spud for breakfast,' said he.

The two men did not wait to see what might happen. They looked at each other, dropped the newspaper and fled.

'But "early arrest", what do you think that means?'

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