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obligingly shortchanged him。
'Anything new with you？' Old Pete asked the barman when the shock…headed hooligan had returned once more to the humming machine。
'Very little；' said Neville。 'I had another postcard from Archroy。 Delivered； I hasten to add； by a relief postman of charm and good character； who chooses to deliver a fellow's mail unread。'
Old Pete chuckled。 'Wee Dave still shacked up in the loony ward at the Cottage Hospital then？'
'No； he's out； but happily he has not returned to the round。'
'Vindictive； grudge…bearing wee bastard；' said Old Pete。 'So what of Archroy； how fares the lad upon his travels？'
'He claims to have discovered Noah's Ark upon the peak of Ararat；' said Neville rather proudly。 'His last card said that he has employed a gang of Kurds to work upon chipping the lower portion of the great vessel from the glacial floor。 It is tough going by all accounts。'
'It would be。' Old Pete stifled a snigger。
Neville shrugged。 'It is a queer business。 I confess that I do not know exactly what to make of it。 It would be a rare one if it were true。 I can't help feeling that there is a catch in it somewhere and that it will cost me dearly。'
'Well；' said Old Pete； in a tone of great seriousness； 'do not get me wrong； for I am no churchman； but I will tell you a strange thing。 During the Hitlerian War I was serving as warden in a refugee centre in South London。 One night I got chatting with a young Russian； and he showed me four photographs which he claimed to be of the Ark of Noah。' Neville's good eye widened。 'They were old grainy sepia prints； much travelled and much stained； but he treated them as if they were holy relics。 He'd been torpedoed off a troop ship and he claimed that the photos had saved his life。 It seems that the folk who live around Ararat have always known of the Ark's existence。 Apparently it is visible for only a few short months； once or twice a century； and during this time their holy men make a pilgrimage up the mountainside to scrape off pitch from the hull。 This they make into amulets as a protection against drowning。'
Neville was fascinated。 'But how did this fellow e by the photographs？'
Old Pete rattled his empty glass on the counter and feigned deafness。 Neville snatched it up from his fist and refilled it。 Old Pete continued with his story。 'Told me that his father got them from one of a party of Russians who rediscovered the thing during the time of the Czar。'
'And did you think them genuine？'
'Who can say？ They were definitely photographs of some very old and very large vessel half submerged in a glacier。 I confess that I never took a lot of notice of them at the tune。 There was an air raid going on。'
'But what happened to the young Russian？'
'Got blown up！' said Old Pete maliciously。 'Seems that the photographs offered no protection against that kind of thing。'
'You made it all up；' sneered Neville； reaching for a glass and his polishing cloth。
Old Pete took out his shabby…looking wallet and laid it reverently upon the bar。 'And what if I told you that he gave me one of the photographs and that I have been carrying it with me for more than thirty years？ What would you say to that； oh doubting Thomas？'
Neville's twitch； which had taken a temporary leave of absence； returned reinvigorated。 'He didn't？ You haven't。。。 ？'
Old Pete swept up his wallet and thrust it back into his pocket。 'Course I bloody haven't！' he said triumphantly。 'You'll believe any damn thing at times； won't you； Neville？'
The part…time barman bit upon a filling。 That was twice he had been done down in a single lunchtime and he would have no more of it。 Silently he swore a great and terrible oath to his pagan deity； that he would unremittingly bar for life the next person； no matter whom it might be； who tried to get one over on him。 To make it more binding he pricked his finger and drew the blood the length of his knobkerry。 There was no getting out of a vow like that。
'Give me the same again please； Neville；' said the chuckling ancient。
Norman entered the Flying Swan looking somewhat ashen。 Neville hadn't seen him for some time and he marvelled at the shopkeeper's lack of eyebrows and apparently hand…carved wooden teeth。 Some new frippery of fashion amongst the shop…keeping fraternity； he supposed。
'Give me one of those；' said Norman； gesturing towards the scotch。
'Closed for stock…taking？' Neville asked。 'Or have the health people been sampling your toffees again？'
'Just pour the drink。' Neville did so。
Norman suddenly stiffened。 'Has Small Dave been in here？' he asked； squinting about the bar。
'No；' said Neville； 'but I think I am about ready for him now。'
'You're not；' moaned Norman； 'take my word for it。' As he had already thrown the scotch down his throat； Neville refilled his glass。 'He was in my place and there is something not altogether right about him。'
'There never was。'
'This is different。' Norman peered over his shoulder to assure himself that he had not been followed in。 'He knows things。'
'Course he knows things； he's always reading your damned mail and squinting through people's letter…boxes。 Vindictive； grudge…bearing wee。。。 '
'Yes； I know all that； but listen！' Norman posed himself。 Neville took the opportunity to collect payment for the drinks。 'He es into my shop；' said Norman； 'wants his copy of Psychic News。 Isn't in； says I。 He mutters away to himself for a moment and then； it's third from the bottom of the pile； says he。 With the bloody corner up； says I。'
'Well of course you did；' said Neville。
'May I continue？' Neville nodded and Norman drew him closer and spoke in hushed and confidential tones。 Old Pete turned up his hearing aid and placed it upon the counter。
'I root through the pile of papers and there it is； plain as plain； third up from the bottom； just like he'd said。 Here you go then； says I。 Five Woodbine also； says himself。 I hand him a packet； he has another mutter then tells me they're stale。 Without even opening them！ I get in a lather then； but I open up the packet just to be polite； and damn if the things aren't as dry as dust。' Neville looked at Old Pete； who merely shrugged。 Young Chips； however； was taking it all in。 'Anyway；' Norman continued； 'he then points to another packet on the shelf and says that he understands that they are all right and so he'll take them。 If this wasn't bad enough； as he's leaving the shop； he tells me that my false teeth are going mouldy under the counter。'
'And were they？' asked Old Pete。
Norman drew a furry…looking set of National Healthers from his pocket and tossed them on to the bar top。 'Lost them a week or more back。 He couldn't possibly have guessed they were there。'
'Curious；' said Neville； scratching at his greying temples。
'But that's not the worst of it。'
'You mean there's more？'
'Oh yes。' Norman's voice had a disarmingly tremulous pitch to it。 'He said we must be off now。 We； that's what he said。 But we will be back。 With that the shop door opens by itself； he walks out and the thing closes behind him of its own accord。'
'Norman；' said Neville in a calm and even voice； 'Norman； you are barred for life。 Kindly get out of my pub and never； ever； ever return。'
15
Professor Slobe was at his desk； busily at work amongst his books； when two bedraggled and heavily bearded travellers appeared at his French windows。 'e in； lads；' he said cheerily； 'I am sure I do not need to inform you where I keep the decanter。'
'Do you know how far it is to Penge？' asked John Omally。
'I've never troubled to find out； although they tell me that it's very nice。'
'Oh； very pleasant；' said Pooley； 'but a fair hitch from Brentford。'
'My apologies；' said the old man； when the two men were both seated and clutching at their brimming glasses。 'But you see； I had no wish to force your hands over this matter。 I was not altogether certain that if I simply confronted you with the truth you would believe it。 Rather； I considered that if matters were simply allowed to run their course； your inquisitiveness would get the better of you and you would involve yourselves。 My surmise was accurate； I see。'
'As ever；' said Pooley。
'You quite suit the beards。'
'Soap Distant doesn't own a razor。'
'Apparently he hasn't grown a hair on his face in five years。'
'An interesting man；' said the Professor； 'if a trifle eccentric。'
Omally's attention had bee drawn to an elaborate brass device which now stood upon a pedestal in the centre of the Professor's study。 'What is that body？' he asked。
'An orrery；' said the old gentleman。 'I thought it might interest you。'
'Pre…eminently；' said Omally。 'I find little in life more interesting than an orrery。'
Professor Slobe raised an admonitory eyebrow； but after a moment of brief consideration regarding the deprivations suffered by his guests over the last few days he lowered it again。
'Let me show you；' he said； gesturing towards the instrument。 The two men grudgingly rose from their fy chairs； carefully bearing their glasses。
'It's a mechanical device of great age；' the Professor explained； 'demonstrating the movement of the planets about our Sun and their relative positions