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'Nothing of the sort；' Pooley replied in a wounded tone。 'Do you think that I； like yourself； can afford to fritter away my time in dalliance and idleness？ My life is spent in the never…ending search for higher truths。'
'Those which e in six or more figures？'
'None but the very same。'
'And how goes this search？'
'Fraught as ever with pitfalls for the unwary traveller。'
'As does our each；' said the Irish philosopher。
The two men sat awhile upon the library bench。 Each would dearly have liked a smoke but out of politeness each waited upon his fellow to make that first selfless gesture of the day。 'I'm dying for a fag；' sighed Jim； at length。
Omally patted his pockets in a professional manner； narrowly avoiding the destruction of five Woodbine he had secreted in his waistcoat pocket。 Tm out；' he said。
Jim shrugged。 'Why do we always go through this performance？' he asked。
Omally shook his head； 'I have no idea whatever； give us a fag； Jim？'
'Would that I could John； would that I could。 But times are up against me at the present。'
Omally shook his head sadly； 'These are troubled times for us all I fear。 Take my knee here；' he raised the gored article towards Jim's nose。 'What does that say to you？'
Pooley put his ear to Omally's knee； 'It is not saying much；' he said。 'Is it perhaps trying to tell me that it has a packet of cigarettes in its sock？'
'Not even warm。'
'Then you've got me。' Omally sighed。 'Shall we simply smoke our own today； Jim？'
'Good idea。' Pooley reached into his waistcoat pocket and Omally did likewise。 Both withdrew identical packets into the sunlight and both opened these in unison。 John's displayed five cigarettes。
Pooley's was empty。 'Now there's a thing；' said Jim。
'Decoy！' screamed John Omally。 Pooley accepted the cigarette in the manner with which it was offered。 'My thanks；' said he。 'I really do have the feeling that today I might just pull off the long…awaited Big One。'
'I have something of the same feeling myself；' his panion replied。
4
The part…time barman finished the last of his toast and patted about his lips with a red gingham napkin。 He leaned back in his chair and rested his palms upon his stomach。 He felt certain that he was putting on weight。 A thin man from birth； tall； gaunt； and scholar…stooped； Neville had never possessed a single ounce of surplus fat。 But recently it seemed to him that his jackets were growing ever more tight beneath the armpits； and that the lower button on his waistcoat was being increasingly more difficult to secure。 'Most curious；' said Neville； rising from his seat and padding over to the bathroom scales which were now a permanent fixture in the middle of the living…room floor。 Climbing aboard； he peered down between his slippered toes。 Eleven stone dead； exactly as it had been for the last twenty years。 The part…time barman shook his head in wonder； it was all very mysterious。 Perhaps the scales were wrong； gummed up with carpet fluff or something。 He'd let Norman give them the once…over。 Or perhaps it was the dry cleaners？ Things never seemed quite right there since that big bine bought old Tom Telford out。 Possibly this new lot were having a pop at him。 Putting an extra tuck in the seat of his strides every time he put them in for their monthly hose down。
Most unsporting that； hitting a lad below the belt。
Neville laughed feebly at his unintended funny； but really this was no laughter matter。 Taking out the tape measure； which now never left his person； he stretched it about his waist。 All seemed the same。 Possibly it was simply a figment of his imagination。 Possibly he was going mad。 The thought was never far from his mind nowadays。 Neville shuddered。 He would just have to pull himself together。
Sighing deeply； he shuffled away to the bedroom to dress。 Flinging off his silken dressing…gown he took up the rogue trousers from where they hung in their creases over the chair and yanked them up his legs。 With difficulty he buttoned himself into respectability。 They were definitely too tight for fort； there was no point in denying it。 Neville stooped for his socks but stopped in horror。 The blood drained from his face and his good eye started from its socket； a nasty blue tinge crept about the barman's lips。 It was worse than he feared； far worse。 His trouser bottoms were swinging about his ankles like flags at half…mast。 He wasn't only getting fatter； he was growing taller！ Neville slumped back on to his bed； his face a grey mask of despair。 It was impossible。 Certainly folk could put on weight pretty rapidly； but to suddenly spring up by a good inch and a half over night？ That was downright impossible； wasn't it？
Pooley and Omally strolled over the St Mary's Allotments en route to John's hut and the cup that cheers。 Jim tapped his racing paper upon his leg and sought inspiration from the old enamel advertising signs along the way which served here and there as plot dividers。 None was immediately forthing。 The two threaded their way between the ranks of bean poles and waxed netting； the corrugated shanties； and zinc water tanks。 They walked in single file along a narrow track through a farrowed field of broccoli and one of early flowering sprouts； finally arriving at the wicket fence and pleasant ivy…hung trelliswork that stood before Omally's private plot。 John parked his bicycle in its favourite place； took up his daily pint； turned several keys in as many weighty locks； and within a few short minutes the two men lazed upon a pair of mandeered railway carriage seats； watching the kettle taking up the bubble on the Primus。
'There is a king's ransom； I do hear； to be had out of the antique trade at present；' said John matter…of…factly。
'Oh yes？' Pooley replied without enthusiasm。
'Certainly； the junk of yesterday is proving to be the ob…ja…dart of today and the nest…egg of tomorrow。' Omally rose to dump two tea bags into as many enamel mugs and top the fellows up with boiling water。 'A veritable king's ransom； ready for the taking。 A man could not go it alone in such a trade； he would need a partner； of course。'
'Of course。'
'A man he could trust。' John put much emphasis upon the word as he wrung out the tea bags and added the cream of the milk to his own mug and a splash of the rest to Jim's。 'Yes； he would definitely want a man he could rely on。'
'I am convinced of that；' said Jim； accepting his mug。 'A bit strong； isn't it？'
'Antique bedding is currently the vogue amongst the trendies of Kensington； I understand；' John continued。
'Oh those bodies。'
'Yes； the fashionable set do be weeping； wailing； and gnashing its expensively…capped teeth for the lack of it。'
Pooley blew on to his tea。 'Strange days；' said he。
John felt that he was obviously not getting his point across in quite the right way。 A more direct approach was necessary。 'Jim；' he said in a highly confidential tone。 'What would you say if I was to offer you a chance of a partnership in an enterprise which would involve you in absolutely no financial risk whatever？'
'I would say that there is always a first time for everything； I suppose。'
'What if I was to tell you that at this very moment I know of where there is an extremely valuable antique lying discarded and unwanted which is ours for the taking； what would you say then？'
Jim sipped at his tea。 'I would say to you then； Omally；' he said； without daring to look up； 'dig the bugger out yourself。'
Omally's eyebrows soared towards his flat cap。
Pooley simply pointed to an L…shaped tear in his own left trouser knee。 'I passed along your path not half an hour before you；' he said simply。
'Your lack of enterprise is a thing to inspire disgust。'
'He that diggeth a pit will fall into it。 Ecclesiasticus Chapter twenty…seven； verse twenty…six；' said Jim Pooley。 'I am not a religious man as you well know； but I feel that the Scriptures definitely have it sussed on this point。 A mendable try though。' Jim took out his cigarette packet from his top pocket and handed the Irishman a tailor…made。
'Thank you；' said Omally。
'Now； if you really have a wish to make a killing today …' John nodded enthusiastically； it was early yet and his brain was only just warming up to the daily challenge； '… I have seen something which has the potential to earn a man more pennies than a thousand buried bedframes。 Something which a man can only be expected to witness once in a lifetime。 And something of such vast financial potential that if a man was to see it and not take advantage of the experience； he should consider himself a soul lost for ever and beyond all hope。'
'Your words are pure music；' said John Omally。 'Play on； sweet friend； play on。'
As Neville the part…time barman drew the polished brass bolts on the saloon…bar door and stood in the opening； sniffing the air； the clatter of two pairs of hobnail boots and the grating of rear mudguard upon back wheel announced the approach of a brace of regulars。 One of these was a gentleman of Celtic extraction who had recently bee convinced that the future lay in perpetual motion and its application to the fifth gear of the mon bicycle。 Neville installed himself behind the bar counter and closed the hinged