Part 39 (1/2)
Nanny's infallible memory for personal details threw up a card. ”Peter, isn't it?” she said, relaxing. ”The one with the bad feet?”
”That's right, Mrs. Ogg.”
”The powder I give you is working, is it?”
”They're a lot better now, Mrs. Ogg-”
”So what's been happening?”
”Mr. Salzella caught the Ghost!”
”Really?”
Now that Nanny's eyes had managed to discern some order in the chaos, she could see a cl.u.s.ter of people in the middle of the floor, around the chandelier.
Salzella was sitting on the planking. His collar was torn and a sleeve had been ripped off his jacket, but he had a triumphant look in his eyes.
He waved something in the air.
It was white. It looked like a piece of a skull.
”It was Plinge!” he said. ”I tell you, it was Walter Plinge! Why are you all standing around? Get after him!”
”Walter?” said one of the men, doubtfully.
”Yes, Walter Walter!”
Another man hurried up, waving his lantern.
”I saw the Ghost heading up to the roof! And there was some big one-eyed b.a.s.t.a.r.d going after him like a scalded cat!”
That's wrong, thought Nanny. Something wrong here Something wrong here.
”To the roof!” shouted Salzella.
”Hadn't we better get the flaming torches first?”
”Flaming torches are not compulsory!”
”Pitchforks and scythes?”
”That's only for vampires!”
”How about just one one torch?” torch?”
”Get up there now! Understand?”
The curtains closed. There was a smattering of applause which was barely audible above the chatter from the audience.
The chorus turned to one another. ”Was that supposed to happen?”
Dust rained down. Stagehands were scampering across the gantries far above. Shouts echoed among the ropes and dusty backdrops. A stagehand ran across the stage, holding a flaming torch.
”Here, what's going on?” said a tenor.
”They've got the Ghost! He's heading for the roof! It's Walter Plinge Plinge!”
”What, Walter?”
”Our Walter Plinge?” Walter Plinge?”
”Yes!”
The stagehand ran on in a trail of sparks, leaving the yeast of rumor to ferment in the ready dough that was the chorus.
”Walter? Surely not!”
”Weeelll...he's a bit odd, isn't he...?”
”But only this morning he said to me, 'It's a nice day Mr. Sidney!' Just like that. Normal as anything. Well...normal for Walter...”
”As a matter of fact, it's always worried me, the way his eyes move as though they don't talk to each other-”
”And he's always around the place!”
”Yes, but he's the odd-job man-”
”No argument about that!”
”It's not Walter,” said Agnes.
They looked at her.
”That's who he said they're chasing, dear.”