Part 23 (1/2)

Prince, however, seemed disinclined to do any seizing. He snuggled against the Murphy leg.

Corne-lius bent down and took the dog's head gently between his hands.

'He's very good with animals,' Tuppe whispered to b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.

'Seize him, Prince!' went the farmer.

Cornelius smelt the dog's breath. 'Prince hasn't eaten since yesterday afternoon,' he informed the now fuming farmer, 'and then it was on bad meat. Now that isn't right, is it?'

'I don't feed bad meat to my dogs.' The farmer took a step forward, but Cornelius ignored him, he had now turned his attention to the fellow who made the scarecrow remark.

The tall boy drew a deep breath through his nose. 'Still poisoning badgers?' he said.

And he said it quietly, because the dogs were no longer barking. They were sniffing silently about Prince, the leader of the pack. And Prince was licking the tall boy's hand.

'Badgers?' The fat fellow made a face of alarm. 'What do you mean?'

'You tell him,' Cornelius told the last of the three. 'You were with him. You supplied the poison.

Chemicals are really your thing, aren't they? Those concoctions you pump into your cattle will get you into trouble one day.'

Three mouths hung open. There was a bit of an unholy silence.

Then, 'What? What? What?' went the farmers three.

And, 'Seize him, Prince!' went up the cry once more.

But Prince remained disinclined.

'Perhaps Prince would prefer Winalot to the sheep's heads you feed him,' Cornelius suggested.

'Now just you see here ...

'No,' said Cornelius. 'You see here. I have no axe to grind with you people. Although I think what you do is obscene, it is actually none of my business. So, I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll forget all about informing the authorities...' he paused.

'If?' said the big fat farmer.

'If you apologize nicely and furnish us all with a bit of breakfast. How does that sound?'

Cornelius had never smelt pure hatred before and he didn't like the smell of it one little bit.

The farmers stared at Cornelius and Cornelius stared back at the farmers.

'And I think, as a gesture of good will, you might raise Tubby Thoroughgood's share of this year's take to fifty per cent,' was the tall boy's closing shot.

They all tucked into the wholesome fare the farmer's wife delivered.

'How did you know all that stuff?' b.o.l.l.o.c.ks asked. Cornelius tapped his aquiline proboscis. 'Good clean air and farmers who never change their jackets. Mind you, I took a chance on the chemicals. He stunk of cattle and hormones and stuff. I just put two and two together. Him being so fat and all.'

'Brilliant.' b.o.l.l.o.c.ks ladled fried eggs on to the tall boy's plate. 'If the kids hadn't been there, I would have punched their lights out.'

'The dogs would have had you.' Cornelius got stuck into his breakfast.

'How did you do that with the dogs? Calm them down and everything? That was brilliant also.'

'Dogs don't hate,' said Cornelius between mouth-fuls. 'Only people hate. People think they can train dogs to hate, but they can't, the animals don't understand the concept. Dogs do what their masters tell them, for love. Animals do respond to love. I just showed a little love, there was no trick there.'

'That's b.o.l.l.o.c.ks,' said b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.

'Of course it is,' Cornelius replied. 'Actually, I am in possession of a talisman of protection, that has been in my family for twenty-three generations.' He grinned through his toast.

'That's more like it.' b.o.l.l.o.c.ks loaded up a plate for himself 'I knew there was a logical explanation.

Brilliant. You're quite brilliant, Cornelius.'

'He's the Stuff of Epics,' said Tuppe.'I'd like to bear your children,' said Louise.

'Me too,' said Candy.

Cornelius grinned a bigger grin than ever. 'If I can square it with your husbands, I shall be honoured to oblige,' said he.

The sun, which had so recently risen upon Cornelius, Tuppe and the folk of the happy bus, rose also upon Inspectre Hovis.

The man from The Yard lay p.r.o.ne upon the garret floor, smelling strongly of ether and a dire c.o.c.ktail of illegal substances. The great detective, whose great-ness had yet to be proved to many minds, had just the two days left to solve The Crime of the Century. That crime of crimes, which, as yet, possessed the substance of a ghost's fart in a force-ten gale. Just two days left, before redundancy and goodbye, Mr Hovis. No knighthood, just goodbye.

The Inspectre dragged himself into the vertical plane. 'I will survive,' he told his wash-basin. 'I will triumph,' he informed his unmade bed. 'I will succeed!' he shouted to the four grey walls.

Thump! Thump! Thump! went the broom handle on the ceiling below.

Other people were waking up upon this fine and sunny morning and some in the strangest of places.

Mickey Minns opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. 'Where am I?' he asked.

His wife rolled over and smacked him right in the face. 'Get back in your b.l.o.o.d.y wardrobe,' she told him.

Anna Gotting woke up. She stumbled from her bed and bashed her fist on the wall. 'Keep it down in there!' she shouted.

Polly Gotting tried to keep it down. But 'taking tea with the parson' can get pretty loud.

'Sorry,' said Prince Charles. 'Was one making too much noise?'

'You might cut out the train whistles. But other than that, you're doing fine.'

'This is much more fun than polo,' said the prince.

'I wouldn't know about that,' Polly replied. 'I've never read any of Jilly Cooper's books.'

'Just like that. Just like that,' went the prince.