rr.eastofealing-第21部分

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heavily…cushioned　chair。　'My　thanks；'　said　Jim；　pocketing　it　away　in　his　throat。　The　sun　danced　in　upon　the　carpet　and　the　four　weary　men　lay　slumped　in　various　armchairs；　each　unwilling　to　be　the　first　to　break　the　tranquil　silence。　Pooley's　limbs　creaked　and　plained　to　themselves。　With　a　crackling　hand　he　poured　himself　another　drink。　Holmes　and　the　Professor　exchanged　occasional　guarded　glances；　and　the　old　man　appeared　at　times　obsessed　with　the　silver　pentacle　which　hung　upon　his　watch…chain。　Omally　drummed　his　fingers　soundlessly　upon　the　chair's　arm　and　waited　for　the　storm　to　break；　the　silence　was　rapidly　being　close　and　oppressive。
　Finally　Jim　could　stand　it　no　longer。　'All　right；'　he　said；　climbing　painfully　to　his　feet。　'What　is　going　on？　You　all　know　a　lot　more　of　this　than　me。'
　'I　don't；'　said　Omally；　'but　I　am　beginning　to　have　my　suspicions。'
　'So　what　is　it？'　Pooley　turned　to　the　Professor。　'I　have　just　miraculously　survived　an　attempt　upon　my　life　by　a　lunatic　chauffeur。　Such　should　be　the　cause　for　some　small　rejoicing　surely。　If　I　was　dead；　Omally　here　would　already　be　ordering　the　beer　for　the　wake。'
　Professor　Slobe　stepped　over　to　his　desk　and　took　up　the　day's　copy　of　the　Brentford　Mercury。　He　held　the　front　page　towards　Jim。　'Have　you　read　this？'
　Pooley　perused　the　encircled　article　with　little　interest　and　less　prehension。　'It's　about　puter　lines；'　said　he。　It　did　not　go　unnoticed　by　Holmes　and　the　Professor　that　his　right　hand　slid　unobtrusively　away　into　his　trouser　pocket。
　'It　is　much　more　than　that；'　said　the　old　man。　'It　is　an　essential　link　in　a　dark　chain　of　events　which；　unless　severed；　will　inevitably　engirdle　us　all。　To　our　ultimate　destruction。'
　'e　now；'　said　Jim。　'It　is　just　some　nonsense　about　banks　and　puters；　nothing　more　I　assure　you。'
　Professor　Slobe　shook　his　head；　'Sadly；　it　is　a　great　deal　more　than　that。　It　is　conclusive　proof　that　all　my　worst　fears　are　founded　and　even　now　the　prophecies　of　the　book　of　Revelation　are　ing　to　pass。'
　'You　jest；　surely？'
　Professor　Slobe　shook　his　head　once　more。　'Believe　in　what　I　say；'　said　he。　'We　are　facing　the　greatest　threat　mankind　has　faced　since　the　deluge。　We　are　facing　the　final　conflict。　The　apocalypse。　Even　now　the　curtains　are　closing。'
　'No。'　Jim　shook　his　head　violently　and　not　a　little　painfully。　'All　the　stuff　in　that　old　book　is　most　depressing。　Look　at　me　now。　I　experienced　a　slight　setback；　but　it　was　the　result　of　pure　spite　on　Bob's　part。　Just　because　I　won　and　he's　banged　up　in　hospital　a　bit　scorched。　I　am　battered　but　wealthy。　The　gods　are　smiling　upon　me。'
　'No；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'Money　will　not　buy　you　out　of　this　one；　especially　money　which　was　never　intended　for　your　use。'
　Pooley　scratched　at　his　head；　raising　a　fine　cloud　of　dust。　'You　wouldn't　care　to　enlarge　a　little　on　this　would　you　Professor？'　he　asked。　'You　see　such　news　catches　me　at　a　rather　inopportune　moment。　John　and　I　are　planning　a　bit　of　a　holiday。　Armageddon　might　interfere　with　our　traveller's　cheques。'
　Professor　Slobe　shook　his　head　once　more。　Jim　was　beginning　to　find　the　habit　mildly　annoying。　He　had　millions　of　pounds　knocking　about　in　the　bank　and　was　now　really　looking　forward　to　spending　them　before　they　caught　the　moth。　'Do　you　really　believe　yourself　to　be　one　favoured　of　the　gods？'
　Jim　nodded　noisily。　'At　this　time　definitely　yes。'
　'All　right　then；　I　will　make　this　short；　but　by　no　means　sweet。　We　will　speak　of　these　matters　again。　For　now　let　me　read　you　a　verse　or　two　from　the　Revelation；　possibly　it　will　convince　you；　possibly　not。'　Definitely　not；　thought　Jim　Pooley。　The　Professor　took　himself　over　to　his　desk　where　he　sat　before　the　large　and　outspread　family　Bible。　'I　will　spare　you　the　preliminaries　as　it　is　obvious　that　you　consider　your　time　valuable。　I　will　simply　give　you　the　relevant　part　and　allow　you　to　muse　upon　it。'
　'Thanks；'　said　Jim　doubtfully。
　'Revelation；　Chapter　Thirteen；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'This　speaks　of　the　beast　that　has　risen　from　the　Earth。　We　will　address　our　attention　to　verses　sixteen；　seventeen；　and　eighteen。'　He　spoke　the　final　number　with　a　deadly　intensity。
　'Go　ahead　then。'
　The　Professor　adjusted　his　ivory　pince…nez　and　read　aloud　from　the　open　book：
　'16。　And　he　causeth　all；　both　small　and　great；　rich　and　poor；　free　and　bond　to　receive　a　mark　in　their　right　hand　or　in　their　foreheads。
　17。　And　that　no　man　might　buy　or　sell　save　that　he　had　the　mark　or　the　name　of　the　beast　or　the　number　of　his　name。
　18。　Here　is　wisdom。　Let　he　that　hath　understanding　count　the　number　of　the　beast；　for　it　is　the　number　of　a　man；　and　his　number　is　six　hundred；　three　score　and　six。'
　The　Professor　gently　closed　the　Holy　Book　and　looked　up　towards　Jim　Pooley。　The　millionaire　sat　bolt　upright　in　his　chair。　His　eyes　were　unblinking　and　stared　ever　downward　towards　the　open　palm　of　his　right　hand；　where　the　puter　bar　code　was　indelibly　printed。　Eighteen　puter　lines。　Three　rows　of　six。　The　number　of　a　man；　six　hundred；　three　score　and　six。
　666
　The　number　of　the　Beast。　Things　were　suddenly　beginning　to　sink　in。
　'Oh　dear；'　said　John　Omally；　who　was　not　a　man　unacquainted　with　the　Scriptures。　'Why　did　I　just　know　you　were　going　to　choose　those　very　verses　to　be　today's　text？'
　
　15
　At　a　little　after　five　of　the　clock；　Pooley　and　Omally　left　Professor　Slobe's　house　behind　and　trudged　up　the　long　crescent　bound　for　the　Swan。　Although　the　old　man　had　served　a　fine　tea；　neither　could　raise　much　of　an　appetite；　finding　to　it　more　than　a　hint　of　the　Messianic　feast。　With　rumbling　guts　and　grumbling　tongues　they　mooched　along；　ignoring　the　gaily…coloured　bunting　which　fluttered　between　the　great　Horse　Chestnuts；　raised　in　preparation　for　the　forthing　Festival　of　Brentford。　Pooley　was　in　full　slouch；　his　chin　upon　his　chest；　and　his　hands　thrust　deeply　into　his　tweedy　trouser　pockets。　His　last　suit　was　in　exquisite　ruin　and　lacked　a　right　sleeve；　which　an　over…zealous　hospital　intern　who　watched　too　many　Aldo　Ray　films　had　cut　away　from　his　grazed　elbow　with　a　pair　of　surgical　scissors。　The　thought　that　he　could　buy　a　thousand　suits　and　all　of　them　of　the　hand…tailored；　Saville　Row　variety；　did　little　to　raise　his　spirits。　Jim's　right　thumbnail　worried　at　his　hidden　palm。
　Omally　worried　at　Marchant's　pitted　handlebars；　the　old　boy　seemed　to　have　developed　an　irritating　pull　to　the　left；　which　was　either　something　to　do　with　its　political　leanings　or　something　even　more　sinister。　'Give　it　a　rest；'　growled　John　as　the　thing　had　him　in　the　gutter　once　more。
　After　what　seemed　an　age　they　arrived　at　the　Swan's　weling　portal。　And　found　to　their　increased　horror　that　it　was　no　longer　weling。　A　large　plastic　sign　fastened　to　the　front　window　announced　to　the　world　that　THE　BUYING　OF　'ROUNDS'　is　HENCEFORTH　FORBIDDEN　BY　ORDEF　THE　BREWERY。　ANY　CUSTOMER　ATTEMPTING　TO　VIOLATE　THIS　PRINCIPLE　WILL　BE　BARRED　FOR　AN　INDEFINITE　PERIOD。
　'By　the　Saints；'　said　Omally；　turning　wobbly　at　the　knees。　'Would　you　look　at　that？'
　Pooley　curled　his　lip。　'This　is　too　much。　I　am　even　to　be　denied　spending　my　money　as　I　please。'　He　thrust　Omally　aside　and　entered　the　bar。
　The　Swan　was　empty　of　customers。　The　only　folk　present　were　a　pale　young　man　in　headphones　who　stood　behind　the　jump；　and　two　brewery　henchmen　in　drab…coloured　overalls；　who　appeared　to　be　screwing　a　gleaming　contrivance　of　advanced　design　on　to　the　bar　counter。
　'What　is　the　meaning　of　that　notice？'　Pooley　stormed　up　to　the　bar。
　The　strange　young　barman　watched　his　furious　approach　with　an　untroubled　expression。　His　head　moved　to　and　fro　to　a　rhythm　only　he　heard。
　'I　demand　an　explanation；'　foamed　the　red…faced　Jim。
　The　young　man　pushed　back　his　headphones。　'What　will　it　be　then；　sir？'　he　asked。
　Jim　raised　his　fist。　'That；　that　bloody　notice　in　the　window。　What's　your　game；　eh？'
　'Oh；　that。'　The　young　man　was　all　bland　posure。　'Rules　and　regulations；　what　can　we　do？'
　'We　can　tear　the　bloody　thing　down　for　a　kick　off。'
　The　young　man　waggled　a　finger。　'Naughty；　naughty；'　said　he。
　Jim　clenched　and　unclenched　his　fists。　'Has　the　world　gone　mad？'　he　asked。　'Has　the　brewery　lost　its　bloody　marble