He had been up half the night trying to work out a deal with his pagan deity over his ill…considered blood oath； but was still far from certain that the matter would be allowed to rest。 It was always a hairy business wheeling and dealing with the Elder Gods of Ancient Earth。
Neville drew the brass bolts and flung the door open to sniff the morning air。 It smelt far from promising。 He took a deep breath； scratched at his bony ribs； and gave the world a bit of first thing perusal。 It had all the makings of a beautiful day but Neville could not find any joy to be had in the twinkling sunlight and precocious bird song。
Like others who had gone before him； Neville the part…time barman was a very worried man。 The day he had been dreading had e to pass。 All over Brentford； dartsmen were awakening； flexing their sensitive fingers； and preparing themselves for the biggest night of the year。 The Swan's team had been growing surlier by the day。 Where was Norman？ they asked。 Why was he not practising with them？ Neville's excuses had been wearing thinner than the seat of his trousers。 If Norman did not turn up for the tournament the consequences did not bear thinking about。
Neville looked thoughtfully up the road towards the corner shop。 Perhaps he should just slip along now and smooth the matter over。 Throw himself on Norman's mercy if necessary； promise him anything。 Omally had said that the shopkeeper would be present； but was he ever to be trusted？
Neville hovered upon his slippered toes。 It would be but the work of a minute。 Norman would be numbering up his papers； he could say he just called in for a box of matches； exchange a few niceties； then leave with a casual 'Look forward to seeing you tonight。' Something like that。
Neville took a step forward。 At that moment； in the distance； a figure appeared from the shop doorway。 Neville's heart rose； it was telepathy surely。 The shopkeeper was ing to make his peace。 All his troubles were over。
Nicholas Roger Raffles Rathbone hoisted his paperbag into the sunlight。 Neville's heart fell。 'Bugger； bugger； bugger；' said the part…time barman； returning to the saloon…bar； and slamming the door behind him。
Parked close to the kerb in a side road opposite to the Swan； and lost for the most part in the shadow of one of the flatblocks； was a long sleek black automobile with high fins。 In the front seat of this gleaming motor car sat a man of average height； with a slightly tanned plexion and high cheek…bones。 He bore an uncanny resemblance to a young Jack Palance； as did his passenger； who lounged in a rear seat； smoking a green cheroot。 The two watched the paperboy as he passed within a few feet of their highly polished front bumper and vanished into one of the flatblocks。
No words passed between these two individuals； but the driver glanced a moment into his rear…view mirror； and his passenger acknowledged the reflected eyes with a knowing nod。
The day passed in an agonizing fashion。 Pooley and Omally took their lunchtime's pleasure in a neutral drinking house at Kew； where they sat huddled in an anonymous corner； speaking in hushed tones； bitterly bewailing the exorbitant prices； and casting suspicious glances at every opening of the saloon…bar door。
Norman closed up his shop at one and busied himself in his kitchenette。 What he did there was strictly his own business； and he had no intention of letting anything； no matter how alien； interfere with his afternoon's work。
In his sewage outlet pipe； Small Dave paced up and down。 His hair was bed forward across his forehead and his left hand was thrust into his shirt in a fashion much favoured by a diminutive French dictator of days gone by。 As he paced he muttered； and the more he muttered the more apparent it became that he was plotting something which was to cause great ill to any camel owners in Brentford。
At intervals he ceased his frenzied pacing and peered up and down the hideous pipe； as if expecting the arrival of some fellow conspirator。 None； however； made an appearance。
Professor Slobe was not to be found at his desk that afternoon。 He had pressing business elsewhere。 Whilst the sun shone down upon Brentford and the Brentonians went about whatever business they had； he was conversing earnestly with a pink…eyed man of apparent albino extraction； who had given up such doubtful pleasures to dedicate himself to the search for far greater truths。
Even now； the Professor sat in what was to all appearances a normal Brentford front room； but which was； in fact； situated more than a mile beneath Penge； which I understand is a very nice place； although I have never been there myself。
At a little after three； Neville drew the bolts upon the Swan's door and retired to his chambers。 He had been anaesthetizing himself with scotch since eleven and was now feeling less concerned about what was to happen during the ing evening。 He was； however； having a great deal of trouble keeping the world in focus。 He falteringly set his alarm clock for five and blissfully fell asleep upon his bed。
23
At long last the Memorial Library clock struck a meaningful seven…thirty。 The Swan was already a…buzz with conversation。 Pints were being pulled a…plenty and team members from the half…dozen pubs peting this year were already limbering up upon the row of dartboards arranged along the saloon…bar wall。 The closed sign had long been up upon the Star of Bombay Curry Garden； and within the Swan； Gammon； in the unlikely guise of an Eastern swami； engaged Archie Karachi in fervent debate。
In the back room of number seven Mafeking Avenue four men held a council of war。
'The thing must be performed with all expediency；' said Professor Slobe。 'We do not want Norman to miss the match。 I have； as the colonials would have it； big bucks riding upon this year's petition。'
The shopkeeper grinned。 'Have no fear； Professor；' said he。
'Omally； do you have your tools？' John patted at the bulging plumber's bag he had mandeered during the afternoon from a dozing council worker。 'Then it is off down the alley and fingers crossed。'
Without further ado； the four men passed out into a small back yard and down a dustbin…crowded alleyway towards the rear of the Star of Bombay Curry Garden。
Norman was but a moment at the lock before the four found themselves within the ghastly kitchenette； their noses assailed by the horrendous odours of stale vindaloo and mouldy madras。 Kali's face peered down from a garish wall…calendar； registering a look of some foreboding at the prospect of what was to be done to the premises of one of her followers。
'A moment please；' said Professor Slobe。 'We must be certain that all is secure。'
Within the Swan； Gammon suddenly interrupted his conversation； excused himself momentarily from Archie's pany； and thrust a handful of change into the Swan's jukebox。 As the thing roared into unstoppable action； Neville； who had taken great pains to arrange for the disabling of that particular piece of pub paraphernalia years before； and had never actually heard it play； marvelled at its sudden return to life。 The Professor had left nothing to chance。
'To the wall； John；' said Professor Slobe。
'Whereabouts？'
'Just there。'
'Fair enough。' Omally swung his seven…pound club hammer and the cold chisel penetrated the gaudy wallpaper。 The mouldy plasterwork fell away in great map chunks； and within a minute or two Omally had bared an area of brickwork roughly five feet in height and two in width。
'Better penetrate from the very centre；' the Professor advised。 'Take it easy and we will have a little check…about； in case the thing is booby…trapped。' Omally belted the chisel into the brickwork。
Within the Swan the jukebox was belting out a deafening selection of hits from the early sixties。 The sounds of demolition were swallowed up by the cacophony。
'Stop！' said the Professor suddenly。
'What is it？' The words came simultaneously from three death…white faces。
'Changing the record； that's all。 You can go on again now。'
Pooley was skulking near to the back door。 With every blow to the brickwork his nerve was taking a similar hammering。 His hand wavered above the door handle。
'If it goes up；