The Mind Readers (8 page)

‘Well, Mr Pellett was in a bate and he thought:
'Sucks to you, Allie. It's not what you think
! Then he thought of what it really was and I received the flash bright and clear.'

‘Of course!' The Canon exclaimed easily. ‘That's what we used to call telepathy. Some people do have the gift to a marked degree at various times in their lives. I don't think you should cultivate it, Sam. It's not very healthy and you can easily begin to fancy you're not quite like anybody else. You must feed him on suet pudding, Helena. That'll cure him.' It occurred to him that he was being a little harsh and he smiled at the child who was eyeing him with a very odd expression. ‘Tell me this,' he said. ‘Did you get your “flash” from Mr Pellett in words or pictures?'

‘The ‘sucks to you Allie! was a “feel” of course.' Sam had been questioned like this before. ‘And the description of the book was a picture—Romans pretending to fight on a bridge.'

‘
“The good sword stood a hand's breadth out behind the Tuscan's head”
' The Canon was astonished. ‘I should hardly call that pretending!'

‘I didn't know.' The little boy was embarrassed. ‘I'm not old enough to go into that form yet. I've not read that book. Mr Pellett believed they were pretending.'

‘Mr Pellett sounds as if he might not envisage that sort of fighting very clearly, don't you think?' Mr Campion ventured. ‘That's extraordinarily interesting, Sam, and it goes a long way to explain the mystery. You told Edward about the Romans on the Bridge I suppose, and he recognised
The Lays
? I see.'

Charley Luke, who was fidgeting, stepped back into the circle.

‘What about you?' he enquired, looking down at Edward. ‘Can you pick up thought messages like this, too? It was you who realised there was an attempted kidnapping this morning, and you appealed to the bobbie. How do you do it? Train yourselves?'

Edward considered him anxiously.

‘It Lakes training,' he agreed at last. ‘I'm not very good at it.'

‘Who's teaching you? A master, perhaps?' The disapproving gleam was already alight in the black eyes.

‘Good Heavens, no!' Edward was contemptuous. ‘Masters would be useless!'

‘Too old?'

‘Well, I should think so!'

The Superintendent had a new idea.

‘What am I thinking now?' he demanded and composed his features as he concentrated.

‘I don't know. It doesn't work like that. The last message I got from you was when you asked me if we trained. You felt angry. You thought I was lying.'

‘He thought the whole thing was lying,' Sam chimed in.

A wave of dusky colour rose up over the Superintendent's face and both children spoke together.

‘That's too much feel. Now there's no flash at all.'

‘What
is
all this? I don't like it.' Old Avril was frowning. ‘What have you children got hold of? Edward, come here. Now my boy, just the truth, if you please! Explain. Make it quite clear to us all.'

Edward capitulated wearily. ‘Very well, Uncle Hubert,' he said, ‘but I should think it might be very dangerous to show it to you, considering the people who seem to be after it.' He was pulling off his muffler as he spoke and they stared at him as his skinny neck became revealed. His shirt was open and a piece of woollen undervest appeared across the bird ribs high on his chest. At the side of his throat there was a piece of elasticised plaster. He prised it off cautiously and when the unattractive scrap of sticky fabric lay in his hand he held it out to them. In its centre, embedded in the white adhesive, was a small silvery cylinder, about half an inch long.

Amanda bent over it. ‘What on earth is it? It looks like some peculiar kind of transistor valve.'

‘Yes,' said Edward and added casually, ‘Sam can wear his under his arm where there's not so much danger of it being seen but I can't make mine work unless it's on the jugular itself, and so I have to wear my scarf.' He glanced up at the Canon reproachfully. ‘You didn't really think we were being witchy, did you? We do come of scientific families. We don't go in for magic!'

‘What is it? What do you call it?' Luke was inclined to splutter.

‘The kids call it an “iggy-tube”,' Edward could not keep the pride out of his voice. ‘That's because of the initials. When it gets going properly I should like to call it
“Longfox's Instant Gen”
if nobody minds, in memory of my father; but of course much of the credit is Sam's. He did some of the worst of the research and now, while he's young, no one can operate it better.'

‘
I'D MUCH RATHER
leave the boys to the Canon. I certainly don't want to upset Helena.' Luke spoke fervently as he followed Mr Campion into the deserted study.

He was still young, a tall swarthy man, very much the classic cockney, with a dark, shrewd face and narrow eyes whose brows were peaked like gothic gables. A fine policeman, naturally even-tempered, his courage not merely physical and his brains as good as they came. His rise to authority had been swift but was almost unbegrudged and the most extraordinary thing about him was the tremendous nervous force which emanated from him, making him many friends and just a few jumpy enemies.

The untidy room was warm and homely, the neatest thing in it, the evening paper still folded, lying where Mrs Talisman had put it on the edge of the desk.

From force of habit Luke bent over to glance at the Stop Press where there was an announcement about a famous murderer's appeal.

‘No reprieve for Toller,' he said softly. ‘I can't say I'm surprised. I don't like the idea of him loose again.'

Mr Campion nodded absently. ‘How's your Sergeant?'

‘He'll live but he'll never walk. The watchman died, so did the constable; only twenty-three. Toller is an evil chap. He hates me too, he'll go to his grave cursing me because I caught him.'

He straightened his back and looked across the room at his friend. He had dismissed the subject and returned to the new and breath-taking problem.

‘Well?' he enquired.

‘I simply don't believe it,' said the thin man slowly. ‘It can't be true.'

‘Couldn't it?' There was a streak of naïveté in Luke. It did not appear in the ordinary way but when utterly out of his depth he was, occasionally, prepared to see wonders.

‘I can't credit it,' Mr Campion insisted. ‘Why hasn't it happened before? People have been trying to do this since civilisation began.'

The Superintendent was not impressed. ‘They said that about wireless,' he objected. ‘“They'll be catching crooks with it next!” That's what my father said when he first heard of Radio. This is a top secret I grant you. There's no doubt about that.' He paused and his sharp eyes were inquisitive. ‘I thought that might have been what Security told you when they sent for you this afternoon?'

The thin man did not answer directly. Instead he said slowly, ‘If it's genuine it's sensational. What is that thing exactly and where did the children get not only one but two?'

‘We'll soon know.' Luke was amused by him. ‘They'll come across. Sam must have pinched it from his father's lab, or workshop or whatever they have down there at Godleys. . . .'

‘And nobody missed it? It's not possible. They've had it for months.'

‘You never know what the co-operation is like in that sort of a place,' Luke said darkly. ‘By all I hear, these backroom boffins can be very human for all their brains. . . .'

‘I know, but this is working. It could be demonstrated.'

‘Wait a minute.' The Superintendent put up his hand. ‘Wait. Is it working? What did Edward keep saying about people being too old to understand it? How old is he, nine?'

‘Over eleven.'

‘Is he? He's very small. He thinks he's past it. I wonder if . . . ?'

He was silenced by the arrival of the old Canon who came in slowly, carrying a saucer. He put it down on the desk and looked at them questioningly.

‘I carried these in like this because I don't think they ought to be dropped. But on the other hand I really don't think the boys should have them, do you? I know there are many remarkable machines in these days but these seem to me to be so
unsuitable
—bad manners, if nothing worse.'

The two grubby cylinders, each in its bed of sticky tape, lay on the flowered porcelain looking unattractive. The younger man regarded them dubiously and the Canon sat down in the visitor's chair.

‘I couldn't persuade the boys to tell me where they got them,' he said cheerfully. ‘I don't think little Sam knew and Edward was very tense and quite obstinate. The only thing he insisted was that they were not stolen. “They are truly ours” he said and I believed him. I don't think they could have made them, do you?'

Luke, who was investigating the plain silver tubes, looked up. ‘Not in a million years!'

‘I thought not. So someone has given them to them. I didn't press them. I brought these in here for safety and sent them up to help the girls with the rooms. We shall get on much better in the morning when they've all settled. I wondered if Edward could be under some sort of an allegiance.'

‘Who to?' Luke was horrified, his mind leaping to security.

‘Oh, some friend, don't you know. Bound by some boyish oath.' It was evident that Avril saw nothing very amazing in the whole business. A great many remarkable devices had appeared in his lifetime. ‘He was very reluctant to trust me with these,' he went on. ‘I think he feels they are beyond me and fears I might break them or give them to someone unsuitable. They don't look very serviceable, do they? I've agreed to keep them under lock and key.'

‘So you shall, sir. In ten minutes.' Luke was taking off his jacket and tie. ‘On the jugular, Campion, if you please. Just about
there,
I should say.' He exposed a splendid sinewy throat and sat down at the desk.

The Canon settled down to watch and Mr Campion held out the saucer. ‘It's merciful they decided on strapping and not insertion,' he remarked, looking at the mighty vein. ‘Any preference?'

‘I'll have Sam's; he's the best they said. Now; I'll have a minute by the clock. I'll concentrate like hell. You time me, Campion, and send me a message. Something unlikely. Right? Off we go.'

He took up one of the patches and slapped it into place and then, closing his eyes, sat back stiff and frowning. It seemed a very long wait. Luke remained perfectly still but he was certainly trying; the room vibrated with his effort. Finally Mr Campion touched him on the shoulder and he relaxed.

‘Not a whisper!' His eyes flickered open and he was laughing. ‘I'm afraid . . .' The words faded on his lips and an expression of amazement appeared in his widening eyes. The next few seconds were never forgotten by the men who watched him. He had an expressive face and they were able to see some of the agony which went on behind it. His initial surprise was followed by bewilderment, giving place to anger and then to fear as one emotion after another passed over his mask like the shadows of driving leaves flying across the sky. They saw him struggle to get hold of himself. The sweat came out on his forehead and, as his effort increased and his knuckles grew white on the arm of the chair, it ran down the flanks of his cheeks and on to his neck. Gradually his great strength of character emerged and suddenly, after less than thirty seconds, he put up his hand and tore the plaster away.

‘Strewth!' he said.

‘What happened?' Mr Campion was looking at him in alarm and the old Canon bent forward anxiously.

The Superintendent shook his head as if he had been under water.

‘How long?' he demanded huskily. ‘Half an hour? I fainted in the end, did I?'

‘The whole thing took less than half a minute.' Mr Campion was too surprised to be tactful.

‘Getaway!' Luke was silent for a moment and then got up and stretched himself cautiously. ‘I thought I was having a stroke,' he said seriously. ‘I'd made up my mind there was nothing there you see, and I relaxed and it got me. . . .'

‘
What
did?'

‘I don't know, quite.' He mopped his face and neck. ‘It was like going barmy, I suppose. I was thinking at tremendous speed, one thought chasing out the next before it had begun. Nothing was related. I was feeling everything very strongly but not for long. Then I got the wind up because I thought I was dying and I tried to get out of the chaos—
It was a brain storm
!' The idea seemed to comfort him. ‘That's about it. What do you know! I've had a blessed brain storm!'

‘Which cleared up miraculously the moment you pulled this bit of filth off your neck?' Mr Campion bent to retrieve the scrap of plaster where it lay on the carpet.

Luke turned away from it. ‘Put it back with the other,' he said firmly. ‘The—er—the negative stuff I got was quite incredible. Not at all suitable here.' He looked at Avril apologetically. ‘I'd have sworn I hadn't got it in me!' His glance fell on the newspaper before him. ‘It was more in
his
class,' he added, nodding at it. ‘That's about the quality. If Toller had suddenly got into my skin . . . ?' He broke off and his brows rose. ‘Strewth!' he said again. ‘He's only just heard his bad news. He could well be thinking of me! But it wasn't only him. There was yards of stuff, hundreds of people. What about you, Campion? Were you trying to send me something? I was aware of you. You were terribly embarrassed about Prune.'

Mr Campion gaped at him, a touch of colour appearing in his thin cheeks. Luke's love affair and the short-lived marriage which had left him a widower with a small daughter was the one and only subject upon which the two friends had never achieved complete understanding. Today, at the beginning of the experiment Mr Campion had first concentrated upon a village inn they both knew, and had then remembered that at the time when the Superintendent had known it best, he had been courting the girl whom all his friends had thought to be the most unsuitable woman in the world for him. A wave of irritation at himself for choosing such an unfortunate subject had passed over Campion. Now, it seemed, this was the only part of his thought which had reached the other man.