The ape began to scratch itself with slow relish and its eyelids trembled.
‘So you would
There was a good deal of shuffling and coughing; and those who were able to do so without being seen began to retreat into the crowded body of the room.
‘Little children,’ he went on, the blade of his knife moving to and fro across his thumb, ‘pick up your colleague from the floor and learn from him to keep your hands off this pip-squeak of a boy.’
‘He is no pip-squeak,’ said Acreblade. ‘That is the youth I have been trailing. He escaped me. He crossed the wilderness. He has no passport. He is wanted. Come here, young man.’
There was a hush that spread all over the room.
‘What nonsense,’ said a deep voice at last. It was Juno. ‘He is my friend. As for the wilderness – good Heavens – you misconstrue the rags. He is in fancy dress.’
‘Move aside, madam. I have a warrant for his arrest as a vagrant; an alien; an undesirable.’
Then he moved forward, did this Acreblade, out of the crowd of guests, forward towards where Titus, Juno, Muzzlehatch and the ape waited silently.
‘Beautiful policeman,’ said Muzzlehatch. ‘You are exceeding your duty. This is a party – or it was – but you are making something vile out of it.’
Muzzlehatch worked his shoulders to and fro and shut his eyes.
‘Don’t you ever have a holiday from crime? Do you never pick up the world as a child picks up a crystal globe – a thing of many colours? Do you never love this ridiculous world of ours? The wicked and the good of it? The thieves and angels of it? The all of it? Throbbing, dear policeman, in your hand? And knowing how all this is inevitably so, and that without the dark of life you would be out on your ear? Yet see how you take it. Passports, visas, identification papers – does all this mean so much to your official mind that you must needs bring the filthy stink of it to a party? Open up the gates of your brain then, policeman dear, and let a small sprat through.’
‘He is my friend,’ said Juno again, in a voice as ripe and deep as some underwater grotto, some foliage of the sea-bed. ‘He is in fancy dress. He is as nothing to you. What was it you said? “Across the wilderness?” Oh ha ha ha ha ha,’ and Juno, having received a cue from Muzzlehatch, moved forward and in a moment had blocked Mr Acreblade’s vision, and as she did this she saw away to her left, their heads a little above the heads of the crowd, two men in helmets who appeared to slide rather than walk. To Juno they were merely two of the guests and meant nothing more, but when Muzzlehatch saw them he gripped Titus by the arm just above the elbow and made for the door, leaving behind him a channel among the guests like the channel left on a field of ripe corn where a file of children has followed its leader.
Inspector Acreblade was trying very hard to follow them but every time he turned or made a few steps his passage was blocked by the generous Juno, a lady with such a superb carriage and such noble proportions, that to push past her was out of the question.
‘Please allow me –’ he said. ‘I must follow them at once.’
‘But your tie, you cannot go about like that. Let me adjust it for you. No … no … don’t move. Th-ere we are … There … we … are …’
TWENTY-EIGHT
Meanwhile Titus and Muzzlehatch were turning to left and right at will, for the place was honeycombed with rooms and corridors.
Muzzlehatch, as he ran, a few feet ahead of Titus, looked like some kind of war-horse, with his great rough head thrown back, and his chest forward.
He did not look round to see whether Titus could keep up with his trampling pace. With his dark-red rudder of a nose pointing to the ceiling he galloped on with the small ape, now wide awake, clinging to his shoulder, its topaz- coloured eyes fixed upon Titus, a few feet behind. Every now and again it cried out only to cling the tighter to its master’s neck as though frightened of its own voice.
Covering the ground at speed Muzzlehatch retained a monumental self-assurance – almost a dignity. It was not mere flight. It was a thing in itself, as a dance must be, a dance of ritual.
‘Are you there?’ he suddenly muttered over his shoulder. ‘Eh? Are you there? Young Rag’n’bone! Fetch up alongside.’
‘I’m here,’ panted Titus. ‘But how much longer?’
Muzzlehatch took no notice but pranced around a corner to the left and then left again, and right, and left again, and then gradually slackening pace they ambled at last into a dimly lit hall surrounded by seven doors. Opening one at random the fugitives found themselves in an empty room.
TWENTY-NINE
Muzzlehatch and Titus stood still for a few moments until their eyes became adjusted to the darkness.
Then they saw, at the far end of the apartment, a dull grey rectangle that stood on end in the darkness. It was the night.
There were no stars and the moon was on the other side of the building. Somewhere far below they could hear the whisper of a plane as it took off. All at once it came into view, a slim, wingless thing, sliding through the night, seemingly unhurried, save that suddenly, where was it?
Titus and Muzzlehatch stood at the window and for a long while neither of them spoke. At last Titus turned to the dimly outlined shape of his companion.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said. ‘You seem out of place.’
‘God’s geese! You startled me,’ said Muzzlehatch, raising his hand as though to guard himself from attack. ‘I’d forgotten you were here. I was brooding, boy. Than which there is no richer pastime. It muffles one with rotting plumes. It gives forth sullen music. It is the smell of home.’
‘Home?’ said Titus.
‘Home,’ said Muzzlehatch. He took out a pipe from his pocket, and filled it with a great fistful of tobacco; lit it, drew at it; filled his lungs with acrid fumes, and exhaled them, while the bowl burned in the darkness like a
