ideology.
'Shits in shits' clothing,' murmured Professor Maerlis, gazing in awe at the human excreta that stumbled about the lawn.
'Hold it there,' shouted the head of the Anti-Terrorist Squad as his men aimed revolvers at them, 'we've got you covered.'
'Rather an unnecessary injunction if you ask me,' said Dr Felden. 'I've heard of bullshit baffling brains but I've never realized the destabilizing potential of untreated sewage before.'
But the two terrorists were past caring about the destruction of pseudo-democratic fascism. Their concern was purely personal. They rolled on the ground in a frantic attempt to rid themselves of the filth while above them Gudrun Schautz looked down with an idiot smile.
As Baggish and Chinanda were dragged to their feet by reluctant policemen Wilt entered the house. He passed through the devastated kitchen and stepped over old Mrs de Frackas and climbed the stairs. On the landing he hesitated.
'Eva,' he called, 'it's me, Henry. It's all right. The children are safe. The terrorists are under arrest. Now don't get up from that chair. I'm coming up.'
'I warn you if this is some sort of trick I won't be responsible for what happens,' shouted Eva.
Wilt smiled to himself happily. That was the old Eva talking in defiance of all logic. He went up to the attic and stood in the doorway looking at her with open admiration. There was nothing silly about Eva now. Sitting naked and unashamed she possessed a strength he would never have.
'Darling,' he began incautiously before stopping. Eva was studying him with frank disgust.
'Don't you 'darling' me, Henry Wilt,' she said. 'And how did you get in that filthy state?'
Wilt looked down at his torso. Now that he came to examine it he was in a filthy state. A piece of celery poked rather ambiguously from Mrs de Frackas' shawl.
'Well, as a matter of fact, I was in the compost heap with the children
'With the children?' shouted Eva furiously. 'In the compost heap?'
And before Wilt could explain she had risen from the chair. As it shot across the room Wilt hurled himself at the rope, clung to it, was slammed against the opposite wall and finally managed to wedge himself behind a wardrobe.
'For Christ's sake, help me pull her up,' he yelled, 'you can't let the bitch hang.'
Eva put her hands on her hips. 'That's your problem. I'm not doing anything to her. You're holding the rope.'
'Only just. And I suppose you're going to tell me that if I really love you I'll let go. Well, let me tell you...'
'Don't bother,' shouted Eva. 'I heard you in bed with her. I know what you got up to.'
'Up to?' yelled Wilt. 'The only way I got anything up was by pretending she was you. I know it seems unlikely...'
'Henry Wilt, if you think I'm going to stand here and let you insult me...'
I'm not insulting you. I'm paying you the biggest bloody compliment you've ever received. Without you I don't know what I would have done. And now for goodness sake '
'I know what you did without me,' shouted Eva, 'you made love to that horrible woman...'
'Love?' yelled Wilt. 'That wasn't love. That was war. The bitch battened on to me like a sex-starved barnacle and...' But it was too late to explain. The wardrobe was shifting and the next moment Wilt, still gripping the rope, rose slowly into the air and moved toward the hook. Behind him came the chair and presently he was crouched up against the ceiling with his head twisted at a curious angle. Eva looked up at him uncertainly. For a second she hesitated, but she
