I wanted to ask the professor if these wooden swords were the sum total of his two hours of labour, but I was already in his bad books and said nothing. In any case, he seemed inordinately proud of the things and I did not want to bring him low. Roberta, on the other hand, had no such qualms.
"What have you there, father?" she asked him. "Do not tell me those sticks are fuel for the boiler, for I do not require any more at this moment."
"Sticks?" demanded the professor, looking most annoyed. He brandished one of the wooden swords, and light glinted off the engraved lettering. I say engraved, but to be honest it was more a series of wayward scratchings. "These are no sticks! They are weapons carefully constructed to match the specifications in ancient tomes, and they feature additions developed by my own hand."
Roberta eyed the so-called weapon critically. "Let us hope the enemy does not possess a box of matches."
"Would you cease harping on the wooden construction for just one moment?" growled the professor. "It is not the blades, but the runes that appear therein which give these weapons their power. They will keep at bay the most powerful spirits!"
I looked anew at the weapons, seeing them in a different light. It appeared they were not for cutting or thrusting, but for brandishing in the face of a ghostly enemy, and with that in mind I deduced they would indeed prove useful. Assuming they were not brandished too vigorously, of course.
"Is that the new vessel I see?" demanded the professor. He laid the sword with the others, carefully, and crossed to the workbench to inspect Roberta's handiwork. "I would have strengthened the cage a little more, were I in charge of the construction. And these joints in the corners… they seem rough and unfinished."
I felt this criticism was unwarranted, as his handiwork could have benefited from a great deal of strengthening and finishing. But again, I left the rebuttal to Roberta.
"It will suffice," she said.
"Then we are ready." The professor took a deep breath and looked towards the stairs. "Out there, we face the greatest challenge of our lives," he said, in the manner of an orator giving a performance. "We must face this evil and defeat it, for if we fail the entire world may fall. We may suffer grievous wounds in the process, and the inhabitants of this fair city may never know the sacrifices we made, but in the end we shall hold our heads high and know that we did our duty for queen and country!"
"Bravo!" I cried, moved by the professor's stirring speech.
Roberta, meanwhile, turned to me with one eyebrow raised. Then she collected the large trap and strode towards the stairs. Deflated, the professor gathered up the wooden swords while I placed the metal discs I had fashioned into a leather bag, pulling the drawstring tight. As I did so, the heavy bag slipped from my fingers, bursting on the floor and scattering discs to all corners of the room.
The professor watched me scurrying around collecting the discs, and as I passed close by he shook his head slowly. "May my end be quick and painless," he murmured.
– — Ω — –
It was now the early hours of the morning, and there was little chance of our securing a cab. Each of us held one of the professor's long wooden swords, the strange lettering gleaming in the darkness, and so it was probably just as well. In addition, the professor carried his forked weapon from a leather belt, the tip sparking from time to time. As for myself, I bore the heavier of the two knapsacks, the strap chafing my shoulder despite the thickness of my coat.
To increase our misery a light drizzle began to fall, the moisture quickly soaking into our clothes. We must have made for a miserable sight as we strode the city streets and byways, and our mood was not improved by the thought of the danger we faced.
Finally, after an interminable walk, we turned into the road with the underground station. Here we stopped, for two shadowy figures were at the metal gates, one of them bent to inspect the lock. My heart thudded, for at first I believed them to be our enemies, Lord Snetton and Edgar, but then I saw the uniforms. "It's the police!" I whispered. "They have seen the open padlock!"
"Wait here," murmured the professor. Before we could object, he handed Roberta his wooden sword and approached the policemen. I thought he intended to disarm them with a few well-chosen words, or perhaps draw them away from the gate so that Roberta and I might enter.
Instead, as they turned to look at him, the professor drew the pronged weapon and pressed it to each policeman's chest in turn. They shook and quivered briefly, with sparks running up and down their bodies, and then they fell to the ground to lie inert.
Roberta and I stared at each other, then ran towards the gate. The professor was crouched over the unconscious policemen, and as we approached I heard him muttering to the nearest. "Eat all my sausages, would
