Many Dimensions: A Novel by Charles Williams

Author:Charles Williams [Williams, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781504006644
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2015-02-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

THE APPEAL OF THE MAYOR OF RICH

Oliver Doncaster, having been suddenly thrown over both by Mr. Sheldrake and Lord Birlesmere, and finding himself in London with nobody wanting him, determined to return to his holiday village. As he walked to the station he found himself considerably irritated by the treatment he had received. He had been asked by the police to be good enough to attend this conference, and now he was flung into the street with the other less important people. No one had explained anything to him. He didn’t even know who half the people he had seen were. He had heard Lord Arglay’s name and recognized it; he had a vague recollection of having once read an extremely outspoken book by Sir Giles on the religious aspect of the marriage customs of a tribe of cannibals in Polynesia. But who Palliser was or the girl who had landed Palliser on the floor he had no idea, nor why she had done it. Why had she rushed round and flown at Sir Giles’s throat? “I almost wish,” he thought, “she’d flown at mine. Or Sheldrake’s. I should have liked to help her wring Sheldrake’s neck. I wonder if she hurt herself much. Anyhow it won’t matter if she’s got one of the Stones. Why the devil didn’t I take one? Why does no one tell me what it’s all about? Why did Sir Giles cut the Stone to bits? And why did that girl want to stop him?” As far as Rich he entertained himself with such questions.

Rich itself, when he arrived there, seemed to be similarly, but rather more angrily, engaged. There were groups in the streets and at the doors; there were dialogues and conversations proceeding everywhere. There were policemen—a number of policemen—moving as unnoticeably as possible through the slightly uncivil population. In fact it was, Doncaster thought, as much like the morning after the night before on a generous scale as need be. It occurred to him that he would go round and see Mrs. Ferguson’s sister on his way; it would be interesting to know whether she remained in her recovered health—if he could reach her, of course, because as he wandered towards her street the groups seemed, in spite of the continually pacing police, to be larger and more numerous. The street itself however was passable, though not much more, and he had just turned into it, when he was startled into a pause by a high shrill voice some distance off which called over the street, “Where’s the Stone? Take me to the Stone.”

Oliver looked at the people near him. One man shook his head placidly and said, “Ah there he is again.” But the rest were listening, he thought, almost sullenly, and one or two muttered something, and another gave a short laugh. Conversations ceased; a policeman, wandering by, caught Oliver’s eye, and seemed to meet it dubiously as if he were not quite certain what to do.

“Where’s the Stone?” the voice shrilled again.

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