The Mind Readers by Margery Allingham

Author:Margery Allingham [Allingham, Margery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781567230123
Publisher: Yestermorrow Inc
Published: 2008-10-06T23:00:00+00:00

Repent! Repent! Repent!

BABYLON IS FALLEN Revelation 14:8

…and there was

no more sea!!!!! Revelation 21:1

END OF THE WORLD

The lower third of the sheet contained a drawing of the familiar mushroom cloud, to which a watery flavor had been given by the addition of blue, green and crimson splashes, some of which spelled out the word “Hydrogen” in ragged, liquid letters.

“It’s old Deeds,” Luke said in surprise. “Does he often come here?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of him—unless he’s that man who trudges round the West End. All the hydrogen in the oceans to ignite? What a stinker of an idea. Entirely impractical —I hope.”

“That’s one of the End of the World Society’s posters. They’re always dreaming up trouble!” The superintendent glanced round him. “There should be a satchel load of their throwaways somewhere. They’re a genuine society: three old girls and a couple of nutties with an office of a sort in Marylebone Lane.”

“Good heavens! Who supports them?”

“There’s a fund, of course: there always is in these cases. As a rule it’s a few pounds bequeathed for a specific purpose under a nineteenth-century will. The money is invested by law, brings in next to nothing, and the income is spent strictly as per the departed’s instructions, usually entailing a lot of homework for all concerned!”

“What does this lot do? Publicize the Book of Revelation?”

“That sort of thing.” He was rubbing his blue chin, trying to remember. “They pay Deeds as much as they’ve got, I think, but he still goes on staggering round the town whether he gets any money or not. He doesn’t beg, but I imagine people give him a little. The society supplies the posters, but he may touch them up himself; I don’t know. What would he be doing here?”

“Ah, Charles. I thought I heard your voice.” The words came from behind them as Avril put his head out of the study door. “Any sign of the boy yet?”

“He is known to be still in London, sir. He was seen and was all right this afternoon, but he’s not home yet.”

“I see. We must wait. Could you both come into the study a minute? I have a Mr. Deeds with me. Albert appears to have sent him.”

“Campion? But I’ve only just left him.”

“Yes, I think they met this morning in the street before Mr. Deeds started work. He spoke to Albert about a problem he has, and it was suggested then that he should drop in to see me on his way home. Unfortunately I don’t know if his difficulty is in your province or mine.”

It was an unexpected remark, for the old canon was usually very sure indeed where his own boundaries lay. However, when they saw his visitor the problem became apparent.

“Good” Deeds was a gaunt man, made to look even taller by the monk’s habit and cowl which he wore like a brown duffel coat over a very shabby blue suit. His shirt collar was frayed but formal, and his tie, which had

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