She tried to swallow away the lump in her throat. “How about if we shared it,” she finally managed to croak.
It was very old chocolate. It had melted and reset a good few times. It had traveled a long way in a rat’s pack. But still . . . it could have tasted of soap and it wouldn’t have mattered. It was still the finest chocolate they were ever likely to eat.
A Magh’ paused at the doorway. It looked at them and then went on, hastily. And then the one next came.
“It worked!” said Chip in tones of amazement. “They didn’t just kill us.”
Chapter 41: A walk in the park.
Major Fitzhugh had underestimated the determination of General Cartup-Kreutzler. The general had wasted precious time trying to find the telephone, at last finding the downstairs instrument which didn’t work. . . . In the process of finding it, there had been this big vase. . . . The general knew he was going to have to go on the offensive with his wife for breaking that. But it was her own fault for putting it there.
The general realized he had underestimated his wife’s paranoia about their little country place being burgled. Theft was an increasing problem on Harmony And Reason, because of unruly Vats. The general was among those calling for harsher penalties. His wife Maria’s contribution to the war on crime had been to spare no expense making their houses as thief-proof as possible. It hadn’t stopped a burglary three weeks before. Among the things taken had been all the clothing in the house. So, Maria had reinforced her precautions with the finest building materials available. . . .
The general rubbed his shoulder. He thought it might be broken. The front door still seemed remarkably intact.
“Are you all right, Stallion?” enquired Daisy from the darkness.
The general bit back an angry retort. He didn’t have any trousers. A dark blue towel was the best he could do. His tunic top was soaked with whiskey, and his shoulder was damned sore. “Yes,” he said in a grumpy voice that indicated the opposite. “And I’m going to crucify Fitzhugh. I’ll try a chair.”
“I’ll get you one, Kreutzy-pie,” she said sympathetically.
Minutes later he stood with the smashed remains of the chair, in front of a still obdurate door. A horrible thought trickled through his mind as he felt the velvety remains. “Where did you get this chair?” he choked.
“From the dining room. Do you want another one?”
In darkness of the hall, the general felt his face go white. Maria was going to kill him. He dropped the remains of the priceless Queen Anne chair as if it was burning hot. It was a matched set of three now. . . .
* * *
A marble statue of Cupid finally proved harder than the door. The lock, however, was of excellent quality. The general had to smash panels out of the door itself to get out. Then he had to get Daisy through in her tight skirt and high heels. Attempting to suck splinters out of his hand, he went down to his staff car. At least the guards wouldn’t be able to see that he didn’t have any trousers on while he was driving.
When he saw the open hood, he nearly returned to the house in despair. But he was determined. “Come on. We’ll have to walk. And I’m going to skin Fitzhugh alive!”
“But Kreutzy, we can’t walk. . . .”
“We’ve only got to walk to the gate. I’ll get a car sent,” he snapped.
“But you haven’t any trousers!” she wailed.
He gritted his teeth. “I’ll put that onto Major Fitzhugh’s account, too. Come on. It’s only about half a mile.”
In his car, the general had never noticed the gentle gradient in the long curve of the driveway. It had been twenty years since he’d last walked half a mile. And his highly polished shoes were less than two days old.
Daisy was in a similar state. “My heels are killing me,” she whined. “Isn’t there a shorter way?”
He snapped his fingers. “You’re right! We’ll cut across the parkland. That’ll be half the distance. It’s all grass. I can walk barefoot.”