‘And from that one must go further. For, since they do not come under the prohibition of murder, what is our attitude to them to be? At present, we are conceding them all the privileges of the true homo sapiens. Are we right to do this? Since they are another species, are we not fully entitled – indeed, have we not perhaps a duty? – to fight them in order to protect our own species? After all, if we were to discover dangerous wild animals in our midst our duty would be clear. I don’t know … I am, as I said, in a morass …’
‘You are, my dear fellow, you are indeed,’ agreed Zellaby. ‘Only a few minutes ago you were telling me, with some heat, that the Children had murdered both the Pawle boys. Taking that in conjunction with your later proposition, it would appear that if they kill us it is murder, but if we were to kill them it would be something else. One cannot help feeling that a jurist, lay or ecclesiastical, would find such a proposition ethically unsatisfactory.
‘Nor do I altogether follow your argument concerning the “likeness”. If your God is a purely terrestrial God, you are no doubt right – for in spite of one’s opposition to the idea it can no longer be denied that the Children have in some way been introduced among us from “outside”; there is nowhere else they can have come from. But, as I understand it, your God is a universal God; He is God on all suns and all planets. Surely, then, He must have universal form? Would it not be a staggering vanity to imagine that He can manifest Himself only in the form that is appropriate to this particular, not very important planet?
‘Our two approaches to such a problem are bound to differ greatly, but -‘
He broke off at the sound of raised voices in the hall outside, and looked questioningly at his wife. Before either could move, however, the door was abruptly thrust open, and Mrs Brant appeared on the threshold. With a perfunctory ‘Scuse me’ to the Zellabys, she made for Mr Leebody, and grasped his sleeve.
‘Oh, sir. You must come quick,’ she told him breathlessly.
‘My dear Mrs Brant -‘ he began.
‘You must come, sir,’ she repeated. ‘They’re all going up to The Grange. They’re going to burn it down. You must come and stop them.’
Mr Leebody stared at her while she continued to pull at his sleeve.
‘They’re starting now,’ she said desperately. ‘You can stop them, Vicar. You must. They want to burn the Children. Oh, hurry. Please. Please hurry!’
Mr Leebody got up. He turned to Angela Zellaby.
‘I’m sorry. I think I’d better -‘ he began, but his apology was cut short by Mrs Brant’s tugging.
‘Has anyone told the police?’ Zellaby inquired.
‘Yes – no. I don’t know. They couldn’t get here in time. Oh, Vicar, please hurry!’ said Mrs Brant, dragging him forcibly through the doorway.
The four of us were left looking at one another. Angela crossed the room swiftly, and closed the door.
‘I’d better go and back him up, I think,’ said Bernard.
‘We might be able to help,’ agreed Zellaby, turning, and I moved to join them.
Angela was standing resolutely with her back to the door.
‘No!’ she said, decisively. ‘If you want to do something useful, call the police.’
‘You could do that, my dear, while we go and -‘
‘Gordon,’ she said, in a severe voice, as if reprimanding a child. ‘Stop and think. Colonel Westcott, you would do more harm than good. You are identified with the Children’s interest.’
We all stood in front of her surprised, and a little sheepish.
‘What are you afraid of, Angela?’ Zellaby asked.
‘I don’t know. How can I possibly tell? – Except that the Colonel might be lynched.’
‘But it will be important,’ protested Zellaby. ‘We know what the Children can do with individuals, I want to see how they handle a crowd. If they run true to form they’ll only have to will the whole crowd to turn round and go away. It will be most interesting to see whether -‘
‘Nonsense,’ said Angela flatly, and with a firmness which made Zellaby blink. ‘That is not their “form”, and you know it. If it were, they’d simply have made Jim Pawle stop his car; and they’d have made David Pawle fire his second barrel into the air. But they didn’t. They’re never content with repulsing – they always counter-attack.’
Zellaby blinked again.
‘You’re right, Angela,’ he said, in surprise. ‘I never thought of that. The reprisal is always too drastic for the occasion.’
‘It is. And however they handle a crowd, I don’t want you handled with it. Nor you, Colonel,’ she added, to Bernard. ‘You’re going to be needed to get us out of the trouble you’ve helped to cause. I’m glad you’re here – at least there’s someone on the spot who will be listened to.’
‘I might observe – from a distance, perhaps,’ I suggested meekly.
‘If you’ve any sense you’ll stay here out of harm’s way,’ Angela replied bluntly, and turned again to her husband. ‘Gordon, we’re wasting time. Will you ring up Trayne, and see whether anyone has told the police there, and ask for ambulances as well.’
‘Ambulances! Isn’t that a bit – er – premature?’ Zellaby protested.
‘You introduced this “true to form” consideration – but you don’t seem to have considered it,’ Angela replied. ‘I have. I say ambulances, and if you don’t, I will.’
Zellaby, with rather the air of a small boy subdued, picked up the telephone. To me he remarked:
‘We don’t even know – I mean, we’ve only Mrs Brant’s word for any of it …’
‘As I recall Mrs Brant, she was one of the reliable pillars,’ I said.
‘That’s true,’ he admitted. ‘Well, I’d better risk it.’
When he had finished he returned the telephone thoughtfully to the rest, and regarded it for a moment. He decided to make one more attempt.
‘Angela, my dear, don’t you think that if one were to keep at a discreet distance …? After all, I am one of the people the Children trust, they’re my friends, and -‘
But Angela cut him short, with unweakened decision.
‘Gordon, it’s no good trying to get round me with that nonsense. You’re just inquisitive. You know perfectly well that the Children have no friends.’
CHAPTER 18
Interview With a Child
THE Chief Constable of Winshire looked in at Kyle Manor the next morning, just at the right time for a glass of Madeira and a biscuit.
‘Sorry to trouble you over this affair, Zellaby. Ghastly business – perfectly horrible. Can’t make any sense of it. Nobody in your village quite on target, seems to me. Thought you might be able to put up a picture a fellow can understand.’
Angela leant forward.
‘What are the real figures, Sir John? We’ve heard nothing officially yet.’
‘Bad, I’m afraid.’ He shook his head. ‘One woman and three men dead. Eight men and five women in hospital. Two of the men and one woman in a pretty bad way. Several men who aren’t in hospital look as if they ought to be. Regular riot by all accounts – everybody fighting everybody else. But why? That’s what I can’t get at. No sense out of anybody.’ He turned back to Zellaby. ‘Seeing that you called the police, and told them there was going to be trouble, it’d help us to know what put you on to it.’
‘Well,’ Zellaby began cautiously, ‘it’s a curious situation -‘
His wife cut him short by breaking in:
‘It was Mrs Brant, the blacksmith’s wife,’ she said, and went on to describe the vicar’s departure. ‘I’m sure Mr Leebody will be able to tell you more than we can. He was there, you see; we weren’t.’
‘He was there all right, and got home somehow, but now he’s in Trayne hospital,’ said the Chief Constable.
‘Oh, poor Mr Leebody. Is he badly hurt?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know. The doctor there tells me he’s not to be disturbed for a bit. Now.’ He turned back to Zellaby once more, ‘you told my people that a crowd was marching on The Grange with the intention of setting fire to it. What was your source of information?’
Zellaby looked surprised.
‘Why, Mrs Brant. My wife just told you.’
‘Is that all! You didn’t go out to see for yourself what was going on?’
‘Er – no,’ Zellaby admitted.
‘You mean that, on the unsupported word of a woman in a semi-hysterical condition, you called out the police, in force, and told them that ambulances would be needed?’
‘I insisted on it,’ Angela told him, with a touch of chill. ‘And I was perfectly right. They were needed.’
‘But simply on this woman’s word -‘
‘I’ve known Mrs Brant for years. She’s a sensible woman.’