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datatime: 2022-12-06 23:06:59 Author:KeyzLFST

'I was just talking about that to Pooley,' said Neville, gesturing towards Jim's table.

But naught, however, remained to signal that either Jim Pooley or John Omally had ever been there, naught but for two half-consumed pints of Large going warm upon the table and a saloon-bar door which swung quietly to and fro upon its hinge.

Pooley groaned anew. 'I was having such a beautiful dream. I can't go on here,' he moaned, 'I can't live out my days a fugitive in an allotment shed, I wish Archroy had never rebuilt it. You must give yourself up, John, claim diminished responsibility, I will gladly back you up on that.'

The two men did not wait to see what might happen. They looked at each other, dropped the newspaper and fled.

'We?' said Pooley. 'Where do you get this "we" from? It was your wheelbarrow.'

The two men did not wait to see what might happen. They looked at each other, dropped the newspaper and fled.

But naught, however, remained to signal that either Jim Pooley or John Omally had ever been there, naught but for two half-consumed pints of Large going warm upon the table and a saloon-bar door which swung quietly to and fro upon its hinge.

Pooley groaned anew. 'I was having such a beautiful dream. I can't go on here,' he moaned, 'I can't live out my days a fugitive in an allotment shed, I wish Archroy had never rebuilt it. You must give yourself up, John, claim diminished responsibility, I will gladly back you up on that.'

'Is that it?' Omally asked.

'I mean we might tell the police about what we saw; it might start an investigation into what is going on in the Mission.'

'I have no other suggestions,' said Jim. 'I can only counsel caution and the maintaining of the now legendary low profile.'

'I mean we might tell the police about what we saw; it might start an investigation into what is going on in the Mission.'

Omally awoke with a start, something was pressing firmly into his throat and stopping his breath. 'Ow, ooh, get off, get off.' These imprecations were directed towards Jim Pooley, whose oversized boot had come snugly to rest beneath Omally's chin. 'Will you get off I say?'

'We?' said Pooley. 'Where do you get this "we" from? It was your wheelbarrow.'

The words were drowned by the scream of a police-car siren. Driven at high speed, the car came through the red lights at the bottom of Haling Road, roared past them and screeched to a standstill a hundred yards further on, outside the Flying Swan. A plainclothes detective and three burly constables leapt from the vehicle and swept into the saloon bar.

Pooley jerked himself awake. 'Where am I?' he groaned.

'Where you have been for the last two days, in my bloody allotment shed.'

'We?' said Pooley. 'Where do you get this "we" from? It was your wheelbarrow.'

Omally awoke with a start, something was pressing firmly into his throat and stopping his breath. 'Ow, ooh, get off, get off.' These imprecations were directed towards Jim Pooley, whose oversized boot had come snugly to rest beneath Omally's chin. 'Will you get off I say?'

'I don't think the Professor would appreciate that, it might interfere with his plans. Also the police might claim conspiracy because we didn't come forward earlier.'

'I was just talking about that to Pooley,' said Neville, gesturing towards Jim's table.

Omally was not listening, he was peeling a potato. Before him a monstrous heap of such peelings spoke most fluently of the restricted diet upon which the two were at present subsisting. 'It is spud for breakfast,' said he.

Norman prodded at his paper. 'Wheelbarrow clue in double slaying.'

'No, either the reporter had no film in his Brownie or the police didn't think it necessary.'

'No, either the reporter had no film in his Brownie or the police didn't think it necessary.'

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