"Yes. A telephone call I forgot to make. "I "A pity. But perhaps it will all come right. And meanwhile I profit by your mistake."
"Unfortunately that is the way the world goes."
The omnibus moved through the night, under a sky spread with constellations strange to Glawen. Tonight the wind blew in gusts, sighing around the bus and bending the lonely frooks, where they could be seen in the starlight.
The driver was Bant, a large young Fcxel of good disposition and a tendency toward garrulity. Glawen responded to his remarks in monosyllables, and Bant presently fell silent.
After two hours of travel, Glawen asked: "What of the early morning transport from Pogan's Point? How will that be arranged?"
"I have been wondering along the same lines," said Bant.
"I
foresee no real problem. In the simplest case, there will be no transport whatever, and the problem becomes moot. But I have arrived at a plan which should please everyone. In an hour or two we will arrive at Flicken, where I will telephone Esmer, the relief driver. I will offer him five sols to bring out the old green Deluxus Special to service the morning trade. Esmer will be happy to earn an increment;
the customers will be content; I cannot see where a single tear of anguish need be shed--certainly not by me."
"That is an ingenious solution. How long before we arrive at Flicken? I also want to make a telephone call."
"I estimate another hour or an hour and a half. I am driving slowly because of the wind. The gusts make steering unpredictable at high speeds. What is your opinion on this?"
"I believe that safety is important. It is better to arrive alive than dead."
"This is exactly my point," said Bant.
"I have explained this to Esmer: what is the value of thirty minutes, more or less, to a corpse? He is already late and no longer in a hurry. The time is more useful on this side of the veil, such is my belief."
"And mine as well," said Glawen.
"In regard to the telephone at Flicken, the time is late; will it be available for our use?"
"Without a doubt. Keelums will be in bed upstairs but the sound of a sol or two will bring him down quickly."
The conversation languished once again. Glawen could not wrench his thoughts away from the seminary. He wondered when his depai cure would be noticed. Certainly at dawn, and quite possibly earlier. Perhaps someone had already looked into his vacated chamber. Glawen grinned at the thought of the consternation which his absence would evoke, with the location of Zonk's Tomb no longer a secret. He had been pondering the situation since leaving Pogan's Point, and now he could not get to the telephone fast enough.
Far ahead appeared a cluster of dim lights. Bant pointed.
"Flicken."
"Why the lights? Is someone up and around?"
"I believe that it is a matter of civic pride."
"What time might we expect to arrive in Fexelburg?"
"If we take a bowl or two of soup to ward off the chill and perhaps
a slice of meat pie let us say, a total stop of half an hour, which will include our telephone calls we should arrive about dawn. At this time of year the nights are short."
At dawn Glawen's escape would be known, if not much sooner, and as if in response to the thought, Glawen felt a sudden eerie waft of emotion, seeming to come from the direction of Pogan's Point: a rage and hatred so intense as to seem a palpable projection. Rightly or wrongly, Glawen felt assured that at this moment his absence had been discovered.
The bus rolled into Flicken and halted in front of the general store. Bant alighted and went to the door, where he pulled on the bell cord.
"Keelums!" he called.
"Arouse yourself! Sleep some other time! Keelums! Are you awake?"
"Yes, I'm awake," croaked Keelums from an upstairs window.
"It's Bant, is it? What do you want?"
"Some hot soup and the use of your telephone. This gentleman will offer you a sol for the privilege, and if he doesn't I will. Of course, if you are proud, you need not accept."
"Oh, I am proud enough! Especially after I take the money.
Soup, is it?"
"And some meat pie, and a taste of the raisin pudding. Open up! The wind howls and bites at my poor shanks!"
"Be patient! Allow me to pull on my robe."
The door opened. Glawen entered the store, followed by Bant.
"Where is the telephone?" asked Glawen.
"Over on the desk, but first, before we forget, the sol."
Glawen paid over the money and went to the telephone. He called the IPCC office at Fexelburg, and was finally connected with the Adjudicant Partric Plock at his residence. To hear the cool calm voice brought Glawen such relief that he became almost limp.
