“A wise precaution,” said Twango. “We will all witness the process.”
Cugel sealed the boxes, made his mark into the hardening wax, then strapped the cases to the carrier. He explained: “We must take care lest a vibration or an unforeseen jar dislodge one of the cases, to the possible damage of the contents.”
“Right, Cugel! Are we now prepared?”
“Quite so. Rincz and Jornulk, you will go first, taking care that the way is without hindrance. Soldinck, you will precede the carrier by five paces. I will push the carrier and Twango will follow five paces to the rear. In absolute security we shall thereby bring the scales to the wagon.”
“Very good,” said Soldinck. “So it shall be. Rincz, Jornulk! You will go first, using all alertness!”
The procession departed the work-room and passed through a dark corridor fifteen yards long, pausing only long enough for Cugel to call ahead to Soldinck: “Is all clear?”
“All is clear,” came back Soldinck’s reassurance. “You may come forward!”
Without further delay Cugel rolled the carrier out to the wagon. “Notice all! The cases are delivered to the wagon in the number of four, each sealed with my seal. Soldinck, I hereby transfer custody of these valuables to you. I will now apply more wax, upon which you will stamp your own mark … Very good; my part of the business is done.”
Twango congratulated Cugel. “And done well, Cugel! All was proper and efficient. The carrier looked neat and orderly with its fine coat of varnish and the neat apron installed by Weamish. Now then, Soldinck, if you will render me the receipt and my payment in full, the transaction will be complete.”
Soldinck, still in a somewhat surly mood, gave over the receipt and counted out terces to the stipulated amount; then, with Rincz and Jornulk, he drove his wagon back to Saskervoy.
Cugel meanwhile wheeled the carrier to the shop. He inverted the top surface on its secret pivot, to bring the four cases into view. He removed the lids, lifted out the packets, put the broken cases into the fire, and poured the scales into a sack.
A flicker of motion caught his attention. Cugel peered sideways and glimpsed a smart red cap disappearing from view at the window.
Cugel stood motionless for ten seconds, then he moved with haste. He ran outside, but saw neither Gark nor Gookin, nor yet Yelleg nor Malser who presumably were diving in the pond.
Returning into the shop, Cugel took the sack of scales and ran fleet-footed to that hovel inhabited by Bilberd the half-witted gardener. Under a pile of rubbish in the corner of the room he hid the sack, then ran back to the shop. Into another sack he poured an assortment of nails, studs, nuts, bolts and assorted trifles of hardware, and replaced this sack on the shelf. Then, after stirring the fire around the burning cases, he busied himself varnishing the upper surface of the carrier.
Three minutes later Twango arrived with Gark and Gookin at his heels, the latter carrying long-handled man-hooks.
Cugel held up his hand. “Careful, Twango! The varnish is wet!”
Twango called out in a nasal voice: “Cugel, let us have no evasion! Where are the scales?”
“‘Scales’? Why do you want them now?”
“Cugel, the scales, if you please!”
Cugel shrugged. “As you like.” He brought down a tray. “I have had quite a decent morning. Six ‘ordinaries’ and a fine ‘special’! Notice this extraordinary specimen, if you will!”
“Yes, that is a ‘Malar Astrangal’, which fits over the elbow part of the third arm. It is an exceedingly fine specimen. Where are the others, which, so I understand, are numbered in the hundreds?”
Cugel looked at him in amazement. “Where have you heard such an extraordinary fantasy?”
“That is a matter of no consequence! Show me the scales or I must ask Gark and Gookin to find them!”
“Do so, by all means,” said Cugel with dignity. “But first let me protect my property.” He placed the six ‘ordinaries’ and the ‘Malar Astrangal’ in his pouch. At this moment, Gark, hopping up on the bench, gave a rasping croak of triumph and pulled down the sack Cugel had so recently placed there. “This is the sack! It is heavy with scales!”
Twango poured out the contents of the sack. “A few minutes ago,” said Cugel, “I looked through this sack for a clevis to fit upon the carrier. Gark perhaps mistook these objects for scales.” Cugel went to the door. “I will leave you to your search.”
The time was now approaching the hour when Yelleg and Malser ordinarily took their tea. Cugel looked into the shed, but the fire was dead and the divers were nowhere to be seen.
Good enough, thought Cugel. Now was the time to remove from his grave those scales originally filched by Weamish.
He went to the back of the garden, where, in the shade of the myrhadion tree he had buried Weamish and dug his own grave.
No unwelcome observers were in evidence. Cugel started to jump down into his grave, but stopped short, deterred by the sight of four broken and empty cases at the bottom of the hole.
Cugel returned to the manse and went to the refectory where he found Bilberd the gardener.
“I am looking for Yelleg and Malser,” said Cugel. “Have you seen them recently?”
Bilberd simpered and blinked. “Indeed I have, about two hours ago, when they departed for Saskervoy. They said that they were done diving for scales.”
“That is a surprise,” said Cugel through a constricted throat.
“True,” said Bilberd. “Still, one must make an occasional change, otherwise he risks stagnation. I have gardened at Flutic for twenty-three years and I am starting to lose interest in the job. It is time that I myself considered a new career, perhaps in fashion design, despite the financial risks.”
“An excellent idea!” said Cugel. “Were I a wealthy man, I would instantly advance to you the necessary capital!”
“I appreciate the offer!” said Bilberd warmly. “You are a generous man, Cugel!”
The gong sounded, signaling visitors. Cugel started to respond, then settled once more into his seat: let Gark or Gookin or Twango himself answer the door.
The gong sounded, again and again, and finally Cugel, from sheer vexation, went to answer the summons.
At the door stood Soldinck, with Rincz and Jornulk. Soldinck’s face was grim. “Where is Twango? I wish to see him at once.”
“It might be better if you returned tomorrow,” said Cugel. “Twango is taking his afternoon rest.”
