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The book was resting on its
end and was slightly open. A large tape had been run round the outside that read: 'Jurisfiction, do not cross'.
'Looking for something?'
It was Harris Tweed and Uriah Hope; they jumped down from the book and looked at us curiously.
'Good evening, Harris,' said Miss Havisham. 'We were trying to find Deane.'
'Me too. Have a look around if you wish but I'm damned if I can find a single clue as to his whereabouts.'
'Has anyone tried to kill you recently?' I asked.
'Me?' replied Harris. 'No. Why, should they?'
I told him about the UltraWord™ connection.
'It's possible that there might be a link,' he mused, 'but I gave UltraWord™ the fullest test; it seemed to work extremely well no matter what I did! Do you have any idea what Perkins had discovered?'
'We don't know he found anything wrong at all,' said Havisham.
Harris thought for a moment.
'I think we should definitely keep this to ourselves,' he said at last, 'and take great care what we do. If Deane is about and had anything to do with Perkins' death, he might be after you or me next.'
Havisham agreed, told me to go and see Professor Plum to ascertain whether he could shed any more light on the failed Eject-O-Hat and vanished after telling me she had an urgent appointment to keep. When she had gone, Harris said to me:
'Keep an eye on the old girl, won't you?'
I promised I would and made my way back towards the elevators, deep in thought.
25
Havisham: the final bow
* * *
'/ / / ../ / ../ / / / / ....../ / / / / .../ ./ ......./ / ../ ../ ./ / / .../ / / / / / ....../ / / ./ / / ./ / / / / / / / / / ........../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / / / / ......./ / ../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / .../ ./ ......./ / ../ ../ ./ / / .../ / / / / / ....../ / / ./ / / ./ / / / / / / / / / ........../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / / / ........../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / / / / ......./ / ../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / .../ ./ ......./ / / / / / / / / ../ / / / / ........../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / / / / ......./ / ../ / / / / / / ....../ / / ..../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / / / / ......./ / ../ / / / / / / ....../ / / / / .../ ./ ......./ / ../ ../ ./ / / .../ / / / / / / ....../ / / ./ / / ./ / / / / / / / / / ........../ / / / / / / ....../
Macbeth Retold for Yeast, translated by ../ / / / ../ / / ..
'Ah!' said Plum as I walked into his office. 'Miss Next – good news and bad news.'
'Better give me the bad news first.'
Plum took off his spectacles and polished them.
'The Eject-O-Hat. I've pulled the records and traced the manufacturing process all the way back to the original milliner; it seems that over a hundred people have been involved in its manufacture, modification and overhaul schedules. Fifteen years is a long service life for an Eject-O-Hat. Add the people with the know-how and we've got a short list of about six hundred.'
'A broad net.'
'I'm afraid so.'
I went to the window and looked out. Two peacocks were strutting across the lawn.
'What was the good news?'
'You know Miss Scarlett at Records?'
