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'Anyone know where he is?' asked the Bellman. 'Beatrice, weren't you working with him?'
'Not I,' replied the young woman. 'You might enquire this of Benedict if he troubles to attend but you would as well speak to a goat – a stupid goat, mark me.'
'The sweet lady's tongue does abuse to our ears,' said Benedict, who had been seated out of our view but now rose to glare at Beatrice. 'Were the fountain of your mind clear again, that I might water an ass at it.'
'Ah!' retorted Beatrice with a laugh. 'Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike!'
'Dear Beatrice,' returned Benedict, bowing low, 'I was looking for a fool when I found you.'
'You, Benedict, who has not so much brain as ear-wax?'
They narrowed their eyes at one another and then smiled with polite enmity.
'All right, all right,' interrupted the Bellman. 'Calm down, you two. Do you know where Agent Godot is or not?'
Beatrice answered that she didn't.
'Right,' announced the Bellman. 'Let's get on. Jurisfiction meeting number 40319 is now in session.'
He tingled his bell again, coughed and consulted his clipboard.
'Item one. Our congratulations go to Deane and Lady Cavendish for foiling the Bowdlerisers in Chaucer.'
There were a few words of encouragement and back-slapping.
'There has been damage done but it's got no worse, so let's just try and keep an eye out in the future. Item two.'
He put down his clipboard and leaned on the lectern.
'Remember that craze a few years back in the BookWorld for sending chain letters? Receive a letter and send one on to ten friends? Well, someone has been over-enthusiastic with the letter "U". I've got a report here from the Text Sea Environmental Protection Agency saying that reserves of the letter "U" have reached dangerously low levels – we need to decrease consumption until stocks are brought back up. Any suggestions?'
'How about using a lower-case "N" upside down?' said Benedict.
'We tried that with "M" and "W" during the Great "M" Migration of '62; it never worked.'
'How about respelling what, what?' suggested King Pellinore, stroking his large white moustache. 'Any word with the "our" ending could be spelt "or", dontchaknow.'
'Like neighbor instead of neighbour?
'It's a good idea,' put in Snell. 'Labor, valor, flavor, harbor— there are hundreds. If we confine it to one geographical area we can claim it as a local spelling idiosyncrasy.'
'Hmm,' said the Bellman, thinking hard. 'Do you know, it just might work.'
He looked at his clipboard again.
'Item three – Tweed, are you here?'
Harris Tweed signalled from where he was sitting.
'Good,' continued the Bellman. 'I understand you w
ere pursuing a PageRunner who had taken up residence in the Outland?'
Tweed glanced at me and stood up.
'Fellow by the name of Yorrick Kaine. He's something of a big cheese in the Outland – runs Kaine Publishing and has set himself up as head of his own political party—'
'Yes, yes,' said the Bellman impatiently, 'and he stole Cardenio, I know – but the point is, where is he now?'
