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'Oh, my darling boy,' he said softly. 'Oh, my sainted aunt! I do believe you've got it. Yes, I do. I do. I do.'
He was suddenly so choked up with excitement that for a few seconds he couldn't say any more. He came and sat on the edge of my bunk and there he stayed, nodding his head very slowly up and down.
'You really think it would work?' I asked him.
'Yes,' he said quietly. 'It'll work all right. With this method we could prepare two hundred raisins, and all we'd have to do is scatter them round the feeding grounds at sunset, and then walk away. Half an hour later, after it was dark and the keepers had all gone home, we would go back into the wood... and the pheasants would be up in the trees by then, roosting... and the pills would be beginning to work... and the pheasants would be starting to feel groggy... they'd be wobbling and trying to keep their balance... and soon every pheasant that had eaten one single raisin would topple over unconscious and fall to the ground. Why, they'd be dropping out of the trees like apples! And all we'd have to do is walk around picking them up!'
'Can I do it with you, Dad?'
'And they'd never catch us either,' my father said, not hearing me. 'We'd simply stroll through the woods dropping a few raisi
ns here and there as we went, and even if they were watching us they wouldn't notice anything.'
'Dad,' I said, raising my voice, 'you will let me come with you?'
'Danny, my love,' he said, laying a hand on my knee and gazing at me with eyes large and bright as two stars, 'if this thing works, it will revolutionize poaching.'
'Yes, Dad, but can I come with you?'
'Come with me?' he said, floating out of his dream at last. 'But my dear boy, of course you can come with me! It's your idea! You must be there to see it happening! Now then!' he cried, bouncing up off the bed. 'Where are those pills?'
The small bottle of red capsules was standing beside the sink. It had been there ever since my father returned from hospital. He fetched it and unscrewed the top and poured the capsules on to my blanket. 'Let's count them,' he said.
We counted them together. There were exactly fifty. 'That's not enough,' he said. 'We need two hundred at least.' Then he cried out, 'Wait! Hold it! There's no problem!' He began carefully putting the capsules back into the bottle, and as he did so he said, 'All we've got to do, Danny, is divide the powder from one capsule among four raisins. In other words, quarter the dose. That way we would have enough to fill two hundred raisins.'
'But would a quarter of one of those pills be strong enough to put a pheasant to sleep?' I asked.
'Of course it would, my dear boy. Work it out for yourself. How much smaller is a pheasant than a man?'
'Many, many times smaller.'
'There you are then. If one pill is enough to put a fully-grown man to sleep, you'll only need a tiny bit of that for a pheasant. What we're giving him will knock the old pheasant for a loop! He won't know what's hit him!'
'But Dad, two hundred raisins aren't going to get you two hundred pheasants.'
'Why not?'
'Because the greediest birds are surely going to gobble up about ten raisins each.'
'You've got a point there,' my father said. 'You certainly have. But somehow I don't think it will happen that way. Not if I'm very careful and spread them out over a wide area. Don't worry about it, Danny. I'm sure I can work it.'
'And you promise I can come with you?'
'Absolutely' he said. 'And we shall call this method The Sleeping Beauty. It will be a landmark in the history of poaching!'
I sat very still in my bunk, watching my father as he put each capsule back into the bottle. I could hardly believe what was happening, that we were really going to do it, that he and I alone were going to try to swipe practically the entire flock of Mr Victor Hazell's prize pheasants. Just thinking about it sent little shivers of electricity running all over my skin.
'Exciting, isn't it?' my father said.
'I don't dare think about it, Dad. It makes me shiver all over.'
'Me too,' he said. 'But we must keep very calm from now on. We must make our plans very very carefully. Today is Wednesday. The shooting party is next Saturday'
'Cripes!' I said. 'That's in three days' time! When do you and I go up to the wood and do the job?'
'The night before,' my father said. 'On the Friday. In that way they won't discover that all the pheasants have disappeared until it's too late and the party has begun.'
'Friday's the day after tomorrow! My goodness, Dad, we'll have to hurry if we're going to get two hundred raisins ready before then!'
