Miss — ita looked as though she were wanting very much to say, “Tchuh!” once more, but she did not say; Cumberbatch said, “ The.?” and paused, polite, expectant.
“The ephialtes. Perhaps you may know them as the epialtes.”
Clinkle-clinkle. - the ice in Jack’s glass. He refreshed it from the chaparita; squeezed in some more lime: keep away the dreaded scurvy; whose discovery? Captain Cook’s, maybe. Was said to have sailed these waters as a younger man. If so, in either case, had either experience helped him at the end? Ha.
“No,” said the Superintendent, without pretense that the word was on the tip of his tongue. “I believe not. Tell me.”
“I shall,” Professor Brolly said. “Greek word. Words. Literally? ‘On-leapers.' Cognate with our English word, elves. Nothing playful about the ephialtes, though. The incubus, the demon who sits on one’s chest. Causes nightmares, fevers, chills and-”
“No tahk aboet eet!" — Miss — ita suddenly found more words to say than, “Tchuh!” And electric sparks went on and off inside Limekiller’s head.
“Time for my tiffin,” said Professor Brolly, very calmly. His comment not desired? Very well, then: it had never been made. He gathered his solid body and arose. “Nice to have met you all agavn. Day. Superintendent. Miss Munoz. Limekiller.” He bowed slightly, tucked the bumbershoot under his arm, and departed. Miss Munoz was meeting nobody’s eyes; her expression was something more than merely sulky, now. Superintendent Cumberbatch’s eyes, however, met Limekiller's. Their lack of expression was extremely expressive. Whatever had now to be worked out between C.E.A. Cumberbatch and Miss — ita Munoz, the presence of a third party would not assist. Cumberbatch was off duty? Limekiller had best get on duty.
Rosita! That was it! Not that it much mattered; if he,J. Lutwidge Limekiller, owner and master of the boat Saccharissa, now standing in King Town harbor with all her apparel etc etc, — if he bore the visible brand of Bathsheba (was he quite sure he liked that? Bathsheba was very nice, to be sure, and this and that and the other thing, and particularly one certain Other Thing; and, she being both very desirable and very desired, it was as though her favored man wore, himself, something like an Order. still.), then, certainly, Rosita Munoz, he now had been for some while realizing, bore that of Clement Edward Alfred Cumberbatch, one of H.M.’s Superintendents of Police… on duty or off. a good thing to know. And to remember.
Jack’s thanks, his polite farewells, his hopes of meeting them both in the near future, were received with impeccable amicable politeness by the gentleman. The lady made some small soft movement and some small soft sound. Not particularly joyous ones.
But at any rate she did not say, “Tchuh!"
The Fort Benbow Hotel was very much like the Empress Hotel in Victoria, in that it served afternoon tea; otherwise it w: as not much like the Empress Hotel in Victoria. Jack had not really been much of an afternoon tea addict, and the current CO of the Tea Ceremony in the Fort Benbow knew even less about it than he: horrid brew. Still. One must show the flag; in he went, mingled, sat, had tea: listened. Sooner or later, someone would say it. All the its which, seemingly, somehow had to be said, in the posh Fort Benbow.
And sooner or later, someone did say it: that This country was The End of the Line. And someone else said, again, Be that as it may This country was small enough to put your arms around and Love. And, so, inevitably, someone said, But that it was odd, though, what had happened to the Old Kingdom Chipchaks (again).
And, since hardly anyone who had lived here any length of time wanted very much to go through all of this all over again. and over and over and over. someone who had to be new here had asked, What had happened to the old Kingdom Chipchaks? Limekiller at this point eyed the door. “Ah," came the swift answer to the question, “That is what’s so odd!"
The Chipchak Indians had developed a very high level of culture in what was now British Flidalgo. Quite large buildings. Temples, and. ah. temples. Very large temples. Ruins scarcely touched by archeologists, you know. And then, for some reason still a mystery, the whole Chipchak nation had simply picked up and moved. En masse. Hundreds of miles. Into what was now the Republic of Saragosa. And had there rebuilt their entire civilization. (“And their temples?”) And their temples.; quite. And, as the “New Kingdom” Chipchaks, had re-flourished, until conquered by the Hutecs, who had in turn been conquered by the Spaniards. And no one had any idea why!
Why the Chipchaks had moved, that is.
“My word.”
“Well, for gosh sakes.”
Pause. Limekiller, and nor he alone, eyed the door again. But the door was too far, the crowd was too thick, and, besides, a possible charter to go sailing off to see some nice Old Kingdom Chipchak ruins (The most damnably dull-looking ruins ever ruined, and quite over canopied with undergrowth and overgrowth a lot more troublesome than if with luscious woodbine, sweet musk- roses, or with eglantine). was, well, a possible charter. And, so, not to be spat upon.
Even a charter de facto, if not de jure; possible conversation, “Now, Mr. Limekiller, we here in Government do not wish to make things difficult for you, but we have our laws as any nation has and so we must investigate possible violations thereof; is it true that from Wednesday last to Monday this, you were carrying a party of tourists on excursion, and without having a proper license for same, sir?” _ “Well, Chief Supervisor, no, not really, I was merely showing some visiting businessmen some land I own down at Wherever, with a view to their possibly buying it; for which as I am sure you know, Chief Supervisor, no license is required.” “Oh. Ah. I see. Yes. Quite so. The Ordinance. The Statute. We are so very understaffed here at Government, Mr. Limekiller that sometimes oversights. Oh no, thank you, Mr. Limekiller!”
Two reasons for not waiting till meeting Bathsheba at the stroke of ten in order to eat. First. It was absolutely certain she would say, “I ate at my auntie.” Second. It was absolutely certain that Jack was hungry now. A paradox: that, whilst Bayfolk home-cooking is as good a style of home-cooking to be found anywhere and better than manywhere, Bayfolk home-cooking almost never reaches the cook- rooms of Bayfolk restaurants. Crab soup with crab spawn? Venison with crabboo-fruit? Turtle stew? Cowtail braised and made with broth? Coconut bread? Mango jelly? And more and more and — Yum Yum. But.
But, somehow, Limekiller did not know why, it was almost never that one found any such thing in any King Town restaurant, the home of the Fry Chicken, the Horn Somwich, and the Tin Soup. Why? Odd.
There was also, yes indeed, “Spanish” food, very little like Mexican food (equally very little like Spanish food sans quotes), but certainly a change from Tin Soup (it came in tins, is why), Horn Somwich, and Fry Chicken: but Spanish Town was perhaps just a bit further than he cared just now to walk; the Grand Shanghai was what destiny seemed to have in store for Limekiller tonight; and, as he entered its doors, he at once perceived what else destiny (karma, he felt now he had to call it) had in store for him tonight, viz. Mrs. and Dr. Duckerson: “Why, you jist sut right down and have your dunner wuth us, Mr. Limekuller,” said Mrs. Duckerson: she was short. But she was sturdy.