Clubbed to Death Read Online Free PDF

hands wildly through his hair. ‘You mean you went through with that mad idea.’
    ‘Well, you did say I could, sir.’
    ‘I said I wouldn’t forbid it, Ellis, but I suppose I was banking on Robert not being so malleable this time.’
    ‘It’s not so much malleable. I think he’s actually developing a taste for this kind of undercover operation.’
    ‘Does it ever occur to you, Ellis, ’ said Milton rather crossly, ‘that I might feel bad about my friend being exploited and indeed possibly put in danger in this way?’
    ‘Well, he’s my friend too,’ said Pooley stiffly.
    ‘You obviously expect your friends to be made of very stern stuff. ’ Then, seeing the disappointment on Pooley’s face, Milton pulled himself up. ‘It’s OK, Ellis,’ he said. ‘You’re doing your job, if in a decidedly unorthodox way, and Robert is a consenting adult. How did he sound anyway?’
    ‘Incredulous,’ said Pooley. He had already forgotten their dispute: his features were transformed with a broad grin. ‘I told him it was a bizarre set-up, but judging by the gargling noises he was making, belowstairs is as daft as above. Anyway he wants to meet us, this evening if possible. He reckons he’ll be free early evening and he needs some moral support and advice.’
    ‘I could do eight o’clock, ’ said Milton.
    ‘For dinner?’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Ah,’ said Pooley, ‘Robert was most explicit on that subject. He said that if anybody thought that after a day toiling in Dickensian surroundings he was to be fobbed off with a twentieth-rate meal in a tenth-rate restaurant they could…“ He looked embarrassed.
    ‘Take a flying fuck, I imagine. You really are very proper, Ellis.’
    ‘Anyway, sir, I think he was getting a bit worked up.’
    ‘So what’s he looking for? The Savoy?’
    ‘Too public,’ said Pooley. ‘I mean, I know I took him to my club the other day, but now that he’s actually been seen in ffeatherstonehaugh’s, it would be bad news to have him spotted anywhere salubrious outside. Awfully suspicious. I suggested we meet in my place. I’ll have something sent in.’
    ‘By a bevy of Hooray Henriettas, no doubt,’ said Milton absently.
    ‘Well… I do have a cousin.’ Pooley seemed rather abashed. ‘She wasn’t awfully academic but she did terribly well on the cordon bleu. Quite a nice little business she’s got going now with directors’ dining-rooms and that kind of thing.’
    ‘You cheer me up, Ellis,’ said Milton. ‘I’ll see you at eight. But make sure that you’ve got celery salt to go with the quails’ eggs and that the boeuf en croûte is rare. Now clear off and get on with some of the work you’re actually supposed to be doing.’

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    5
    « ^ »
    Milton had just rung Pooley’s doorbell when a taxi drew up and disgorged Amiss, a large suitcase and a noisy wicker basket. ‘Hallo,’ came Pooley’s voice over the intercom.
    ‘It’s Jim Milton and friends.’
    Milton pushed the door as the buzzer sounded and held it open for Amiss. Wails and crashes sounded from the basket.
    ‘Good evening, Robert, ’ said Milton, holding out his hand for the suitcase.
    ‘Good evening, Jim.’
    They made no attempt at conversation on their way upstairs, since the screams of the tormented animal had reached an ear-splitting crescendo. Pooley’s smile of welcome died as he opened the door and identified the noise.
    ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘All of you.’
    Without invitation, once the door was shut, Amiss undid the straps of the basket and a great ginger creature erupted from it; it spent several minutes racing wildly round the living-room. The three men stood awestruck as the cat soared on to table tops, swung from the mantelpiece, cleared the top of the sofa, dangled from the top of Pooley’s favourite armchair and clambered up the long velvet curtains, to come finally to rest on top of the pelmet.
    ‘You remember Plutarch?’ enquired Amiss affably.
    ‘Indeed I do,’ said Pooley.