Two down
“I think that’s a wolf coming.”
Caddick snorted. “This is Hampstead Heath. One does not see wolves on Hampstead Heath. At least, not the four-legged kind.”
Lyle continued “And Aunt Anna always warned us to watch out for wolves.”
“Aunt Anna – God bless her soul and spätzle – grew up in Baden where, as you know perfectly well, there live many things not to be found in Golders Green. Pass the digestives. Thanks.”
Lyle fished distractedly under the bench for the Thermos. “It is rather shaggy.”
“And many other things are shaggy,” the acid barely diluted. “Woolly mammoths are shaggy, but a woolly mammoth is not a wolf. You yourself are shaggy, and you score over both wolf and mammoth in often being seen on Hampstead Heath. Anyway, it's a dog.”
An icy gust hid the face of the Chancellor, exposed the half-finished crossword.
“Disturbing to confuse sin with virtue,” intoned Caddick.
“I only said it looks like a wolf,” Lyle objected.
“No, eleven across, ‘Disturbing to confuse sin with virtue’. Nine letters. I something T.”
“Ah.” Lyle fell silent, lips moving. His gaze sank to earth again. “It does lope rather like a wolf. In this direction, as I think I mentioned.”
Caddick searched through pocket debris. “I had a biro somewhere”.
“It’s intrusive.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lyle. It’s just a dog running across a heath.”
“No, eleven across. Intrusive. Anagram of ‘sin’ and ‘virtue’.”
“Yes! N… R-U-S-I-V-E. Well done, cuz. Now, eighteen across. 'Governing body: Swede's burial chamber is off to the right'. Seven letters, something something S.”
Lyle stared now, thin-lipped and paling. “It has a very black mouth. And a very red tongue. And very many, very sharp, very wolf-like teeth.”
“Y – yes, yes, I’ll give you that,” squinted Caddick. “But hair and tooth and tongue and gait do not a wolf make. Do they?”
“Caddick. Caddick, I believe it means to… intrude on us.”
“Oh nonsense, man! Get a grip. This is London. It’s Hampstead He— ”.
The thing that could not possibly be a wolf sprang, without slowing, all splaying claws and snarling maw agape. Yellow fangs ripped first one throat, then the other, from more or less surprised necks. A sanguinary duet pattered on its brindled pelt as it gorged on flesh now beyond doubt. It licked a gory scrap from yesterday’s solution and sniffed the wind, then raised its shaggy head and howled – but not, of course, in a lupine way. This was, after all, Hampstead Heath, where there are no wolves of the four-legged kind.
Caddick snorted. “This is Hampstead Heath. One does not see wolves on Hampstead Heath. At least, not the four-legged kind.”
Lyle continued “And Aunt Anna always warned us to watch out for wolves.”
“Aunt Anna – God bless her soul and spätzle – grew up in Baden where, as you know perfectly well, there live many things not to be found in Golders Green. Pass the digestives. Thanks.”
Lyle fished distractedly under the bench for the Thermos. “It is rather shaggy.”
“And many other things are shaggy,” the acid barely diluted. “Woolly mammoths are shaggy, but a woolly mammoth is not a wolf. You yourself are shaggy, and you score over both wolf and mammoth in often being seen on Hampstead Heath. Anyway, it's a dog.”
An icy gust hid the face of the Chancellor, exposed the half-finished crossword.
“Disturbing to confuse sin with virtue,” intoned Caddick.
“I only said it looks like a wolf,” Lyle objected.
“No, eleven across, ‘Disturbing to confuse sin with virtue’. Nine letters. I something T.”
“Ah.” Lyle fell silent, lips moving. His gaze sank to earth again. “It does lope rather like a wolf. In this direction, as I think I mentioned.”
Caddick searched through pocket debris. “I had a biro somewhere”.
“It’s intrusive.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lyle. It’s just a dog running across a heath.”
“No, eleven across. Intrusive. Anagram of ‘sin’ and ‘virtue’.”
“Yes! N… R-U-S-I-V-E. Well done, cuz. Now, eighteen across. 'Governing body: Swede's burial chamber is off to the right'. Seven letters, something something S.”
Lyle stared now, thin-lipped and paling. “It has a very black mouth. And a very red tongue. And very many, very sharp, very wolf-like teeth.”
“Y – yes, yes, I’ll give you that,” squinted Caddick. “But hair and tooth and tongue and gait do not a wolf make. Do they?”
“Caddick. Caddick, I believe it means to… intrude on us.”
“Oh nonsense, man! Get a grip. This is London. It’s Hampstead He— ”.
The thing that could not possibly be a wolf sprang, without slowing, all splaying claws and snarling maw agape. Yellow fangs ripped first one throat, then the other, from more or less surprised necks. A sanguinary duet pattered on its brindled pelt as it gorged on flesh now beyond doubt. It licked a gory scrap from yesterday’s solution and sniffed the wind, then raised its shaggy head and howled – but not, of course, in a lupine way. This was, after all, Hampstead Heath, where there are no wolves of the four-legged kind.
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