‘I solved those cases yesterday,’ said Mr Cameron Bell.
‘Then how come the Fifth Earl died the same way?’
‘It was either him or me. He intended to shoot me.’
‘I can understand how he felt,’ said Sergeant Case. ‘But who killed him?’
‘The murders at the Electric Alhambra were not the work of a man, but of a machine. A marvel of the modern age.
‘A machine?’ asked Sergeant Case.
‘It is called the Harmonising Arithmetical Logisticator — a most sophisticated mechanical nexus that governs the internal running of the Electric Alhambra.’
‘HAL,’ said Sergeant Case. ‘Oh no, you are wrong. I have seen that machine with my own eyes and heard it speak. But its speaking was just a trick, designed by Mr Babbage to fool Lord Andrew Ditchfield.’
‘I wonder whatever happened to him?’ wondered Cameron Bell, who knew a loose end when he saw one. ‘But I regret to tell you that Mr Babbage was fooling you, in order to protect his machine. I visited it yesterday. HAL and I came to something of an arrangement.’
Sergeant Case did shakings of the head. ‘Let us say I was to believe you, that this machine actually thinks for itself. Why did it kill the Music Hall stars, and why Mark Rowland Ferris?’
‘It is, as I have said, a most sophisticated piece of mechanical apparatus. Mr Babbage schooled it to play chess and to appreciate good music. Classical music being the veritable music of the spheres. A music of celestial harmony. The Harmonising Arithmetical Logisticator found itself night after night having to endure the banal songs of Music Hall bill-toppers. I mean, have you ever heard Smelly Charlie Belly’s song?’
‘I have,’ said the sergeant. ‘You flatter it by calling it banal.’
‘Precisely, and the Harm-HAL, if you will, got fed up and took to wiping out the performers in the name of high art.’
‘And the Fifth Earl?’
‘He threatened to burn down the theatre. He was standing right onstage when he did so. Twice.’
‘Twice?’ asked the sergeant.
‘Well,’ said Mr Bell, ‘he was also threatening Alice and me with a ray gun. I had to make him say it twice, in case HAL had not heard him the first time.’
‘It won’t do,’ said the sergeant. ‘It just won’t do.’
‘It will have to be made to do. Trust me, when I give evidence I will make all the pieces fit and you will take all of the credit.’
‘And I should trust you? If you were me would you trust you?’
‘I have no wish to be hanged,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘Believe me, you can really trust me this time.’
The private detective put his hand out for a shake.
The sergeant paused and then the sergeant took it.
‘A happy ever after, then,’ said he.
63
hree months later, the Electric Alhambra reopened.
Alice Lovell was topping the bill.
The Harmonising Arithmetical Logisticator had been completely rebuilt.
Cameron Bell had sent many red roses to Alice’s exclusive dressing room, into which he had somehow failed to gain access. He had also purchased seats in the Royal Box.
With Cameron sat Darwin the monkey, looking most dashing in top hat and tails. Major Tinker in his dress uniform. Commander Case in his. Commander Case’s wife was also in the box and she was being bothered by the Queen’s physician, Joseph Carey Merrick.
Her Majesty would not be there this evening, because somebody had humorously prescribed her a rather strong laxative.
Someone else who sadly would not be there was Colonel Katterfelto. The old soldier had been buried with full military honours. And awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross for his services to the Empire and his fight against the Beast.
Many had turned out to see his coffin go by on a gun carriage. The British Empire knew how to honour a hero.
‘I shall ask her tonight,’ said Cameron Bell, popping the cork from vintage champagne and splashing it into out-held glasses. ‘I have not seen her for months. I have been writing my book. I have kept my word with Commander Case and he will be the hero of it. My publisher assures me that it will be a best-seller and that I will be able to retire from the dangerous business of being a private detective upon the proceeds. I have purchased an engagement ring and tonight I will ask Alice to marry me.
‘Jolly good show,’ said Major Tinker. ‘Hope it all works out.’
Darwin held out his glass for champagne and whispered to Cameron Bell. ‘Are you really sure about this?’ he asked.
‘Of course I am sure. I will finish my book. She and I will be married. And she and I will live happily ever after.’
‘But what if she says no?’ asked Darwin.
‘Well,’ said Cameron, ‘she might. And if she does I will just have to make the best of it. I will return to what I know best. Being a private detective. There are still a few London landmarks that I have not yet destroyed.’
Darwin made a face of alarm.
‘I am only joking,’ said Mr Bell. ‘But if Alice says no, I shall return to being a private detective. I understand that Commander Case is presently baffled by something he will only describe as “the biggest case ever”.’
Darwin made a thoughtful face. ‘Have you ever considered taking on an assistant?’ he asked. ‘Or a partner?’
Cameron Bell viewed Darwin the monkey. ‘Are you applying for the post?’ he asked.
‘I am sure it would be a very big adventure,’ said Darwin.
Cameron Bell reached over and tousled the monkey’s head. ‘If Alice says no,’ he said, ‘I will return to my profession and you will be my partner. It is a promise.’
Darwin the monkey grinned.
He had gained access to Alice’s dressing room. And he had caught Alice in the arms of a tall, dark, slim and handsome fellow. One of the jugglers. Alice had referred to this handsome fellow as her secret admirer. And sworn Darwin to secrecy.
‘I think I might take to the wearing of a deerstalker hat, ‘said Darwin, the world’s first monkey detective.
THE END
Alice Lovell died in 1979.
Her son Ernest (1917-2010) was the inventor of the Deanox Process, which produces the world’s finest iron-oxide pigmentation used, amongst other things, for the colouration of asphalt. The pink of the Mall that leads to Buckingham Palace is a testament to this modest man’s genius.
His granddaughter is married to the author.
* * *
[1] Canine excrement used in the tanning process for the manufacture of kid gloves.
[2] History asserts that The Great Eastern was broken up in 1889. But what does history know!
[3] History records that The Pickwick Papers was originally published in 1837 and that Charles Dickens died in 1870, the year of Cameron Bell’s birth. No further references to the inaccuracy of recorded history will be made in this tome.
[4] Mr Pickwick’s famous valet.
[5] William Butler Yeats, 1865—1939. An Irish poet and dramatist, who would go on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923.
[6] Scientists have recently been considering the possibility that the missing racehorse Shergar entered a black hole and was transported into the past. This would tend to confirm that proposition.
[7] They can’t all be winners.
[8] As popularised in the ever-green Music Hall song ‘Treacle Sponge Bastard for Me, Please’.
[9] Nunbuck — a six-legged Jovian horse of irascible disposition.
[10] The patent Ferris Electrical Dewhiskerisor being a must-have for any gentleman’s travelling case.
Table of Contents
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Robert Rankin, The Mechanical Messiah and Other Marvels of the Modern Age r />
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