Vintage Stuff by Tom Sharpe Page B

Barnes's in the Bursar's office.
    'Now it remains to convince the Major that you're going to your uncle's. Tell him you're

catching the ten o'clock train and I'll pick you up at the bus-stop in the village. We don't want

to be seen leaving the school together. So hop along to his room and then turn in. We've got a

long day ahead of us tomorrow.'
    Glodstone went up to his rooms and sat on in the evening sunlight studying his route on the

map and sipping pink gins. It was nine before he remembered the Major's Scotch and took him the

two bottles.
    'Bless you, old lad,' said the Major, 'You'll find a couple of glasses in the cupboard. Saved

my life. And Perry's off to his uncle's tomorrow.'
    'Really?' said Glodstone. 'Anyway, your very good health.'
    'Going to need it by the feel of things. Bloody nuisance being cooped up here with no one much

to chat to. Are you staying around for long?'
    Glodstone hesitated. He was fond of the Major and the whisky coming on top of his pink gins

had added to the intoxication he felt at the prospect of his adventure. 'Strictly between these

four walls,' he said, 'and I do mean strictly, the most extraordinary thing's happened and...' He

hesitated. The Countess had asked for the utmost secrecy but there was no harm in telling the

Major and if anything went wrong, it would help to have someone know. 'I've had a summons from La

Comtesse de Montcon, Wanderby's mater. Apparently she's in terrible trouble and needs me...'
    'Must be,' said the Major unsympathetically, but Glodstone was too drunk to get the message.

By the time he'd finished, Major Fetherington had downed several stiff whiskies in quick

succession and was looking at him peculiarly. 'Listen, Gloddie, you can't be serious. You must

have dreamt this up.'
    'I most certainly haven't,' said Glodstone. 'It's what I've been waiting for all my life. And

now it's come. I always knew it would. It's destiny.'
    'Oh, well, it's your pigeon. What do you want me to do?'
    'Nothing. I know how you're placed and all that. But do remember, you're sworn to secrecy. No

one, but no one, must know. I want your hand on that.'
    'If you say so,' said the Major. 'Shake a paw. No names, no pack-drill and all that. You can

rely on me. All the same...Pass the bottle. So you're crossing to Ostend?'
    'Yes,' said Glodstone and got up unsteadily. 'Better get some shut-eye.' He wove to the door

and went downstairs. On the way, he met the Matron and ignored her. She held no attractions for

him now. La Comtesse de Montcon wanted him and the great romance of his life had begun. He

crossed the quad. A light was burning in Peregrine's dormitory but Glodstone didn't see it.
    'Fuck me,' said the Major, unfortunately just as the Matron entered.
    Peregrine shut the book and turned out the light. He had just finished The Day of the

Jackal.

Chapter 9
    In Ramsgate, Slymne hardly slept. Away from Groxbourne and in the saner atmosphere of his

mother's house, Slymne could see considerable weaknesses in his plan. To begin with, he had

forged two letters from the Countess and if Glodstone hadn't followed instructions to burn the

confounded things and actually produced them to her, things could become exceedingly awkward. The

woman might well call the police in and they would probably find his fingerprints on the letters.

At least Slymne supposed they could, with modern methods of forensic science, and even if they

didn't there was still the matter of the hotel bookings. As far as he could see, this was his

most fatal mistake. He should never have made the bookings by telephone from England. If the

calls were traced the police would begin looking for motive and from there to his own progress

across France during the Easter holidays...Slymne preferred not to think of the consequences.

He'd lose his job at the school and Glodstone would gloat over his exposure. In fact he could see

now that the whole thing had been a ghastly