Read Online Borribles Go For Broke, The by Michael de Larrabeiti - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
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themselves forward with energy instead of lying back with decorum. Sussworth’s face was like a three-fingered signpost, turned by mischievous hands so that everything pointed down the wrong road.
His forehead was narrow, his eyebrows dark and well marked. His hair was lank and oiled and fell over his forehead in a solid lump. His eyes skulked deep in their sockets and, when they could be seen, were the colour of used washing-up water left overnight and found greasy-grey in the morning. Under his nose lived a small black moustache about the size of a jubilee postage stamp; it led a life of its own, that moustache, and twitched whenever it thought it would. Sussworth was only five feet six inches tall, with a slender body. Whether he sat or stood his feet always moved with nervous energy. He kicked the ground when he was annoyed, he did a little three-step dance when he was pleased. He was stubborn and he was proud; his blood bubbled with a lunatic zeal, he was an evangelist for rectitude and decorum, an enforcer of law and order.
By comparison Sergeant Hanks was an enormous man with broad shoulders and hands so big that when he clasped them it looked like he was carrying six pounds of raw pork sausages, unwrapped.
His arms were as muscular as other people’s thighs and covered all over with curly ginger hair, stiff as wire. He had a belly that surged frontwards; it began just below his neck, it ended just above his knees, but there was nothing flabby about it. It was a powerful belly, and sinew rippled across it all the time and made his uniform move as if he had a large python living underneath his jumper.
His jacket had egg stains down it from collar to hem and from shoulder to shoulder, like the medals on a general’s tunic. There was only one thing that Hanks liked more than regular meals and that was the meals in between. His favourite food was four eggs and ten rashers of bacon with as much fried bread as could be stacked on a plate: what he called a ‘double-greasy’. His fleshy round face lit up when he smelt such a feast and heard the hot fat sizzling in the frying pan. At such times his pastel blue eyes would shine and glint with greed, but his silver buttons were always dull.
The inspector sipped his tea prudently, like a tea taster. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said, ‘we’ll take that little malefactor to Eel Brook Common and see what the horse makes of him.’
‘We will,’ said Hanks, ‘indeed we will.’
‘And those two little blighters who got away, they’ll have run off and told their mates what happened, won’t they?’
Sergeant Hanks rolled his head.
‘And we know what Borribles do when one of their mates gets caught, don’t we?’
‘Why,’ said Hanks, ‘they tries to get their friend uncaught before we clips his ears.’
‘Right, Hanks, right. So you can bet your next double-greasy that tomorrow we’ll be seeing quite a few Borribles at Eel Brook Common. They’ll be there … but so will we.’ Sussworth jumped to his feet, tipped the remainder of his tea into his mouth and then perched himself neatly on the edge of his desk like a paperweight. ‘Get the men down here,’ he ordered. ‘I want to give them their instructions.’
Sergeant Hanks pressed a button and all round the house bells rang. A moment later there was the sound of heavy boots in the rooms above and in the kitchen below. The noise moved on to the
stairs and the door to Sussworth’s office opened. Twelve men in blue came to stand in front of their commander, not at attention but relaxed and confident.
‘I’m glad to see you section leaders ready,’ began Sussworth. ‘Now we were lucky today, we caught one. Tomorrow, when we take him to see the horse, I expect a rescue attempt to be mounted. We must be prepared.’ He leant forward and stamped twice on the floor. ‘During the night I want men from vans two, five and eleven to take over the area surrounding the common. I want some of you to get into the
His forehead was narrow, his eyebrows dark and well marked. His hair was lank and oiled and fell over his forehead in a solid lump. His eyes skulked deep in their sockets and, when they could be seen, were the colour of used washing-up water left overnight and found greasy-grey in the morning. Under his nose lived a small black moustache about the size of a jubilee postage stamp; it led a life of its own, that moustache, and twitched whenever it thought it would. Sussworth was only five feet six inches tall, with a slender body. Whether he sat or stood his feet always moved with nervous energy. He kicked the ground when he was annoyed, he did a little three-step dance when he was pleased. He was stubborn and he was proud; his blood bubbled with a lunatic zeal, he was an evangelist for rectitude and decorum, an enforcer of law and order.
By comparison Sergeant Hanks was an enormous man with broad shoulders and hands so big that when he clasped them it looked like he was carrying six pounds of raw pork sausages, unwrapped.
His arms were as muscular as other people’s thighs and covered all over with curly ginger hair, stiff as wire. He had a belly that surged frontwards; it began just below his neck, it ended just above his knees, but there was nothing flabby about it. It was a powerful belly, and sinew rippled across it all the time and made his uniform move as if he had a large python living underneath his jumper.
His jacket had egg stains down it from collar to hem and from shoulder to shoulder, like the medals on a general’s tunic. There was only one thing that Hanks liked more than regular meals and that was the meals in between. His favourite food was four eggs and ten rashers of bacon with as much fried bread as could be stacked on a plate: what he called a ‘double-greasy’. His fleshy round face lit up when he smelt such a feast and heard the hot fat sizzling in the frying pan. At such times his pastel blue eyes would shine and glint with greed, but his silver buttons were always dull.
The inspector sipped his tea prudently, like a tea taster. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said, ‘we’ll take that little malefactor to Eel Brook Common and see what the horse makes of him.’
‘We will,’ said Hanks, ‘indeed we will.’
‘And those two little blighters who got away, they’ll have run off and told their mates what happened, won’t they?’
Sergeant Hanks rolled his head.
‘And we know what Borribles do when one of their mates gets caught, don’t we?’
‘Why,’ said Hanks, ‘they tries to get their friend uncaught before we clips his ears.’
‘Right, Hanks, right. So you can bet your next double-greasy that tomorrow we’ll be seeing quite a few Borribles at Eel Brook Common. They’ll be there … but so will we.’ Sussworth jumped to his feet, tipped the remainder of his tea into his mouth and then perched himself neatly on the edge of his desk like a paperweight. ‘Get the men down here,’ he ordered. ‘I want to give them their instructions.’
Sergeant Hanks pressed a button and all round the house bells rang. A moment later there was the sound of heavy boots in the rooms above and in the kitchen below. The noise moved on to the
stairs and the door to Sussworth’s office opened. Twelve men in blue came to stand in front of their commander, not at attention but relaxed and confident.
‘I’m glad to see you section leaders ready,’ began Sussworth. ‘Now we were lucky today, we caught one. Tomorrow, when we take him to see the horse, I expect a rescue attempt to be mounted. We must be prepared.’ He leant forward and stamped twice on the floor. ‘During the night I want men from vans two, five and eleven to take over the area surrounding the common. I want some of you to get into the
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