Read Online The Weight of the Evidence by Michael Innes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Innes
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placidly. Suddenly he looked dismayed. ‘Bless my soul! I had quite forgotten the Symposium.’
‘The Symposium?’
‘Of course it is quite the wrong word.’ Hissey laughed merrily. ‘It is quite the wrong word, I am sorry to say. Colloquium would undoubtedly be better. Nothing but coffee is provided.’ Hissey again dissolved in innocent mirth. ‘But perhaps there is something a shade pedantic about Colloquium. The word is scarcely in common English use.’
‘I suppose not.’ Appleby had just finished a chunk of blancmange and was feeling as one often does feel after dinner in small provincial hotels. ‘In fact distinctly not. Colloquium is a most pedantic word.’
‘No doubt you are right.’ Hissey was slightly wistful. The possibility of changing from Symposium to Colloquium was clearly a matter to which he gave a good deal of thought. Now he looked at his watch. ‘What worries me is our glass of port. You see, I have to take the chair, and so it is necessary that I should go. But perhaps you would care to come across too? I am sure everybody would be delighted that I should bring an old pupil of my own.’
‘You are very kind.’ Appleby was cautious. ‘Will the Vice-Chancellor be there?’
‘Evans? Dear me, no.’ Hissey looked quite shocked.
‘Or Professor Crunkhorn or Church?’
‘Neither of them, I judge.’
‘I should like to come, very much.’ There might be something, Appleby thought, in getting a representative section of the academic body of Nesfield within one coup d’oeil . Particularly if his own identity were not yet generally known.
‘This is most delightful!’ Hissey had risen nimbly from his chair. ‘I think you will enjoy it. There are likely to be one or two interesting things. Prisk has a further batch of notes on the place names of Provence. Young Marlow is bringing a tentative bibliographical analysis of the 1582 quarto of Mumblechance . Tavender will review some recent contributions to epigraphy…’
‘It sounds very interesting indeed. And I hope you are giving something yourself?’
Hissey was moving towards the door. He stopped and lowered his voice. ‘Well, as a matter of fact I did happen the other day upon something a little odd in Paley’s Theocritus–’
‘In Paley’s Theocritus!’ Appleby was extremely impressed.
Hissey beamed. ‘I judge it to be not altogether without interest. In fact I am rather tempted to save it up.’
They were out in a sort of uncomfortable compromise between a vestibule and a lounge. Residential ladies, little palms, commercial travellers, a dull fire made a background as they passed. Over the way and a bit up the hill they would by now have shoved Pluckrose in an ambulance, a mortuary car, a van. Hissey, winding a scarf, still beamed. ‘Because I am hoping to put out a book.’
‘Really? I am sure people have been waiting for it a long time. What is it going to be called?’
Hissey shook his head; stopped to put on a rusty bowler hat; shook it again. ‘I find it difficult to make up my mind. But something quite simple will do. What do you think of just Annotatiunculae Criticae? ’
‘I think that would be excellent.’
Hissey, mildly happy, led the way into the night.
Professor Prisk held the chair of Romance Languages. But why, Appleby speculated, do professors have chairs? Why not desks? Or even boxes or bags? What Prisk ought really to have was a bag. He was using a sort of invisible bag now. It held what our Saxon forebears would have called his word-hoard. Prisk dipped into his invisible bag, drew out a word apparently at random, fingered it jealously for some minutes, returned it, and brought out another word. He was wholly absorbed in the contents of his invisible bag, so that Appleby thought he was rather like an ingeniously conceived allegory of miserliness. But clearly to have out and gloat over one’s word-hoard like this was a highly esteemed activity. Everybody listened to Prisk with
‘The Symposium?’
‘Of course it is quite the wrong word.’ Hissey laughed merrily. ‘It is quite the wrong word, I am sorry to say. Colloquium would undoubtedly be better. Nothing but coffee is provided.’ Hissey again dissolved in innocent mirth. ‘But perhaps there is something a shade pedantic about Colloquium. The word is scarcely in common English use.’
‘I suppose not.’ Appleby had just finished a chunk of blancmange and was feeling as one often does feel after dinner in small provincial hotels. ‘In fact distinctly not. Colloquium is a most pedantic word.’
‘No doubt you are right.’ Hissey was slightly wistful. The possibility of changing from Symposium to Colloquium was clearly a matter to which he gave a good deal of thought. Now he looked at his watch. ‘What worries me is our glass of port. You see, I have to take the chair, and so it is necessary that I should go. But perhaps you would care to come across too? I am sure everybody would be delighted that I should bring an old pupil of my own.’
‘You are very kind.’ Appleby was cautious. ‘Will the Vice-Chancellor be there?’
‘Evans? Dear me, no.’ Hissey looked quite shocked.
‘Or Professor Crunkhorn or Church?’
‘Neither of them, I judge.’
‘I should like to come, very much.’ There might be something, Appleby thought, in getting a representative section of the academic body of Nesfield within one coup d’oeil . Particularly if his own identity were not yet generally known.
‘This is most delightful!’ Hissey had risen nimbly from his chair. ‘I think you will enjoy it. There are likely to be one or two interesting things. Prisk has a further batch of notes on the place names of Provence. Young Marlow is bringing a tentative bibliographical analysis of the 1582 quarto of Mumblechance . Tavender will review some recent contributions to epigraphy…’
‘It sounds very interesting indeed. And I hope you are giving something yourself?’
Hissey was moving towards the door. He stopped and lowered his voice. ‘Well, as a matter of fact I did happen the other day upon something a little odd in Paley’s Theocritus–’
‘In Paley’s Theocritus!’ Appleby was extremely impressed.
Hissey beamed. ‘I judge it to be not altogether without interest. In fact I am rather tempted to save it up.’
They were out in a sort of uncomfortable compromise between a vestibule and a lounge. Residential ladies, little palms, commercial travellers, a dull fire made a background as they passed. Over the way and a bit up the hill they would by now have shoved Pluckrose in an ambulance, a mortuary car, a van. Hissey, winding a scarf, still beamed. ‘Because I am hoping to put out a book.’
‘Really? I am sure people have been waiting for it a long time. What is it going to be called?’
Hissey shook his head; stopped to put on a rusty bowler hat; shook it again. ‘I find it difficult to make up my mind. But something quite simple will do. What do you think of just Annotatiunculae Criticae? ’
‘I think that would be excellent.’
Hissey, mildly happy, led the way into the night.
Professor Prisk held the chair of Romance Languages. But why, Appleby speculated, do professors have chairs? Why not desks? Or even boxes or bags? What Prisk ought really to have was a bag. He was using a sort of invisible bag now. It held what our Saxon forebears would have called his word-hoard. Prisk dipped into his invisible bag, drew out a word apparently at random, fingered it jealously for some minutes, returned it, and brought out another word. He was wholly absorbed in the contents of his invisible bag, so that Appleby thought he was rather like an ingeniously conceived allegory of miserliness. But clearly to have out and gloat over one’s word-hoard like this was a highly esteemed activity. Everybody listened to Prisk with
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