CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Truth in the Well
A
t
the moment when Dr. Galley was conjuring Ashtaroth to appear, Mr. Campion was crouching in the hollowed-out centre of a bramble bush beneath the cedar tree talking to Lugg. The big man, looking even more unhappy than usual in his ear-phones, was expressing his views with his customary forthrightness.
“We’re askin’ for trouble,” he said, looking down at some six square feet of accumulator while storm and lightning played round him and his paraphernalia. “Askin’ for trouble,” he repeated. “If you want my views on this scheme of yours, it’s perishin’ awful.”
“I don’t,” said his master frankly. “Is Scatty ready?”
Mr. Lugg held up his hand. “ ’Ullo,” he said. “ ’Ere it comes. With these atmospherics it sounds like a vaudeville turn.”
He jerked a
