“I never saw you nick that,” said Jim.

“It is a very pretty thing,” said John.

“And very deadly,” said the professor. “Place it upon my desk, John, please.”

John arose from his seat and did so. “Is it important?” he asked.

“Important?” Professor Slocombe smiled. “Your light-fingeredness may well have saved all of our lives.”

“Really?” said John. “Well, naturally …”

Professor Slocombe now began to laugh. “You do not have the faintest idea as to what you have here, do you, John?”

“Something valuable, I think.”

“Something beyond value. You will recall what I told you about the raising of Cthulhu, regarding the Eye of Utu?”

John nodded.

“This,” said Professor Slocombe, “is the Eye of Utu.”

The metal shutter slid aside and an eyeball peered in through the eyehole and into the prison cell.

Where Norman sat, the very picture of dejection.

“On your feet, prisoner,” called the voice of Constable Meek. “You’re going home.”

Norman dragged himself to his feet, which wasn’t easy, for his knees were still numb and his finger-ends likewise. Constable Meek dragged open the door and grinned upon the slammed-up shopkeeper.

“Peg?” said Norman. “Has Peg bailed me out?”

“No,” said the constable. “Some big swell from the city.”

Norman shook his bewigged, befuddled head. “I don’t know any big city swells.”

“Well, he knows you and he’s outside in his car. You’re being chauffeured home.”

“Oh,” said Norman. “It’s a long straight road that has no turning.”

“Yeah, and a trouble shared can get you five years in Strangeways.”

Norman took up his jacket from the bed and shrugged it on.

“Normally,” said Constable Meek, “myself and Constable Mild would give you a summary beating with our truncheons to teach you the error of your ways and to discourage you from further wrong-doing, but Constable Mild has the day off and it’s no fun doing it on your own.” Constable Meek handed Norman his duffel bags. “Go forth and sin no more,” he told him.

The Sunday sunlight was bright to Norman’s eyes as he left the confines of the Brentford Nick. He did a bit of blinking and a car beeped at him.

Norman looked towards the car that stood at the kerbside. It was a very posh-looking car, very long and shiny-black. An electric window in its rear compartment swished down.

“Mr Hartnel?” called a voice, and a posh voice it was. “Mr Norman Hartnel, not to be confused with the other Norman Hartnel?”

“That’s me,” said Norman.

A long rear door swung open. “Please step inside,” called the voice.

Norman shrugged and did so. The door swung shut behind him. “Electric door,” said Norman, much impressed.

“Please sit yourself down, Mr Hartnel.”

Norman sat himself down upon a comfy seat upholstered with the skin of some endangered species.

“Comfy seat,” said Norman, patting same. “Thank you very much.”

“My card.” A gloved hand passed a business card to Norman. Norman took the card and smiled towards the owner of the hand. He was a most impressive figure – clearly tall, although sitting down, young and with striking features. He had a head of the blondest hair and eyes of the deepest blue and when he smiled he showed off teeth that really were the whitest of whites.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” said this fellow, now putting forward his gloved hand for a shake.

Norman shook it. “I don’t understand,” said he.

“Patents,” said the fellow in his very posh voice. “You have recently registered five original patents.”

“Yes,” said Norman proudly. “Yes, I have.”

“And these were entirely your own work?”

“Well,” said Norman guardedly, “I think you’ll find that no one has registered them before. But how did you know about this?”

“My company,” said the gentleman, “deals in acquisitions. We acquire patents and develop new products. We developed Blu-Tack, Velcro and the jumbo jet. Not to mention the Octotron.”

“The Octotron?” asked Norman.

“I told you not to mention that.”[29]

“Sorry,” said Norman.

“All new patents go into a government database, and my company is privy to that database. I had some difficulty in locating you. I called at your address. Your wife – Peg, is it?”

Norman nodded dismally.

“She told me that you were incarcerated. She didn’t seem to know anything about your patents. She was most surprised when I informed her.”

Norman groaned.

“Are you all right?” asked the gentleman. “Would you care for some champagne?”

“Yes, please,” said Norman.

The gentleman tapped buttons upon a little keypad arrangement on his seat arm. A cocktail cabinet slid out from somewhere and opened. The gentleman took from it a bottle of vintage Krug and popped the cork. Then he poured out two full glasses and handed one to Norman.

“Bottoms up,” said the shopkeeper, downing champagne.

“To you,” said the gentleman, sipping his.

“So you want to buy my patents?” said Norman. “They’re worth a great deal of money, I know that.”

“A very great deal,” said the gentleman. “You will be a very wealthy man.”

“I’d quite like a car like this,” said Norman. “What would one of these cost, do you think?”

“I’ll let you have this one, if you’d like it.”

“Wow,” said Norman.

“I have contracts already drawn up, if you’d care to peruse them.”

“I certainly would.” Norman finished his champagne. “The bubbles go right up your nose, don’t they?” he said. “Could I have some more?”

“Help yourself to the bottle.”

“Thank you very much indeed.”

The gentleman took papers from a glossy executive case and passed these to Norman. Norman put down the champagne bottle and perused the papers. “That is a good many papers to peruse,” said he.

“You will no doubt want a solicitor to look through them.”

“Oh,” said Norman.

“Oh?” said the gentleman.

“Well,” said Norman, “naturally I assumed that you were intending to ply me with champagne in order to get me to sign away my patents for peanuts because I’d failed to look at the small print.”

“You are most astute, Mr Hartnel.”

“Not really,” said Norman. “It’s just what always happens in the movies.”

“More champagne?”

“Yes, please.” Norman took up the bottle once more and refilled his glass.

Professor Slocombe refilled John Omally’s glass. “This puts us in a far more powerful position,” said he. “William Starling called me, using this defunct telephone to impress me with his powers, but he called me. I deduce from this that he believes that I dispatched you two to his headquarters upon a mission to purloin the Eye of Utu, a mission that you successfully accomplished. We now have a certain degree of bargaining power.”

“Destroy it,” said Jim. “It is in your hand, Professor. If it is as powerful as you say, and as valuable to them, grind it to smithereens.”

“Tempting as that is, Jim, I do not feel that by doing so we would benefit.”

“Well, you can’t just give it back to him,” said John.

“A deal might be struck. But, as is said, he who dines with the Devil must do so with a very long fork.”

“Probably said by Norman,” said John.

“It’s us,” said the suddenly enlightened Jim. “You’re going to bargain with him – the Eye in return for him making no further attempts upon our lives.”

“It seems the most logical thing to do,” said the professor. “I involved you in this, so I must do whatever I can to protect you.”

“But how can you trust him?” asked Jim. “If he gives you his word, how will you know whether he will keep it?”

“The Brotherhood of Magic,” said Professor Slocombe, “whether white or black, exists within a certain framework. There are rules to every game, rules that must be obeyed. A magical oath, once sworn, cannot be broken, save at the great expense of he that breaketh it.”