The Wrong Box Page #2

Mainly from fresh fruit, returning travellers and...

...hand towels in public places.

- 124?

- Yes.

Really?

I must make a note of that. Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Oh! Oh!

Listen to me, all you eggs. I met him!

I've finally met him!

Oh...

- Yes?

- It's Michael Finsbury again.

Oh... we mustn't make a habit of this.

People will begin to talk.

Oh, I fully agree.

It's just that...

I don't know where to send the telegraph.

Oh. Mrs Goodge's Boarding House...

Mrs Goodge's Boarding House...

...Flodden Road...

... Flodden Road...

...Bournemouth...

... Bournemouth...

- ... Hants.

... Hants.

Funny.

John! What are you doing? You're supposed

to be looking after Uncle Joseph.

Ah! Uncle Joseph. I knew there was somebody

I was supposed to be looking after.

Erm... I merely threw my body

across this young lady,

to protect her from the falling... thing.

You realise you made me drop my grebe?

Oh, I'm awfully sorry, Morris.

Come outside.

Oh, Mr John,

do you think he'll get me my notice?

Oh, don't worry. I'll take care of Mrs Goodge.

Tonight, then, at eight, behind the bandstand.

Oh, you insatiable creature!

John, I'm waiting!

You must control this obsession you have

for chambermaids and other girls of that class.

I try. Night and day, I try.

Oh, there you are, boys.

I was just about to take this telegraph

to your uncle.

Telegraph? From whom?

I don't know, Mr Morris.

Private matters are private with me.

I'll take it.

We must relive our madness tonight.

Ten o'clock, under the pier.

I'm coming, Cousin.

- What is it, Cousin?

- Look at that.

We're going to win!

We're going to win!

We're going to win! We're going to win!

We're going to win! We're going to win!

Later. Later. No time for celebration now.

Uncle!

Have you been smoking again, Uncle?

And you're in a draught. The window's open.

Well, shut it, and get his coat and things.

Uncle, dear, you're going out.

Going out? Well, that'll be jolly.

Yes, you're going to London.

London? Yes.

Now, where did I put it? Where is it?

Ah, here it is. Now, London.

Now, if you ascribe a number

to each letter of the alphabet,

beginning with A as one and B as two,

culminating with the letter Z as 26,

then the letters that compose the word London

add up to 74,

which, coincidentally, is my age.

- Lovely, Uncle. Now, read this.

- Yes. Get into your coat.

Why... Why this unseemly haste?

- Your brother is dying.

- What did you say?

What? Masterman? Masterman dying?

This must be the effect of the nutmeg tarts.

Nutmeg tarts!

At Harrow he lived on little else.

- Where are your gloves?

- I don't know.

I have for some time

been compiling exhaustive notes

on the peculiarities

of spices and herbs in common use,

and I have discovered

that it can be authoritatively proved

that the excessive indulgence in nutmeg

leads to hallucination and general debilitation.

Pepper, on the other hand,

in any form or variety, passes through the body

without any effect on the organs.

It has absolutely no value, nutritive or otherwise.

But, in the case of cinnamon or cloves...

- Uncle...

- Yes? You have a question?

Read your paper.

- Tontine!

- Lovely word!

- Tontine!

- A derivation from the name Lorenzo Tonti,

a banker of Neapolitan persuasion.

Read your paper, Uncle.

Morris, have you any idea how much it's worth?

Well over 100,000.

And we've earned every penny of it.

True, Cousin. True.

We've devoted our lives to him.

We were two little orphans.

We waited on him hand and foot.

It wasn't easy, keeping him alive.

Yes, it was difficult.

We kept him from the draughts.

We warmed his shoes before we put them on.

- We tucked him up in bed at night.

- Fed him every sort of tonic.

- Never thinking of ourselves.

- First in our hearts, first in our minds.

And now, after all these years...

he's gone.

He's gone?

You go that way.

- Excuse me, sir.

- Excuse you, sir?

Mannerless young pup! Ought to be in the Army.

I beg your pardon, sir.

I take it these seats are not reserved.

I see you are proficient

in the ancient and noble art of knitting.

I'm sure you know that examples of knitting,

much like your afghan there,

date back to the mainstream

of the Egyptian civilisation.

Ah, the avocational activities of man

are many and varied.

Some demand skill - yours, for instance.

Carpentry, or the playing of games

with balls of various sizes.

- Have you found him?

- No.

Come on, then. This way.

Some demand inspiration -

oil painting or the writing of epitaphs.

The rest of us, an uninspired lot, collect things.

My nephew, for instance...

...with whom I'm travelling... collects birds' eggs.

And I, for the last 63 years,

have been collecting facts.

- He seems safe enough.

- Yes.

What a joy it is to indulge in convivial

conversation with a fellow being, a kindred spirit.

This will prove the most amiable journey -

you pursuing your hobby and me mine.

"Bournemouth strangler escapes.

Large-scale murder hunt in three counties. "

Ah, murder and murderers.

I once gave an informal lecture on the subject.

I wonder if you're aware, sir, of the fact

that there is an increasing number

of unsolved murders every year.

Now, this fact I gleaned from a pamphlet

by the noted criminologist Sir Henry Stanhope -

whose own murder, I might add,

was never solved.

My word, sir,

I perceive we are travelling at a goodish rate.

You realise, sir, I state only facts, no opinions,

and this fascinates everyone I meet.

Oh, don't be alarmed.

I shall continue, but for the moment,

I must take my leave.

Next stop:
Basingstoke!

Basingstoke, next stop!

Er... Morris,

I may or may not be back in a moment.

Uncle, where are you going? Uncle!

- How dare you?

- My apologies. I'm looking for my uncle.

- Well, do I look like anybody's uncle?

- No, no. I'm terribly sorry.

- What do you make that out to be?

- What's that?

- 'Tain't, is it?

- It is, you know.

It's the 4.40 out of London!

It's the 4.50 out of Bournemouth!

Help me! Help me, somebody!

I think there's been an accident.

Fred...

- Yeah?

- We haven't heard the last of this.

Drag them out of the cab!

What's going on here, sir? Control yourself.

Look here! Stop all this damn rioting.

Now, look here, you men.

Dowse that fire in the baggage van.

Now, the children will arrange themselves

by height, and the women in alphabetical order.

Now, I want a couple of volunteers.

You and you. Now, follow me.

Get those bags down. Form a human chain.

Sir... I didn't lose my right eye in the Indian Mutiny

to have my left eye offended

by the youth of England

standing with their arses hanging out.

Dress yourself, sir. Dress yourself.

One of the most disgusting sights

I've ever seen. Dress yourself, sir.

You are, I suppose, aware of the fact

that accidents occur with more frequency

on standard-gauge railways?

Abigail? Abigail? Abigail?

Has anyone seen Abigail?

John! Come out of there at once.

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