The Priory of Finchelsea, XXII
Dr. Barton watched the TV screen with increasing horror and annoyance. According to the vapid-sounding TV reporter, Police were seeking Dr. Lilian Barton in connection with the murder of Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones in the Church of Christ the King, Gordon Square. They showed an official photograph of her looking smart in a dark suit. That meant, she thought, that she'd have to wear her research clothes, which consisted of a scruffy pair of jeans and a faded olive green t-shirt. At least they were comfortable.
"You're a wanted fugitive," Sir Richard remarked. Lil groaned.
"Not again! I've only just got over the last time it happened! I keep telling people I'm not a murderer, or a thief, or a spy, or a clandestine associate of Al Mohler, but they won't believe me!"
"They would if you were actually present, lass. After all, you're so appealing, so sweet..."
"You're married." she shot back. "You're also far too old for me."
"I know. In any case, you're not my type."
"I'm exactly the same 'type' as your wife, as you well know."
"True, lass, true. Well, no doubt we shall be able to clear your name, as we were last time."
"Yes, but last time it was a plagirism charge from a Harvard Professor. This is rather different."
"No more different, lass, from that time you were facing that bloke who claimed to be the Antichrist. As I remember, he was about to obliterate New York with an atom bomb he had stolen from an Army, and he had convinced the New York Police that you had murdered a dozen people with a flamethrower. But you came through."
"Sure I came through," Lil sighed. "And Mr. Antichrist fell to his death from the top of the Empire State building. But this is kind of different."
"Symbols," the voice, that of an elderly old Etonian, came from the doorway. Looking, Lil and Sir Richard saw a man standing there. He wore a velvet smoking jacket and black trousers, his face was rather red, and his head mostly bald.
"Ah! Sir Teabag!" Arcos cried jovially. This is Dr. Lilian P. Barton, Professor of Symbology at St. Luke's College, Wymondham, and a wanted fugitive. Her friends call her Lil."
"Ah! You're the woman they want for bumping off that old bore Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones in the Church of Christ the King, Gordon Square! Is she not guilty, Arcos, or did she do it on your orders?"
"Not guilty, old lad. Now, we've discovered that Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones was in fact a member of the Priory of Finchelsea..."
"Aha!" Sir Teabag Sumner's eyes lit up in excitement. "The Priory of Finchlesea! Let me tell you what that is..."
Lil hoped it would be worth hearing.
"You're a wanted fugitive," Sir Richard remarked. Lil groaned.
"Not again! I've only just got over the last time it happened! I keep telling people I'm not a murderer, or a thief, or a spy, or a clandestine associate of Al Mohler, but they won't believe me!"
"They would if you were actually present, lass. After all, you're so appealing, so sweet..."
"You're married." she shot back. "You're also far too old for me."
"I know. In any case, you're not my type."
"I'm exactly the same 'type' as your wife, as you well know."
"True, lass, true. Well, no doubt we shall be able to clear your name, as we were last time."
"Yes, but last time it was a plagirism charge from a Harvard Professor. This is rather different."
"No more different, lass, from that time you were facing that bloke who claimed to be the Antichrist. As I remember, he was about to obliterate New York with an atom bomb he had stolen from an Army, and he had convinced the New York Police that you had murdered a dozen people with a flamethrower. But you came through."
"Sure I came through," Lil sighed. "And Mr. Antichrist fell to his death from the top of the Empire State building. But this is kind of different."
"Symbols," the voice, that of an elderly old Etonian, came from the doorway. Looking, Lil and Sir Richard saw a man standing there. He wore a velvet smoking jacket and black trousers, his face was rather red, and his head mostly bald.
"Ah! Sir Teabag!" Arcos cried jovially. This is Dr. Lilian P. Barton, Professor of Symbology at St. Luke's College, Wymondham, and a wanted fugitive. Her friends call her Lil."
"Ah! You're the woman they want for bumping off that old bore Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones in the Church of Christ the King, Gordon Square! Is she not guilty, Arcos, or did she do it on your orders?"
"Not guilty, old lad. Now, we've discovered that Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones was in fact a member of the Priory of Finchelsea..."
"Aha!" Sir Teabag Sumner's eyes lit up in excitement. "The Priory of Finchlesea! Let me tell you what that is..."
Lil hoped it would be worth hearing.
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