Hanson shrugged. ‘They won’t bother now. They know you’re a tougher proposition than some of the people they’ve been pushing around. Forget the whole thing.’
‘But I don’t want to forget it. I want the hearing to take place. Damn it, I deliberately invented the whole business of the fte to force them to show their hand. Now they’re furiously back-pedalling.’
‘Well, what of it? Relax, they have their difficulties too.’ He gave a laugh. ‘You never know, they’d probably be only too glad of an invitation now.’
‘They won’t get one. You know, I almost feel they’ve outwitted me. When the fte doesn’t take place everyone will assume I’ve given in to them.’
‘But it will take place. Haven’t you seen Boardman recently? He’s going great guns, obviously it’ll be a tremendous show. Be careful he doesn’t cut you out.’
Puzzled, Renthall turned from the window. ‘Do you mean Boardman’s going ahead with it?’
‘Of course. It looks like it anyway. He’s got a big marquee over the car park, dozens of stalls, bunting everywhere.’
Renthall drove a fist into his palm. ‘The man’s insane!’ He turned to Hanson. ‘We’ve got to be careful, something’s going on. I’m convinced the Council are just biding their time, they’re deliberately letting the reins go so we’ll overreach ourselves. Have you seen all these people on the roof-tops? Sun-bathing!’
‘Good idea. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all along?’
‘Not so blatantly as this.’ Renthall pointed to the nearest watch-tower. The windows were sealed, but the light reflected off them was far brighter than usual. ‘Sooner or later there’ll be a short, sharp reaction. That’s what the Council are waiting for.’
‘It’s nothing to do with the Council. If people want to sit on the roof whose business is it but their own? Are you coming to lunch?’
‘In a moment.’ Renthall stood quietly by the window, watching Hanson closely. A possibility he had not previously envisaged crossed his mind. He searched for some method of testing it. ‘Has the gong gone yet? My watch has stopped.’
Hanson glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It’s twelve-thirty.’ He looked out through the window towards the clock tower in the distance over the Town Hall. One of Renthall’s long-standing grievances against his room was that the tip of the nearby watch-tower hung directly over the clock-face, neatly obscuring it. Hanson nodded, re-setting his watch. ‘Twelve-thirty-one. I’ll see you in a few minutes.’
After Hanson had gone Renthall sat on the bed, his courage ebbing slowly, trying to rationalize this unforeseen development.
The next day he came across his second case.
Boardman surveyed the dingy room distastefully, puzzled by the spectacle of Renthall hunched up in his chair by the window.
‘Mr Renthall, there’s absolutely no question of cancelling it now. The fair’s as good as started already. Anyway, what would be the point?’
‘Our arrangement was that it should be a fte,’ Renthall pointed out. ‘You’ve turned it into a fun-fair, with a lot of stalls and hurdy-gurdies.’
Unruffled by Renthall’s schoolmasterly manner, Boardman scoffed. ‘Well, what’s the difference? Anyway, my real idea is to roof it over and turn it into a permanent amusement park. The Council won’t interfere. They’re playing it quiet now.’
‘Are they? I doubt it.’ Renthall looked down into the garden. People sat about in their shirt sleeves, the women in floral dresses, evidently oblivious of the watch-towers filling the sky a hundred feet above their heads. The haze had receded still further, and at least two hundred yards of shaft were now visible. There were no signs of activity from the towers, but Renthall was convinced that this would soon begin.
‘Tell me,’ he asked Boardman in a clear voice. ‘Aren’t you frightened of the watch-towers?’
Boardman seemed puzzled. ‘The what towers?’ He made a spiral motion with his cigar. ‘You mean the big slide? Don’t worry, I’m not having one of those, nobody’s got the energy to climb all those steps.’
He stuck his cigar in his mouth and ambled to the door. ‘Well, so long, Mr Renthall. I’ll send you an invite.’
Later that afternoon Renthall went to see Dr Clifton in his room below. ‘Excuse me, Doctor,’ he apologized, ‘but would you mind seeing me on a professional matter?’
‘Well, not here, Renthall, I’m supposed to be off-duty.’ He turned from his canary cages by the window with a testy frown, then relented when he saw Renthall’s intent expression. ‘All right, what’s the trouble?’
While Clifton washed his hands Renthall explained. ‘Tell me, Doctor, is there any mechanism known to you by which the simultaneous hypnosis of large groups of people could occur? We’re all familiar with theatrical displays of the hypnotist’s art, but I’m thinking of a situation in which the members of an entire small community — such as the residents of the hotels around this crescent — could be induced to accept a given proposition completely conflicting with reality.’
