The Eyeball Collector by F E Higgins Read Free Book Online

plight,
Sought shelter at a wayside inn
One dark and stormy night.
    “Nine rooms, no more,” the landlord said
“Have I to offer you,
To each of eight a single bed,
But the ninth must serve for two.”
    A din arose. The troubled host
Could only scratch his head,
For of those tired men no two
Would occupy one bed.
    The puzzled host was soon at ease –
He was a clever man –
And so to please his guests devised
This most ingenious plan.’
    The fellow stopped for a moment. ‘And this is the puzzle,’ he called up to Hector before concluding the rhyme:
    ‘Here I stop ’fore riddle’s end
To ask, young friend of mine,
How did that landlord please his guests,
And fit ten into nine?’
    Hector pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. Ten into nine? This was not a riddle he had come across. He would have expected it from his father, not from a member of this crowd. It wasn’t that southsiders lacked intelligence, but what intelligence they had was not necessarily suited to riddling.
    ‘I’ll need some time for this one,’ said Hector.
    ‘Take all the time you need. Tell me the answer when next we meet,’ came the reply.
    ‘When will that be?’ asked Hector. ‘Tomorrow?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ was all the stranger said, and, still obscured by the crowd, he began to walk away.
    The crowd was as curious as Hector. ‘So what is the answer?’ shouted up a regular.
    ‘ Tempus omnia revelat ,’ said Hector, reverting unthinkingly to his previous persona before realizing no one knew what he was talking about.
    ‘He means, Time will tell ,’ came a shout, and Hector just caught sight of the back of the mysterious riddler’s head as he disappeared down one of the alleys.
    ‘Yes, time will tell,’ he murmured.
    Now it was snowing. Sensing that riddling was over for today his audience moved away. Hector stepped down, the pennies clinking in his purse. Some, of course, would be given to Mrs Fitch, and the remainder he would keep for himself. He went to the nearest food stall and took shelter with a hot potato and a mug of mulled ale, lost in melancholy thoughts.
    In the six weeks since he had arrived at Fitch’s, summer – characterized by a rise in temperature and a proportional increase in strength of stench from the Foedus – was over and autumn, in this city merely a couple of weeks of cooler weather, was fast giving way to winter.
    It had been a difficult time for Hector but he had done his best to adjust to this radical change in lifestyle. There were twenty other boys at the home, all natives of the south side and all orphaned by Fate, often in the form of gin. The first morning at breakfast Hector was greeted with suspicion, as any newcomer would be. Then as soon as he spoke he was identified as a northerner and a fight immediately ensued. Hector fell at the second punch – he was no match for his tough streetwise housemates. As he lay on the floor wondering how he could possibly come out of this alive, he noticed through his rapidly swelling eye that one of the boys was wearing his coat and hat and another his boots and watch. Quick as a flash, he pulled out his cocoon and reminded them of that night when they had helped themselves to his belongings.
    As soon as Hector’s identity was established the leader (the same fellow from the night he had been robbed) called a halt to the conflict. The little lad, still wearing the cravat (now rather darker in colour than it had once been), helped Hector to his feet and begged him to retell the riddle of the liar for they all still failed to grasp the solution. Hector obliged, more than once, and henceforth was held in high regard as a fellow of learning and an entertainer. Polly’s belief in his survival instincts had been proved right. But he still had to find a way to get on outside the Home’s doors.
    Deducing early on in his stay at Fitch’s that the prevailing accent was basically a matter of dropped aitches and ripe expletives, Hector adjusted his own accent