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.’
Clifton stopped washing his hands. ‘I thought you wanted to see me professionally. I’m a doctor, not a witch doctor. What are you planning now, Renthall? Last week it was a fte, now you want to hypnotize an entire neighbourhood, you’d better be careful.’
Renthall shook his head. ‘It’s not I who want to carry out the hypnosis, Doctor. In fact I’m afraid the operation has already taken place. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed anything strange about your patients?’
‘Nothing more than usual,’ Clifton remarked dryly. He watched Renthall with increased interest. ‘Who’s responsible for this mass hypnosis?’ When Renthall paused and then pointed a forefinger at the ceiling Clifton nodded sagely. ‘I see. How sinister.’
‘Exactly. I’m glad you understand, Doctor.’ Renthall went over to the window, looking out at the sunshades below. He pointed to the watch-towers. ‘Just to clarify a small point, Doctor. You do see the watch-towers?’
Clifton hesitated fractionally, moving imperceptibly towards his valise on the desk. Then he nodded: ‘Of course.’
‘Good. I’m relieved to hear it.’ Renthall laughed. ‘For a while I was beginning to think that I was the only one in step. Do you realize that both Hanson and Boardman can no longer see the towers? And I’m fairly certain that none of the people down there can or they wouldn’t be sitting in the open. I’m convinced that this is the Council’s doing, but it seems unlikely that they would have enough power—’ He broke off, aware that Clifton was watching him fixedly. ‘What’s the matter? Doctor!’
Clifton quickly took his prescription pad from his valise. ‘Renthall, caution is the essence of all strategy. It’s important that we beware of over-hastiness. I suggest that we both rest this afternoon. Now, these will give you some sleep—’ For the first time in several days he ventured out into the street. Head down, angry for being caught out by the doctor, he drove himself along the pavement towards Mrs Osmond, determined to find at least one person who could still see the towers. The streets were more crowded than he could remember for a long time and he was forced to look upward as he swerved in and out of the ambling pedestrians. Overhead, like the assault craft from which some apocalyptic air-raid would be launched, the watch-towers hung down from the sky, framed between the twin spires of the church, blocking off a vista down the principal boulevard, yet unperceived by the afternoon strollers.
Renthall passed the caf, surprised to see the terrace packed with coffee-drinkers, then saw Boardman’s marquee in the cinema car park. Music was coming from a creaking wurlitzer, and the gay ribbons of the bunting fluttered in the air.
Twenty yards from Mrs Osmond’s he saw her come through her front door, a large straw hat on her head.
‘Charles! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you for days, I wondered what was the matter.’
Renthall took the key from her fingers and pushed it back into the lock. Closing the door behind them, he paused in the darkened hall, regaining his breath.
‘Charles, what on earth is going on? Is someone after you? You look terrible, my dear. Your face—’
‘Never mind my face.’ Renthall collected himself, and led the way into the living room. ‘Come in here, quickly.’ He went over to the window and drew back the blinds, ascertained that the watch-tower over the row of houses opposite was still there. ‘Sit down and relax. I’m sorry to rush in like this but you’ll understand in a minute.’ He waited until Mrs Osmond settled herself reluctantly on the sofa, then rested his palms on the mantelpiece, organizing his thoughts.
‘The last few days have been fantastic, you wouldn’t believe it, and to cap everything I’ve just made myself look the biggest possible fool in front of Clifton. God, I could—’
‘Charles—!’
‘Listen! Don’t start interrupting me before I’ve begun, I’ve got enough to contend with. Something absolutely insane is going on everywhere, by some freak I seem to be the only one who’s still compos men tis. I know that sounds as if I’m completely mad, but in fact it’s true. Why, I don’t know; though I’m frightened it may be some sort of reprisal directed at me. However.’ He went over to the window. ‘Julia, what can you see out of that window?’