Robert Rankin - The Brightonomicon

'Robert Johnson met with an untimely death,' said Hubert. 'Murdered by a jealous husband, they say. Or perhaps the Devil claimed his own. Perhaps he always claims his own.' 'How old was Robert Johnson when he died?' I asked. 'Twenty-seven,' said Hubert. 'Thank God for that,' said Fangio. 'Thank God for what?' I said.

'Thank God it's five o'clock,' said Fangio. 'I can take off this muff-diver's helmet now.'

'And I have to get off,' said Hubert. 'I have this enormous Russian spaniel outside in my van that has to be delivered to Mister Rune.'

'Ah, yes,' I said, 'the Russian spaniel. I am really going to enjoy the Russian spaniel.' 'That's Thursdays,' said Fangio. 'Thursdays?' I said. 'Bestiality Theme Night.'

'We are off,' I said to Fangio. 'I doubt whether our paths will cross again. It has been a pleasure to know you.'

'Don't forget to mention me in Chapter Eight,' said the barlord. 'And don't forget your pillowcase.' I did not forget my pillowcase. I followed Hubert around to the rear of forty-nine Grand Parade, where he had parked his van. And here I maintained something of a low profile, for there were several parked police cars to be seen and a lot of that yellow 'POLICE – DO NOT CROSS' tape draped all around a taxicab that had apparently crashed into the dustbins. 'Wait here and I'll get the dog,' said Hubert. And he did so. It really was a very large dog, for a spaniel.

'It's grown a bit since I put it in the van,' said Hubert, struggling to drag it along. 'It's almost the size of a Shetland pony now. I wonder how big these things grow. I heard this story about a pig in Henfield once. It seems that-' 'Follow me,' I said, and I grinned as I said it. I turned the handle and then kicked open the door. Mr Rune looked up from his doings, which were playing 'Love in Vain' upon his reinvented ocarina.

'My dear Rizla,' he said, 'you have returned.' And he took out his gold pocket watch. 'And right on time to the very minute, as I predicted.' 'You charlatan!' I cried. 'I have found you out.' 'Indeed?' said Mr Rune. 'Indeed?' 'I have the Hound of the Hangletons with me.' 'Then the case is solved, as I also predicted.'

'There never was a case. This fellow here-' I encouraged Hubert into the room. 'This fellow here-' Hubert struggled to ease himself past the Russian spaniel '-stole the dog at your behest. You scoundrel. You fraud.' 'Scoundrel and fraud,' said Mr Rune. 'Harsh words.' 'And too good for you.' 'You're piddled again,' said Mr Rune.

'I am,' I said, 'and proud of the fact, for I have done it at your expense.'

'I knew that Fangio would sell my signed first edition,' said Mr Rune. 'I trust that you enjoyed the champagne that I had him lay down for a special occasion.' 'Actually, I did. He shared it with me.'

'Splendid,' said Mr Rune. 'You can return the hound now, Hubert. Oh – and take this.' Mr Rune rose and handed Hubert an envelope. 'What is that?' I asked.

'My bill,' said Mr Rune, 'for the Orions, for the recovery of their dog. Make sure you get the money in cash, Hubert; don't accept a cheque.' 'But you had Hubert steal the dog in the first place,' I said.

'I was not employed by the Orions to catch the thief, only to recover the dog for them. That has been done, and I am therefore entitled to my fee. I see no flaw in this reasoning, do you?' 'I…' I said. 'I…'

'And you have returned, as I predicted, within three hours to the very minute. And so you must honour the oath you swore upon leaving, that should you return to these rooms you would remain in my employ until all the cases are solved. You promised on your life, did you not?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Well, yes, but-'

'But me no buts,' said Mr Rune. 'Everything has gone exactly as I planned it. Let us now go together to The Pillow Biter's Elbow, as I believe it to be called at this time of the day, and celebrate our success: a found hound, a fat fee and a partnership that will lead one day to you making a fortune when you publish the book of our exploits. I'd end this chapter here, if I were you.' And so I did.

The Curious Case of " the Centenary Centaur The Centenary Centaur

I think that you might find this of interest,' said Mr Rune to me, as we sat a-breakfasting in our rooms at forty-nine Grand Parade upon a fine morning in April. 'Give me your considered opinion.' And he flung the morning's edition of the Argus in my direction.

My hands being occupied with cutlery, the newspaper fell into my breakfast, mashing the fried egg that I had been saving for last.

'Damn and blast it,' said I, putting down my knife and fork and plucking up the eggy newssheet.

'Front page,' said Mr Rune, availing himself of the last piece of toast.

I took the Argus and viewed the front page, and at once saw the headline printed there: HORRIBLE INCIDENT IN HANGLETON And what was printed below this? Police were called last night to a house in Tudor Close, Hangleton, when concerned neighbours gave the alarm. They had heard dogs howling repeatedly and although having knocked upon the front door, they had been unable to elicit any response from the tenants who were presently renting the property, a Mr and Mrs Orion. Fearing foul play, the officers of the law, once summoned, gained entry to the property by applying reasonable force to the front door with their helmets. They were ill prepared for the scene of horror that waited them. The house was literally alive with spaniels.

Constable Runstable, who was one of the first on the scene, told our reporter, "There were literally thousands of them, ranging from the size of a Shetland pony to that of a bluebottle. All identical – but for the size, of course.'

No trace whatsoever was found of the tenants. The police wish to contact Mr and Mrs Orion as soon as possible to help with their enquiries. The spaniels are being held in police custody. ' "From the size of a Shetland pony to that of a bluebottle"?' I quoted. 'Whatever is that all about?'

'I should have thought that to be perfectly obvious.' Mr Rune dipped the last bit of toast into my wounded egg. 'It was a Russian spaniel, after all.' 'You have lost me,' I said. 'And leave my egg alone.'

'The spaniel reached critical mass,' said Rune. 'Surely you've seen those sets of Russian dolls that fit inside each other? Such it is with Russian spaniels – a great big spaniel, with a lesser-sized spaniel within it and so on and so forth.'

'Ludicrous,' I said, drawing my breakfast plate beyond Mr Rune's reach and beating back his hand with the morning's Argus. 'And I suppose these spaniels get smaller and smaller for ever and ever.'

'Don't be absurd,' said Mr Rune. 'You can't divide things in half for ever.'

'Oh, I beg to differ there,' I said. 'Space is infinite; you can always multiply a distance by two and never come to the end of it. It therefore follows that you can similarly divide something in half for ever and ever and ever.'

'You can't,' said Mr Rune, 'because your diminishing object will eventually become so small that it will weigh less than the light which falls upon it, and then cease to exist in this dimension.' 'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I never knew that.' 'Nor did Einstein until I put him straight on the matter.' 'But what does it mean?'

'It means, young Rizla, that you should not take anything for granted. I am Rune, the physical manifestation of all astral possibilities. I knew from the first that we were dealing with no ordinary spaniel.' 'But you stole the spaniel!'

'Had it stolen. One does not own a dog and bark oneself. It is well to know your enemy, to gauge his strengths and weaknesses.' 'The spaniel was your enemy?'

'Not the spaniel. Tell me, Rizla, when we were there in that house at Hangleton, what observations did you make? Do you recall that I asked you to keep your eyes and ears open?'