Free The Lunatic's Curse by F E Higgins Page A

the two men greeted each other – not necessarily as old friends, more as two people who knew that their relationship was always beneficial,
each in his own way to the other. It worked like this. Tibor declared the prisoners insane and Melvyn seized their assets – as he was legally allowed to do to pay for their treatment, an
insane prisoner being considered far more expensive than a sane one and incapable of managing their own finances – and they split the money. As for the prisoner, mad or not, he was left to
his own devices in the cells below. A simple yet very rewarding plan.
    ‘My dear Dr Velhildegildus, how are you?’ asked Melvyn enthusiastically. As usual the conversation went no further without first a brandy and light refreshment: today honeyed figs
with cream, in sharp contrast to the meagre slabs of cold porridge being served down below.
    ‘So,’ asked Tibor, ‘what news, my friend?’
    ‘Ah, well, something very exciting,’ replied Halibutte, rubbing his fat hands together.
    ‘I should hope so too,’ murmured Tibor, and he couldn’t help but glance down at his muddy shoes. They had been gleaming when he left the house. Not any longer.
    ‘Well, it concerns a fellow, a filthy vagrant, who was picked up last night. He is, needless to say, completely mad. Despite this, he is perfectly happy but most insistent that he has
something of great interest to impart. He says that he heard about you in the taverns and has refused to discuss the matter with anyone else.’
    Tibor was vaguely flattered that his reputation was abroad but this was countered by the fact that this particular admirer appeared to be a genuine southside lunatic.
    ‘I fail yet to see how this was worth my journey,’ said Tibor with a smile.
    ‘I do understand what hardship it is for you,’ laughed Melvyn, and he looked down at Tibor’s shoes. ‘But in this life everything has its compensations.’
    Tibor was growing impatient. ‘But if this fellow would not say anything then how did you know he was worth listening to?’
    In answer Melvyn went to his desk and unlocked a drawer. He took out a red velvet drawstring pouch and opened the neck. He held it out to Tibor who leaned over to look inside. Instantly a broad
smile crossed his face.
    ‘Oh my,’ he said softly. ‘Oh my.’
    ‘He says there are more,’ whispered Melvyn, and he tittered excitedly.
    ‘This man is definitely worth talking to,’ said Tibor.
    For in the pouch were two delicate, glittering diamonds.
    By the time Tibor and Melvyn Halibutte reached the new prisoner’s cell door Tibor was in a state of great discomfort and regret. He had covered his face with his
handkerchief as soon as they had descended to the cells. The smell was indescribable. Literally. Try as he might, Tibor could not think of a single word that adequately expressed the aroma of the
place. It was nothing less than a physical assault. Melvyn also had a handkerchief over his face but he seemed rather less affected. It was not that he was immune to the smell, just more used to
it. He beckoned to Tibor to come over.
    Tibor, adjusting his handkerchief, croaked, ‘Could we not have brought him up to see us?’
    Halibutte frowned. ‘Now, Tibor,’ he said, ‘do you really think I would allow one of these fellows in my office? Think of the fleas!’
    Tibor examined his dire surroundings and realized immediately the stupidity of his question. The prison cells were as Mars is to Earth when compared to Halibutte’s refined quarters; where
one had a thick plush carpet upon which to tread, the other had only a layer of straw, dead mice and foul-smelling mould. Where one was light and airy and pleasing to the spirit, the other was dark
and claustrophobic and soul-destroying.
    As he followed the governor into the bowels of the prison, Tibor also had to endure the taunts and shouts and, once or twice, the saliva of a multitude of prisoners who had nothing left to lose.
Most were on their way