Read More Deadly Than The Male for Free Online Page A
Authors: James Hadley Chase
suddenly lost the strength in his legs. "World-Wide Publishing Company," he muttered and wrote on his blotting paper. "All right, I'll remember that."
"I want you to remember it," Brant said. "I'm surprised that a man of your experience does not know who published the Child's Self-Educator. Have you a set you rself'?"
Mr Eccles looked up. "Who—me? No, I haven't. Now, look here, young man—"
"Then you will be glad to hear that you are going to be presented with a set. That's why we've come to see you."
"Presented with a set?" Mr Eccles repeated, his little eyes opening. "You mean given a set?"
"Certainly," Brant said, his hands on the desk. "We're anxious that every teacher should have a set of the CSE, but, for obvious reasons, it is not possible to give so many sets away. It has been decided, however, that the headmaster of the best school of each London borough is to be presented with our deluxe, half-calf edition, free, gratis and for nothing."
If Mr Eccles was surprised by this news, George was utterly flabbergasted.
"Well, 'pon my soul," Mr Eccles exclaimed, a sly smile lighting up his face. "Why didn't you say so before? Sit down, young man. I'm sorry I was so abrupt just now, but if you only knew how I'm pestered all day long, you'd appreciate I've got to do something to protect myself."
Brant drew up a chair and sat down. George, standing by the door, was forgotten.
"I understand, Mr Eccles," Brant went on, after a moment's pause, "that your children's handwriting is of an exceptionally high standard. Mr Pickthorn of Trinity School also boasts of a high standard. We are organizing a harmless competition between schools, and I suggest you might like to co-operate. All we need is a specimen of each of your pupils' handwriting, which will be sent to our head office, and the pupil with the best handwriting will be given a beautifully inscribed certificate and ten shillings. Mr Pickthorn has been happy to help us in this scheme, and we would like your pupils to compete against his. Whatever you decide, of course, will not influence my Company's decision to send you the CSE, which should reach you early next month."
"Pickthorn?" Mr Eccles snorted. "That old muddler! None of his brats can write. He's got no method. Why, in a competition, it'd be a walk over." He frowned down at his blotting pad. "I'd like to do it. 'Pon my word, I would. I'd like to wipe old Pickthorn's eye, but it'll disorganize my day. A thing like that'd need a bit of arranging."
Brant shifted in his chair. "It took less than ten minutes at Radlet's," he said quietly. "All you have to do is to get the children to write their names and addresses on a piece of paper, and we will judge their handwriting from that. It s a simple system, and we shall not need to bother you further, as we shall have the name and address of the prizewinner. Surely, that's not going to upset your school?"
Eccles looked a little blank. "Well, if that's all it is," he said doubtfully. "I suppose I could arrange that. All right, I'll do it. Will you call hack sometime tomorrow?"
Brant stared at him with bored eyes. "We have a lot of ground to cover, Mr Eccles. Could we wait? It shouldn't take a few minutes." He paused, and before Mr Eccles could speak, he went on, "By the way, I suppose you would like a bookcase for your set of the CSE? I think I could persuade the Company to part with one. It's a nice piece of furniture, light oak with glass panels."
Mr Eccles got to his feet. "Yes," he said, beaming, "that sounds magnificent. Hmm, yes, by all means." He rubbed his hands together. "Well now, you wait here and I'll get these kids to work. I'll be as quick as I can."
As soon as he left the room, George said, "Have you gone mad? What are you playing at? The Company doesn't give sets away, let alone bookcases. They don't even sell bookcases."
Brant stared at him in a bored, detached way. "He doesn't know that," he said, and his thin mouth
"I want you to remember it," Brant said. "I'm surprised that a man of your experience does not know who published the Child's Self-Educator. Have you a set you rself'?"
Mr Eccles looked up. "Who—me? No, I haven't. Now, look here, young man—"
"Then you will be glad to hear that you are going to be presented with a set. That's why we've come to see you."
"Presented with a set?" Mr Eccles repeated, his little eyes opening. "You mean given a set?"
"Certainly," Brant said, his hands on the desk. "We're anxious that every teacher should have a set of the CSE, but, for obvious reasons, it is not possible to give so many sets away. It has been decided, however, that the headmaster of the best school of each London borough is to be presented with our deluxe, half-calf edition, free, gratis and for nothing."
If Mr Eccles was surprised by this news, George was utterly flabbergasted.
"Well, 'pon my soul," Mr Eccles exclaimed, a sly smile lighting up his face. "Why didn't you say so before? Sit down, young man. I'm sorry I was so abrupt just now, but if you only knew how I'm pestered all day long, you'd appreciate I've got to do something to protect myself."
Brant drew up a chair and sat down. George, standing by the door, was forgotten.
"I understand, Mr Eccles," Brant went on, after a moment's pause, "that your children's handwriting is of an exceptionally high standard. Mr Pickthorn of Trinity School also boasts of a high standard. We are organizing a harmless competition between schools, and I suggest you might like to co-operate. All we need is a specimen of each of your pupils' handwriting, which will be sent to our head office, and the pupil with the best handwriting will be given a beautifully inscribed certificate and ten shillings. Mr Pickthorn has been happy to help us in this scheme, and we would like your pupils to compete against his. Whatever you decide, of course, will not influence my Company's decision to send you the CSE, which should reach you early next month."
"Pickthorn?" Mr Eccles snorted. "That old muddler! None of his brats can write. He's got no method. Why, in a competition, it'd be a walk over." He frowned down at his blotting pad. "I'd like to do it. 'Pon my word, I would. I'd like to wipe old Pickthorn's eye, but it'll disorganize my day. A thing like that'd need a bit of arranging."
Brant shifted in his chair. "It took less than ten minutes at Radlet's," he said quietly. "All you have to do is to get the children to write their names and addresses on a piece of paper, and we will judge their handwriting from that. It s a simple system, and we shall not need to bother you further, as we shall have the name and address of the prizewinner. Surely, that's not going to upset your school?"
Eccles looked a little blank. "Well, if that's all it is," he said doubtfully. "I suppose I could arrange that. All right, I'll do it. Will you call hack sometime tomorrow?"
Brant stared at him with bored eyes. "We have a lot of ground to cover, Mr Eccles. Could we wait? It shouldn't take a few minutes." He paused, and before Mr Eccles could speak, he went on, "By the way, I suppose you would like a bookcase for your set of the CSE? I think I could persuade the Company to part with one. It's a nice piece of furniture, light oak with glass panels."
Mr Eccles got to his feet. "Yes," he said, beaming, "that sounds magnificent. Hmm, yes, by all means." He rubbed his hands together. "Well now, you wait here and I'll get these kids to work. I'll be as quick as I can."
As soon as he left the room, George said, "Have you gone mad? What are you playing at? The Company doesn't give sets away, let alone bookcases. They don't even sell bookcases."
Brant stared at him in a bored, detached way. "He doesn't know that," he said, and his thin mouth