Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [57]
An hour later William sat in his room at the Pension Dressler and began his despatch to the Beast. From the main street a short distance away could be heard sounds of rejoicing from the populace. President Jackson had been found, locked in the woodshed. Now, dazed and stiff, he was being carried shoulder-high about the city; other processions had formed about other members of the liberated family. Now and then rival processions met and came to blows. Mr. Popotakis had boarded up his caf�ut several Indian drink shops had been raided and the town was settling down to a night of jollity.
PRESS COLLECT URGENT MAN CALLED MISTER BALDWIN HAS BOUGHT COUNTRY...William began. "No," said a gentle voice behind him. "If you would not resent my co-operation, I think I can compose a despatch more likely to please my good friend Copper." Mr. Baldwin sat at William's table and drew the typewriter towards himself. He inserted a new sheet of paper, tucked up his cuffs and began to write with immense speed:�
MYSTERY FINANCIER RECALLED EXPLOITS RHODES LAWRENCE TODAY SECURING VAST EAST AFRICAN CONCESSION BRITISH INTERESTS IN TEETH ARMED OPPOSITION BOLSHEVIST SPIES...
"It will make about five full columns," he said, when it was finished. "From my experience of newspapers, I think I can safely say that they will print it in full. I am afraid we are too late for tomorrow's paper, but there is no competition to fear. Perhaps I shall have the felicity of finding you as my fellow traveller on the return journey." The sounds of rejoicing drew nearer and rose to a wild hubbub in the lane outside. "Dear me," said Mr. Baldwin. "How disconcerting. I believe they have found me out." But it was only General Gollancz Jackson being pulled about the town in his motor-car. The bare feet pattered away in the darkness. The cries of acclamation faded. A knock on the door... Cuthbert reported that, in view of the disturbed state of the town, he had taken the liberty of bringing his master's sheets to the Pension Dressler and making up a bed for him there. "You did quite right, Cuthbert...And now, if you will forgive me, I will say good night. I have had an unusually active day."
Book Three
BANQUET
chapter 1
The Bells of St. Bride's chimed unheard in the customary afternoon din of the Megalopolitan building. The country edition had gone to bed; below traffic-level, in grotto-blue light, leagues of paper ran noisily through the rollers; overhead, where floor upon floor rose from the dusk of the streets to the clear air of day, ground-glass doors opened and shut; figures in frayed and perished braces popped in and out; on a hundred lines reporters talked at cross-purposes; sub-editors busied themselves with their humdrum task of reducing to blank nonsense the sheaves of misinformation which whistling machines piled before them; beside a hundred typewriters soggy biscuits lay in a hundred tepid saucers. At the hub and still centre of all this animation, Lord Copper sat alone in splendid tranquillity. His massive head, empty of thought, rested in sculptural fashion upon his left fist. He began to draw a little cow on his writing pad. Four legs with cloven feet, a ropey tail, swelling udder and modestly diminished teats, a chest and head like an Elgin marble � all this was straightforward stuff. Then came the problem � which was the higher, horns or ears? He tried it one way, he tried it the other; both looked equally unconvincing; he tried different types of ear � tiny, feline triangles, asinine tufts of hair and gristle, even, in desperation, drooping flaps remembered from a guinea-pig in the backyard of his earliest home; he tried different types of horn