Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

angry?’
    Jones
clutched his head. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted. ‘Catweazle,’ repeated Catweazle
calmly.
    Jones
leapt to his feet, beside himself with anger. ‘Stand up!’ he yelled. ‘Turn out
your pockets!’
    Catweazle
stood up, rather worried, and did as he was told. He took out a lump of chalk,
a stone with a hole in it, a half-eaten tube of tooth-paste, a mandrake root, a
rusty mouth organ and some curtain-rings. ‘No map?’ asked Jones faintly,
beginning to think that he had made a terrible mistake. ‘No compass?’
    ‘ ’Tis
all, save Touchwood,’ said Catweazle, taking the toad from his special pocket,
‘Thou wilt not harm him?’
    Jones
stared stupidly at the toad.
    ‘ ’Tis
my familiar,’ said Catweazle, ‘where is thine?’
    Jones
reached for the phone again. ‘This is Major Jones, sir,’ he said and then
turned away from Catweazle and lowered his voice. ‘I think we’ve made a bit of
an error, sir, with regard to this... er .. . spy.’
    ‘What
do you mean, Jones?’ replied Dickinson.
    ‘Well,
sir,’ said Jones, turning himself even further from Catweazle and whispering
into the phone. ‘I’m beginning to think we’ve picked up a real civilian by
mistake.’
    Then
Catweazle saw the grenade-box against thé wall and he reached out and opened
it. His eyes widened. The box contained the Divine Egg! The strange sorcerer
who was muttering into the telling-bone had found lots of them. Catweazle took
one out of the box and held it reverently.
    ‘He
could turn nasty about it, sir,’ continued Jones, still with his back to
Catweazle.
    ‘Don’t
be ridiculous,’ replied Dickinson irritably, ‘of course he’s a Blue Demon.’
    ‘But
he’s got a toad in his pocket, sir, and some curtain rings.’
    At
Headquarters, Dickinson turned to Lord Collingford and put his hand over the
mouthpiece. ‘Jones has cracked up, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Battle fatigue.’
    He
spoke into the phone again. ‘All right, Jones, I’m coming over.’
    As
Jones replaced his receiver he saw the grenade in Catweazle’s hand.
    ‘The
Divine Egg!’ said Catweazle, throwing it up in the air and catching it.
    Jones
put his fingers in his ears and drew back in his chair.
    ‘I knew
thou hadst it,’ said Catweazle, waving it at him.
    ‘Put it
down! Put it down!’ gabbled Jones, turning faintly green.
    ‘But
thou hast many!’
    Jones
could hardly speak. ‘Just put it down, will you?’ he said faintly.
    Catweazle
stood up and held it over his head. ‘Now shall I fly!’ he said loudly.
    Jones
took cover under the table and Catweazle peered at him in surprise. ‘Why dost
thou hide?’
    Jones
backed on his hands and knees. ‘Go away! Go away!’ he said hoarsely.
    ‘Ah!’
said Catweazle, ‘then I may keep thy mighty Stone of Power?’
    ‘Look,
mate,’ said Jones, trembling all over, ‘if you want to blow yourself up — do it
outside, will you?’ Catweazle was delighted. Blow himself up! Into the skies!
It was his dearest wish.
    ‘Jones!
Jones!’ called Lieutenant Colonel Dickinson as he approached the door.
Catweazle hid quickly behind it and when Dickinson opened it all he could see
was Major Jones, crouched under the table with his fingers in his ears.
    ‘Don’t
worry, Jones,’ said Dickinson gently. ‘It’s all over as far as you are
concerned.’
    ‘S... S...
Sir... sir... sir,’ stammered Jones.
    ‘I
know, lad. It’s been too much for you, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
Dickinson closed the door and then jumped away when he saw Catweazle standing
behind him with the grenade.
    ‘It’s
live, sir,’ said Jones, ‘and he’s as mad as a hatter.’ Dickinson backed round
the table. ‘Give me that grenade,’ he said.
    ‘ ’Tis
mine,’ said Catweazle, clutching it to him, ‘there is one for thee in the box.’
    ‘Come
on, there’s a good chap,’ said Dickinson, holding out his hand.
    ‘I
shall fly,’ said Catweazle, thinking of the power the
    Philosopher’s
Stone would give him. ‘I shall become invisible.’
    ‘We all
will if he pulls out the pin,’ muttered Jones under the table.
    ‘Shut
up, Jones!’ said Dickinson, who didn’t want the ragged maniac to get any ideas.
    ‘ ’Tis
the Divine Egg. Farewell,’ said Catweazle, raising it aloft, and Dickinson
joined Jones under the table.
    When
Catweazle ran outside, waving the grenade, a returning party of Green Demons
scattered instinctively.
    ‘Truly
I have the Power,’ he thought and capered off