Catweazle

pointed to the thunder stick.
    The
colonel was astounded. Why on earth did Wheeler want him to shoot his pet? ‘But
there’s nothing wrong with him!’ he said, putting the monkey in the cage.
    ‘There
you are, Boy,’ he said, coming out of the cage and carefully shutting the door.
‘What makes you think he’s not himself?’ he asked Catweazle.
    Catweazle
was regretting everything. He had hoped this sorcerer would help him. But
instead of changing the young wizard back again, he had imprisoned him, and
clearly intended to leave him in his devilish form.
    ‘Sit down
old chap,’ said the colonel. ‘So glad you could come,’ he continued, pouring a
glass of wine for Catweazle. ‘The skin off your nose,’ he said cheerfully.
    Catweazle
grabbed his nose. The skin was still there. He sniffed at the wine, in case it
was poisoned.
    ‘I can
see you like a good claret,’ said the colonel, ‘Château Margot, ’59,’
    ‘Shattow
Margow Fifty-nine,’ said Catweazle repeating what he took to be a spell.
Slowly, as he drank the wine, an expression of bliss spread over his gnarled
face. He had never tasted anything as good before. So this was what the
sorcerers drank in this strange new world! He swallowed the wine happily and
eagerly held out his glass for more while Colonel Upshaw talked on and on about
Africa. At last Catweazle had drunk nearly three bottles of claret. As fast as
Colonel Upshaw filled his glass, Catweazle drank it, and as he drank, he became
more and more belligerent until with a truculent glare, he picked up the lid of
a tureen in one hand and the carving knife in the other and menaced the colonel
with them.
    ‘Release
the boy!’ demanded Catweazle, weaving unsteadily.
    ‘Now,
now, old chap,’ said Colonel Upshaw, somewhat taken aback, ‘stop foolin’ about.
Boy’s all right where he is.’
    ‘Release
him!’ said Catweazle, waving the carving knife.
    ‘Ha,
ha,’ laughed the colonel, nervously. ‘Put it down, there’s a good fellow.’
    ‘Thou
saucer-eyed pig’s bladder!’ shouted Catweazle making a sudden lunge.
    ‘Coote!
Coote!’ called Colonel Upshaw, suddenly panicking. ‘Wheeler’s run amok!’
    ‘Call
thy witch!’ cried Catweazle recklessly. ‘Thou hast no power over me!’
    ‘You’ve
taken too much on board,’ said the colonel.
    ‘Thou
bodkin!’ said Catweazle as Miss Coote appeared.
    ‘He’s
fighting drunk,’ warned the colonel.
    Catweazle
staggered as the walls seemed to spin round him.
    ‘I am
bewitched,’ he cried, dropping the carver with a clatter.
    ‘Look
out, Colonel!’ screamed Miss Coote.
    Catweazle
gave a strange cry, rolled his eyes upwards and passed out with a thump at the
colonel’s feet.
    ‘Kept
on about wantin’ to shoot Boy,’ said the colonel. ‘Couldn’t make it out,
Coote.’
    ‘He
seemed very unbalanced to me,’ said Miss Coote, gazing down at the inert
figure.
    ‘Africa
does something to a chap, you know,’ said Colonel Upshaw winding up his ancient
gramophone and putting on a very old record of the massed bands of the
Grenadier Guards.
    Catweazle
remained unconscious on the conservatory floor all afternoon. He was still
asleep when Mr Bennet and Carrot arrived.
    Miss
Coote ushered them into the sitting-room.
    ‘George!
Teddy!’ said Colonel Upshaw enthusiastically. ‘Nice of you to come. I’m afraid
Wheeler’s out at the moment.’
    ‘Out?’
queried Mr Bennet.
    ‘Out
cold, George. In there,’ and he pointed to the adjoining conservatory. ‘Very
good year, the ’59,’ he added dryly.
    ‘It
must be,’ smiled Mr Bennet. ‘Did you find your monkey by the way?’
    ‘Yes,
well, that was a bit extraordinary,’ said the colonel, ‘because Wheeler brought
him back.’
    ‘Could
I see him. The monkey I mean,’ said Carrot.
    ‘I suppose
so,’ said the colonel. ‘Don’t wake Mr Wheeler though. He’d better sleep it
off.’
    Carrot
went into the conservatory and tip-toed to the cage. The door was open and he
went inside, but the monkey was nowhere to be seen. Hearing a loud snoring
snuffle Carrot looked round at the prostrate figure on the floor.
    ‘Catweazle!’
he gasped in a hoarse whisper.
    The old
magician opened his eyes. Standing in the cage, and quite his former self,
stood the young sorcerer.
    ‘Thou
hast changed! Thou hast changed!’ said Catweazle with wonder.
    ‘Well,
I thought I’d better,’ said Carrot, who was wearing a suit in honour of
Nathaniel Wheeler. ‘What are you doing here?