The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum

Chapter 17 ~ Magnetron and Aftermath

"Hawkshaw was exploding with a passionate wrathfulness. 'Do you hear me? I hereby arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania!'"

Dr. Hogalum and the Caelestis were nearly out of pistol range when Satyros exclaimed, "Hey Presto!"  Perhaps one thousandth of one second elapsed between this theatrical ejaculation and the appearance—seemingly from thin air—of a large bouquet of carnations directly in front of Constable Hawkshaw's face.  Another millisecond later, the constable finally succeeded in overcoming the intractable action on Coburn's revolver, firing wildly.  He threw down the weapon and grabbed his own from Coburn, whose hands were going limp in preparation for a great whooping belly laugh.  Hawkshaw emptied every chamber in rapid-fire futility as the Caelestis continued her ascent into the heavens.

"Damn, damn, damn!  You are all under arrest!"  Hawkshaw was exploding with a passionate wrathfulness.  "Do you hear me?  I hereby arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania!"

Valkusian held forth at this critical juncture, smiling thinly and emitting mellifluous streams of mollifying fiddle-faddle, transfixing the constable in a gossamer mental snare.  "You are angry at us, yes?  Why do you not tell us why, hmmm?"

"Because you wouldn't shut up!  You-you-you were obstructing justice!  You-you-you—"

"Come now, Constable, Atticus has already explained our over-enthusiasm, has he not?  We have all been as helpful as we are able in our own bumbling maladroitness, wouldn't you agree, constable?  Now tell me, what is your name?"

"Hawkshaw, but do not—"

"Your given name?"

"Pardon?"

"Your first name?"

"Oh, it's Kenneth."

"Kenneth!  A fine name.  Now, as I was saying, Kenneth, we have tried to be helpful, but you remain unappreciative, even hostile.  Does this situation remind you of a time, oh, say, from your childhood when well-meaning adults upset you?  Your parents, perhaps?"

This exchange continued well into the evening, Valkusian and Hawkshaw eventually retiring to my study.  Coburn and Satyros recounted to me their efforts in confounding the constable while Cerebelli surveyed my laboratory.  The constable left in the late evening, his eyes red and puffy, a wan smile on his exhausted countenance.  Valkusian offered his card and a generous law enforcement discount to the departing lawman.  "Thank you, doctor," said Hawkshaw through his handkerchief.

We regrouped in the drawing room.  I felt like a schoolchild caught in the act of some misdemeanor, certain the headmaster would administer a painful and humiliating lashing.  "Magnetron," said Valkusian, "We shall have a word with you now."