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Feb 07, 2007 13:24

'Are you from the paper?' said a man in the crowd.

'Yes,' said William.

'Well, I reckon this is another case of mysterious spontaneous combustion, just like you reported yesterday,' and he craned his neck to see if William was writing this down.

William groaned. Sacharissa had reported a fire in Lobbin Clout, in which one poor soul had died, and had left it at that. But the Inquirer had called it a Mystery Fire.

'I'm not sure that one was very mysterious,' he said. 'Old Mr Hardy decided to light a cigar and forgot that he was bathing his feet in turpentine.' Apparently someone had told him this was a cure for athlete's foot and, in a way, they had been right.

'That's what they say,' said the man, tapping his nose. 'But there's a lot we don't get told.'

'That's true,' said William. 'I heard only the other day that giant rocks hundreds of miles across crash into the country every week, but the Patrician hushes it up.'

'There you are, then,' said the man. 'It's amazing the way they treat us as if we're stupid.'

'Yes, it's a puzzle to me, too,' said William.

canon

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