Sentence The Fivehundredandfortyfifth

 

 

And that was when Daphne and Maude, herself newly returned from that fateful trip to The Wrestlers' Reunion – accompanied by Father Mungo Macaneny – switched off the television and sat for a few moments in silence; "not one mention of the Dumbiedykes," said Daphne, in a tone of disgust, "nor of the Lyttletons," said Maude, a silent anger beneath her words: "it is quite intolerable!" and the two cousins, long-time companions and lovers, who were not merely related, but also devoted to each other, gulped down their Ochentoshan Malts and Daphne reached out for Maude's hand; "perhaps we could write to The Scotsman, put the record straight, expose this as a load of hokum?" and Maude
frowned: "they'll probably say that's all it's meant to be – one of those 'based on a true story' things, that lets them invent all they want and ignore the facts," and Daphne shook her head: "but it's so unfair, that these myths get perpetuated and the true story – that it was our fathers who discovered Tut's tomb – gets submerged under all this guff about Carter and Carnarvon!" and this time Maude nodded: "you are right, Dear Heart, and it's all to tie in with the Downton Abbey nonsense, just because it was Carnarvon's house that was used in that melodrama and they want the same viewers for this – it's enough to make one boak!" and as they ruminated on the awfulness of The Medium, meaning television, Daphne reminded Maude of the little chiromancer they had met in their fathers'
camp in Egypt, a wrinkled prune, wrapped in Bedouin cloaks, who had invited them into her tent: "cross me palm wit silver," she had croaked, in a strong Irish brogue, ab initio, and making it clear there would be no fortune told that wasn't paid for up-front, "it'll be wort it, am no a no-use nudnik, it'll be excitin' stuff, ah can tell jist be lookin' at yese, div ye like yer fortunes hot n sassy? ur cool n classy? cos mind it's only reading whit's therr a'ready, yer fortunes is aye yer awn! am no a charlie-tan!" and the two girls felt obliged to give her a florin each and then waited as she studied both right hands, glimpsed their lefts and returned to the rights: "ah, sure now, glory be tae Allah, ye ken, Him, up therr in 'is Haven, unless 'e's playin a trick on poor ould Magillycuddy, it's clear tae me that youse lassies are pert o' a Graund Plan, but 'tis awfy Hush-Hush an a durstny breathe a word o it fer jist a florin apiece, noo, if yese can see yer weys tae be givin a puir owd Mooslim wummin, wha's never harmed a flea in her life, a wee bit mair siller, jist fer expenses, it's an awfy upkeep cairtin this tent aroon an aroon, well, sure tae guidness ah moight jist manage tae whisper in yer pretty little shell-likes an none's the wiser," and quick as they laid the extra coins on her palm they were spirited away and she leant across the card-table and putting her own face between theirs so that she had Daphne's right ear and Maude's left ear and started to whisper when . . . . . a bang, a crash, a scream, the oil-lamp fell to the floor as the old woman's head struck the table, flames leapt up the gauzy hangings and in the flickering light and darkness, Maude and Daphne saw the flash of a scimitar, they both screamed like Banshees and heard running feet, outside the tent they saw a figure dart between the wagons and when they turned back, found the fortune-teller lying dead among the ashes of her flimsy tent, a bullet hole drilled through her head and on the floor, a pile of playing cards had fallen with several lying face up and showing the infamous Dead Man's Hand!