After Prince Kalman’s sudden disappearance, the pantomime had suffered no more untoward interruptions, much to the relief of Sir James, Matt Lafferty, Lewis and the Stage Manager. The finale was a triumph and the applause had been rapturous.
After many curtain calls had been taken, Sir James had gone on stage and given a short but witty speech, reminding the audience that, as the performance was for charity, he hoped that each and every one of them would contribute generously. There were baskets, he said, in the foyer for their donations which would all be given to Children’s Aid, a worthwhile cause if ever there was one.
The mention of baskets had, at the time, filled both Murdo and Tammy with apprehension and sadly for them, their fears were not unfounded, for as they tried to escape the searching eyes of the policemen scattered round the foyer, they saw many people putting cheques and cash in the same tall, Ali Baba baskets that held the takings of their robbery. As there wasn’t a lot they could do about it, they gritted their teeth as they headed for the swing doors that they hoped would lead to freedom.
It was not to be, however, for Sir Archie’s instructions had been brief, simple and to the point — and it must be admitted that the hand of the law, when it finally fell on their shoulders, was not totally unexpected.
As Murdo had said, it was a fair cop and they’d gone quietly. But when he got to the police station and found that Wullie hadn’t been arrested, he’d really started to worry. With sickening clarity, he’d remembered the arrival of white-faced policemen backstage and although they’d been tight-lipped about what had gone on in the Underground City, he had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps it wasn’t only the ghosts that had scared them. Perhaps the Plague People had got out? Mary King had warned him. What if they’d got out and found Wullie? Such an innocent! Such a daft idiot! And so scared of the ghosts!
Murdo hammered violently on the door of his cell. “I want to see the Chief Inspector,” he roared through the grill, “and I want to see him now!”
The constable who unlocked his cell door looked at him with more than a touch of awe, wondering what on earth Murdo had been up to this time. “You’re in luck, Murdo,” he said, eyeing him strangely, “but it’s no’ the Chief Inspector that wants to see you! It’s the Chief Constable himself!”
Murdo blinked, startled. “Sir Archie?”
The constable grinned. “Aye, Murdo! Sir Archie, himself! You’ve made it to the top this time!”
Inside the hill, Jaikie, who was checking to see if any of the plague ghosts had managed to escape into the High Street, sat up suddenly for the third time that evening. “Didn’t Sir Archie say they’d got everyone out of the Underground City?” he queried.
“Yes,” the MacArthur looked up in surprise, “that’s what he told us, anyway.”
“Well, he was wrong! Come over here and have a look! There’s still someone in there,” Jaikie said.
“It’s not a policeman, though!” Hamish muttered, peering over his shoulder.
The MacArthur and Rothlan got up and moved over to the crystal.
“It must be one of the bank robbers,” Jaikie said. And they watched in horror as the plague ghosts homed in on the lonely figure.
It was one of the bank robbers! It was Wullie!
When Wullie woke up under a veritable fortune in used banknotes, he had a head on him fit to burst. At best, it felt as though he’d been hit by a couple of hundred hammers. As this pain-filled daze lasted for some time, it was a while before he remembered about the vault and it was only when the realization slowly dawned that he must still be in the bank that he tentatively opened his eyes and sat up, shedding piles of notes.
It was a mistake. His head swam and his eyes glazed but not before he saw the banknotes that lay in piles around him. Hundreds of them! Thousands of them!
Now Wullie was not overly blessed with brains but his situation would, at that moment, have left a genius floundering! There he was, in the vault, all the lights were on, there was money everywhere and the whole place was as quiet as the grave. Not another soul anywhere! No police, no bank staff, nobody at all!
In the dim, cloudy, outer-reaches of his mind, Wullie wondered about Murdo and this vague recollection strengthened when he saw his bin-liner lying beside him, half-full of money — he looked at it thoughtfully and as he looked, his brain, very gently, began to tick over. Not very fast, mind you, but it was a start! The first thing it told him was that he needed a cigarette. It was a sad fact, but Wullie couldn’t think at all without a cigarette in his mouth. So he lit up, tried to ignore his pounding head and thought about what he was going to do.