'To the dungeon.' Terence made an evil face. 'The deep, dark dungeon.'

'But first to the torture chamber,' said one of the big green thingies. 'This is the sod who stuck his sword up my brother Colin's a.r.s.e a couple of nights back on Kew Bridge.'

The Gandhis were still rocking. They hadn't stopped.

The control box was soundproof, that's all. Arthur Kobold led b.o.l.l.o.c.ks, Cornelius, Tuppe and Anna away from it. They skirted around the hired heavies and were soon at the secret entrance in the gorse bush.

'OK,' said Anna, prodding Arthur Kobold with the big pistol, 'lead the way.

'Guys,' said b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.

'Yes,' said the guys.

'Guys, I think I'll pa.s.s this one up, if you don't mind.'

'Bottle gone?' Tuppe asked.

'Yes actually. I'm not into guns and stuff like that. But listen, I did my bit, didn't I? I was in your epic.'

'You certainly were.' Cornelius grinned. 'Enjoy the band. We'll get back to you later.'

'Good luck then, guys.

'Good luck, b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.' The tall boy shook him warmly by the hand. 'And thanks for everything.'

'Be lucky,' said Tuppe.

'You too.'

Arthur Kobold led the way down the flight of stone steps. 'This isn't going to get you anywhere,' he told Cornelius.

'Just move on. We'll see where it gets us.' The steps went down and down, the way some of them do. Those that aren't going up and up. Although these could possibly be the same steps. It just depends whether you're going up or down.

Arthur Kobold's party were going down.

Inspectre Hovis was going down and the big green thingy, with the brother called Colin, kept kicking him as he did so.

'Is that your own cab?' the other big green thingy asked Terence.

'I lease it. It's the best way. The fares from the first day of the week pay the rental. From then on all the money goes into me own pocket.'

'Takings any good at this time of year?'

'Fair to middling. Lot of regulars on holiday.''But a lot of people take their holidays in Lon-don.'

'Oh yeah, you get the theatre trade and airport runs. But a lot of people come on guided tours and the Underground does good deals.'

'You wouldn't recommend cabbing as a profession, then?'

'It has its perks and you are your own man.'

'Never thought of going out on your own? Mini-cab or something?'

'Too much ha.s.sle. You thinking of taking up the trade, then?'

'Maybe. I've got some bonus owing to me. And there has to be more to life than just being a big green thingy. I thought I might buy a limo. Do weddings and stuff.'

Twenty-three thousand pairs of feet were now doing 'Hi Ho Silver Lining' right above the head of the Secret King of the World.

The far from jolly red-faced man poured a large libation of some alcoholic beverage into a mighty goblet and emptied this down his throat.

'Kobold!' roared the king. 'Stop that d.a.m.n row. Kobold, where are you?'

Arthur stuck his head around the great door and smiled painfully.

'I'm here, sire,' he said.

And Cornelius Murphy stared above the shoulder of Arthur Kobold. And verily did he behold the hall of the hidden king.

'Holy sh...' The tall boy took a step backwards. The mind-boggling magnitude of the scene that lay I before was a little bit much to come to terms with.

The sheer scale of the thing. Its solidity. Its grandeur.

The fact that it was right here. Under Star Hill.

This was Castle Gormenghast. Or the hall of King Arthur. Or something.

Tuppe peeped from behind the tall boy's left knee. 'I see that,' he whispered. 'You do see that also, don't you? It's not just me?'

'It's not just you. I see it.'

'And do you see him?'

Tuppe's right forefinger made wavery little point-ings towards he that sat upon the throne. The big he. The he with the huge white beard and the huge red outfit, with the ermine tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. And that belt of his and those heroic black boots. That he. That he there.

Cornelius saw him. 'I see him,' he said.

And Anna saw him also. And she was somewhat stuck for words. No doubt this would not last for very long, and some would soon return to her. Words like 'suck' and 'sad'. But not just at this moment.

'Kobold,' said the king. Quite loudly. Very loudly. 'Kobold! What are you doing about that noise?'

Anna gave Mr Kobold a kick in the backside. Arthur entered the court of the king at a greater speed than he might reasonably have preferred and fell in an untidy heap.

'Why exactly did you do that?' asked the king. 'Er,' said Arthur, climbing to his feet, dusting himself down and slipping off his shoes. 'We have guests.'

'Guests? Guests? I didn't invite any guests.'

'They sort of invited themselves, sire.'

'No, no.' The king shook his mighty beard. 'That is strictly against all royal protocol.'

'Now call me a t.w.a.t,' said Tuppe to Cornelius, 'but isn't that Father Christmas himself?'

'You're a t.w.a.t,' said Anna. 'But it is, isn't it?' She stepped sharply forward and poked Arthur Kobold in the waistcoat area. 'Is this your guvnor?'

'It's the king.' Arthur smiled another painful smile towards his monarch. 'Your Majesty.'

'Well, tell him to put his hands up.'

Arthur Kobold now made the kind of face you make when you shut your fingers in a door. 'I'd rather not, if you don't mind.'

'I do mind.' Anna thrust Mr Kobold aside. 'You!' she shouted.

'I?' The king's eyes widened. They were somewhat bleary and bloodshot, but they certainlywidened. 'Kobold,' said the king, 'there is a young woman thing here and she is pointing a pistol at me.

'Anna,' said Anna.

'Anna?' said the king.

'Anna,' said Anna. 'As in The King and I.'

'Guards!' shouted the king. 'As in, call out the guards!'

28.

The king's guards were otherwise engaged.

One of them was pushing a reluctant Inspectre Hovis through the doorway into the torture chamber.

The other was discussing the pros and cons of the limousine-hire business with Terence Arthur Mulligan.

'You have to be careful with your clientele,' Terence said. 'Watch out for the p.i.s.s artists who throw up in the back, or try and nick your car-phone.'

'I was going to ask you about the phone,' said the big green thingy. 'Should I get Cellnet or one of the others? I've sent for brochures, but I can't seem to make up my mind.'

'Get on that rack you,' said the other big green thingy to Inspectre Hovis.

When the king had finally tired with shouting the word 'guards', he poured himself another drink.

'Kobold,' he said wearily, 'take these creatures', he waved towards Cornelius and Tuppe, who were still skulking in the doorway, 'straight to the dungeon. And her,' he pointed a big fat finger at Anna Gotting, 'chop her head off.'

'With pleasure, sire.'

'Get real,' said Anna.

'And use a blunt axe,' said the king. 'A big one.' 'That's enough.' Cornelius stepped into the great hail. 'Stop it, all of you. Now listen, please.' He stared up at the big figure on the throne. 'Are you really I mean, am I right in thinking that you are... that is to say ...

'Spit it out, boy!' roared the king. 'Are you Father Christmas?' The king's enormous face split into an enormous smile. 'My boy,' said he with a hearty chuckle. 'My boy. I see, I see.'

'What does he see?' Tuppe asked.

'You've come to give me your Christmas letter. You've come to see jolly old Santa and give him your Christmas letter. Well, why not? Have you been a good boy this year?'

'Barking mad,' said Tuppe. 'This bodes well.' Cornelius thrust his hands into his pockets and took a few paces forward across the flagstoned floor.

The king's smile froze. 'Shoes,' he said.

'What?' Cornelius asked.

'Shoes. Your shoes. Take them off.'

'Why?' Cornelius asked.

'Because it's protocol. And because I tell you to. Take your shoes off. Socks too.'

'No,' said Cornelius. 'I won't.' 'Guards!' shouted the king. Arthur Kobold wrung his hands.

Sergeant St.u.r.dy strode up Star Hill. He didn't take any roundabout routes. That was not his way of doing things. Travellers danced to every side of him, but reliable Ron stared stoically ahead and marched right on. The crowd parted before him. He had a certain way about him, did Ron.

'Get on that rack,' said the big green thingy once more.

'By this steel thrice blessed,' cried Inspectre Hovis, unsheathing his blade.

The large something that carried the not-so-large something, continued to do so, invisibly.

Cornelius strode across the great hall with his shoes still on. His footsteps echoed and the sound put the king's teeth on edge. And when Cornelius pulled out a chair at the king's table and sat down upon it, the royal teeth began to grind.

'Murphy,' said the tall boy. 'Cornelius Murphy. Perhaps you've heard of me.'

'This is Murphy?' The king addressed these words to the cringing Arthur Kobold.

Arthur nodded. 'b.l.o.o.d.y nuisance, so he is.'

'And what is all the hair about?'

'It's big hair,' Cornelius explained. 'All famous people have big hair. It's a tradition, or an old charter. Or something. You have a big beard. I expect it's the same thing.''I will have my guards hang you up by your big hair and roast you over a slow fire.'

'Not on Christmas Eve, I hope.'

'Kobold. Go out and find the guards. Tell them to bring two big blunt axes,' the king glanced over at Tuppe, 'and one of those little metal things you chop up slabs of toffee with.'

Arthur Kobold looked at Anna. Anna shook her head. 'Which one would you like me to shoot first, Cornelius?' she asked.

'Shoot the king first,' said the tall boy. 'Arthur can take care of the paperwork.'