A Mystery, Not A Lizard

Pierre-Louis and Marx have come back from the café.

Marx has returned to his seat.

Pierre-Louis sits down beside Gaius.

How's the bat?

Fine now that I've separated her from Terence's leg, says Gaius.

Don't tell me he was using the fish glue, says Pierre-Louis.

He was, and he may well have ruined the feather, says Gaius. Although a passenger has offered to help him restore it.

Terence comes over, with his wrong-looking feather.

Look at this! says Terence. It's still ruined.

Gaius appraises the feather, for artistic merit.

You can still use it, says Gaius. What do you think, Pierre-Louis?

I agree, says Pierre-Louis. It could adorn the middle frame. 

What middle frame? asks Terence.

You made three sketches, says Pierre-Louis. This feather should go in the middle one.

But, says Terence, which way is it going?

He has a point, says Gaius. Is it flying past the window in the opposite direction to the train? Or losing ground, flying forward.

That's just it. We don't know, says Pierre-Louis. It's an enigma.

So it is, says Gaius. An artistic representation of an enigma.

It's a feather, not a lizard, says Terence.

An enigma is a mystery, not a lizard, says Gaius.

Okay, says Terence. Where are my drawings?

Did you leave them in the café? asks Gaius.

I don't know, says Terence.

Oh no! Terence has lost his drawings.

You could do three more, says Gaius. You still have the sketch book.

Terence looks out of the window. 

There is no more brown blur.

It's a more of a grey blur, with sparkles.

The outskirts of Melbourne, says Gaius. We're almost there.

Good, says Pierre-Louis. By the way, where will we be staying? 

I hadn't thought, says Gaius. I suppose it's not feasible to go out to Yellingbo this evening.

It isn't, says Pierre-Louis. 

I'm sure we'll find somewhere, says Gaius. I wonder where Marx is staying?

Yay! says Terence. Can we stay with grandpa?

Go and ask him, says Gaius. No stop, don't. I'll go.

He goes over to ask Marx where he's staying.

The Marxism Conference has organised my accommodation, says Marx. It will no doubt be spartan. Why are you asking?

Never mind, says Gaius. I've just realised we have nowhere to stay. Arthur normally books it.

Stick with me, says Marx. I'm sure there'll be somewhere. We Marxists.....

Thank you, says Gaius. It will only be for tonight. We're off to Yellingbo in the morning. 

I know, says Marx. With your bat and your drone. And your young assistant. By the way here are his drawings. He left them with me.

What good news. 

Now Terence has somewhere to stick his enigma.