On the way to the west wing, I stumble on my old friend, Rod ‘Curly’ MacGregor, standing in front of a table, looking bewildered. Behind him, I recognise Harvey and Beadle, scientists who lurk around aunt Humperdink’s country clubs, hoping someone will invest in their research.
At this news, Harvey and Beadle look disappointed, so I dig out a few of the stones that I picked up in aunt Humperdink’s mine. I explain that I have to keep the opal because I want to give it to Juan, who wants to give it Mahalath, but that they can have all the others.
grabs the gems and shouts that that is exactly what they need and that I won’t be sorry. I tell them I am happy that my bag is lighter. Harvey
Beadle insists on providing inexhaustible details about the equipment they will buy for their project, and what they will do with it; courtesy forbids me from telling them what they can do with it. After a minute or two, I am pole-axed with boredom and, desperately seeking some form of escape, I grab the jug of Juan’s Special Reserve, yell ‘Slainte Mhath!’, throw the whisky down my neck, and follow Rod into happy oblivion, as fast as I possibly can.
Professor Humperdink's Diary