With undiminished aplomb he let in his clutch and we surged forward powerfully. But only for two seconds. From the gloom ahead there sounded a dull crash followed by a tinkling of glass and metal.

"Darling," Zoe piped. "That was the thirty miles an hour sign."

"Was it really, my angel?" Granville rubbed his hand on the window. "You know, Jim, the visibility isn't too good." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps it would be a good idea if we postponed our visit till another time."

He maneuvered the big car back into the garage and we got out. We had covered, I should think, about five yards on our journey to Newcastle.

Back in the garden bar, Granville was soon in full cry again. And I was all for it because my earlier trepidation had vanished entirely. I was floating in a happy haze and I offered no resistance as my colleague jerked and twitched more samples from the gin bottle.

Suddenly he held up a hand. "I'm sure we're all starving. Let's have some hot dogs!"

"Hot dogs?" I cried. "Splendid idea!" It was a long call from all the spices of the orient but I was ready for anything.

"Zoe, sweet," he said. "We can use the big can of saveloy sausages if you would just heat it up."

His wife left for the kitchen and Helen touched my arm.

"Jim," she said. "Saveloys ...?"

I knew what she meant. I have a pretty good digestion but there are certain things I can't eat. A single saveloy was enough to bring my entire metabolism to a halt but at that moment it seemed a pettifogging detail.

"Oh don't worry, Helen," I whispered, putting my arm round her. "They won't hurt me."

When Zoe came back with the food Granville was in his element, slicing the juicy smoked sausages lengthways, slapping mustard on them and enclosing them in rolls.

As I bit into the first one I thought I had never tasted anything so delicious. Chewing happily I found it difficult to comprehend my previous ridiculous prejudice.

"Ready for another, old son?" Granville held up a loaded roll.

"Sure! These are absolutely marvellous. Best hot dogs I've ever tasted!" I munched it down quickly and reached for a third.

I think it was when I had downed five of them that my friend prodded me in the ribs.

"Jim, lad," he said between chews. "We want a drop of beer to wash these down, don't you agree?"

I waved my arm extravagantly. "Of course we do! Bloody gin's no good for this job!"

Granville pulled two pints of draught. Powerful delicious ale which flowed in a cooling wave over my inflamed mucous membranes, making me feel I had been waiting for it all my life. We each had three pints and another hot dog or two while waves of euphoria billowed around me.

The occasional anxious glance from Helen didn't worry me in the least. She was making signs that it was time to go home, but the very idea was unthinkable. I was having the time of my life, the world was a wonderful place and this little private pub was the finest corner of it.

Granville put down a half-eaten roll. "Zoe, my precious, it would be nice to have something sweet to top this off. Why don't you bring out some of those little gooey things you made yesterday?"

She produced a plateful of very rich-looking cakelets. I do not have a sweet tooth and normally skip this part of the meal but I bit into one of Zoe's creations with relish. It was beautifully made and I could detect chocolate, marzipan, caramel and other things.

It was when I was eating the third that matters began to deteriorate. I found that my merry chatter had died and it was Granville doing all the talking, and as I listened to him owlishly I was surprised to see his face becoming two faces which floated apart and came together repeatedly. It was an astonishing phenomenon and it was happening with everything else in the room.

And I wasn't feeling so healthy now. That boundless vigour was no longer surging through my veins and I felt only a great weariness and a rising nausea.

I lost count of time around then. No doubt the conversation went on among the four of us but I can't remember any of it and my next recollection was of the party breaking up. Granville was helping Helen on with her coat and there was a general air of cheerful departure.

"Ready, Jim?" my friend said briskly.

I nodded and got slowly to my feet and as I swayed he put his arm round me and assisted me to the door. Outside, the fog had cleared and a bright pattern of stars overhung the village, but the clean cold air only made me feel worse and I stumbled through the darkness like a sleepwalker. When I reached the car a long griping spasm drove through me, reminding me horribly of the sausages, the gin and the rest. I groaned and leaned on the roof.

"Maybe you'd better drive, Helen," my colleague said. He was about to open the door when, with a dreadful feeling of helplessness, I began to slide along the metal.

Granville caught my shoulders. "He'd be better in the back," he gasped and began to lug me on to the seat. "Zoe, sweetheart, Helen, love, grab a leg each, will you? Fine, now I'll get round the other side and pull him in."

He trotted round to the far side, opened the door and hauled at my shoulders.

"Down a bit your side, Helen, dear. Now to me a little. Up a trifle your side, Zoe, pet. Now back to you a bit. Lovely, lovely."

Clearly he was happy at his work. He sounded like an expert furniture remover and through the mists I wondered bitterly how many inert forms he had stuffed into their cars after an evening with him.

Finally they got me in, half lying across the back seat. My face was pressed against the side window and from the outside it must have been a grotesque sight with the nose squashed sideways and a solitary dead-mackerel eye staring sightlessly into the night.

With an effort I managed to focus and saw Zoe looking down at me anxiously. She gave a tentative wave of goodbye but I could produce only a slight twitch of the cheek in reply.

Granville kissed Helen fondly then slammed the car door. Moving back, he peered in at me and brandished his arms.

"See you soon, I hope, Jim. It's been a lovely evening!" His big face was wreathed in a happy smile and as I drove away my final impression was that he was thoroughly satisfied.

CHAPTER 25.

BEING AWAY FROM DARROWBY and living a different life I was able to stand back and assess certain things objectively. I asked myself many questions. Why, for instance, was my partnership with Siegfried so successful?

Even now, as we still jog along happily after thirty-five years, I wonder about it. I know I liked him instinctively when I first saw him in the garden at Skeldale House on that very first afternoon, but I feel there is another reason why we get on together.

Maybe it is because we are opposites. Siegfried's restless energy impels him constantly to try to alter things while I abhor change of any kind. A lot of people would call him brilliant, while not even my best friends would apply that description to me. His mind relentlessly churns out ideas of all grades-excellent, doubtful and very strange indeed. I, on the other hand, rarely have an idea of any sort. He likes hunting, shooting and fishing; I prefer football, cricket and tennis. I could go on and on-we are even opposite physical types-and yet as I say, we get along.

This of course doesn't mean that we have never had our differences. Over the years there have been minor clashes on various points.

One, I recall, was over the plastic calcium injectors. They were something new so Siegfried liked them, and by the same token I regarded them with deep suspicion.

My doubts were nourished by my difficulties with them. Their early troubles have now been ironed out but at the beginning I found the things so temperamental that I abandoned them.

My colleague pulled me up about it when he saw me washing out my flutter valve by running the surgery tap through it.

"For God's sake, James, you're not still using that old thing, are you?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I am."

"But haven't you tried the new plastics?"

"I have."

"Well ... ?"

"Can't get away with them, Siegfried."

"Can't ... what on earth do you mean?"

I trickled the last drop of water through the tube, rolled it small and slipped it into its case. "Well, the last time I used one the calcium squirted all over the place. And it's messy, sticky stuff. I had great white streaks down my coat."

"But James!" He laughed incredulously. "That's crazy! They're childishly simple to use. I haven't had the slightest trouble."

"I believe you," I said. "But you know me. I haven't got a mechanical mind."

"For heaven's sake, you don't need a mechanical mind. They're foolproof."

"Not to me, they aren't. I've had enough of them."

My colleague put his hand on my shoulder and his patient look began to creep across his face. "James, James, you must persevere." He raised a finger. "There is another point at issue here, you know."

"What's that?"

"The matter of asepsis. How do you know that length of rubber you have there is clean?"

"Well, I wash it through after use, I use a boiled needle, and ..."

"But don't you see, my boy, you're only trying to achieve what already exists in the plastic pack. Each one is self-contained and sterilised."

"Oh I know all about that but what's the good of it if I can't get the stuff into the cow?" I said querulously.

"Oh piffle, James!" Siegfried assumed a grave expression. "It only needs a little application on your part, and I must stress that you are behaving in a reactionary manner by being stubborn. I put it to you seriously that we have to move with the times and every time you use that antiquated outfit of yours it is a retrograde step."

We stood, as we often did, eyeball to eyeball, in mutual disagreement till he smiled suddenly. "Look, you're going out now, aren't you, to see that milk-fever cow I treated at John Tillot's. I understand it's not up yet."

"That's right."

"Well, as a favour to me, will you give one of the new packs a try?"

I thought for a moment. "All right Siegfried, I'll have one more go."

When I reached the farm I found the cow comfortably ensconced in a field, in the middle of a rolling yellow ocean of buttercups.

"She's had a few tries to get on 'er feet," the farmer said. "But she can't quite make it."

"Probably just wants another shot." I went to my car which I had driven, rocking and bumping, over the rig and furrow of the field, and took one of the plastic packs from the boot.

Mr. Tillot raised his eyebrows when he saw me coming back. "Is that one o' them new things?"

"Yes, it is, Mr. Tillot the very latest invention. All completely sterilised."

"Ah don't care what it is, ah don't like it!"

"You don't?"

"Naw!"

"Well ... why not?"

"Ah'll tell ye. Mr. Farnon used one this mornin'. Some of the stuff went in me eye, some went in 'is ear 'ole and the rest went down 'is trousers. Ah don't think t'bloody cow got any!"

There was another time Siegfried had to take me to task. An old-age pensioner was leading a small mongrel dog along the passage on the other end of a piece of string. I patted the consulting room table.

"Put him up here, will you?" I said.

The old man bent over slowly, groaning and puffing.

"Wait a minute." I tapped his shoulder. "Let me do it." I hoisted the little animal on to the smooth surface.

"Thank ye, sir." The man straightened up and rubbed his back and leg. "I 'ave arthritis bad and I'm not much good at liftin'. My name's Bailey and I live at t'council houses."

"Right, Mr. Bailey, what's the trouble?"

"It's this cough. He's allus at it. And 'e kind of retches at t'end of it"

"I see. How old is he?"

"He were ten last month."

"Yes ..." I took the temperature and carefully auscultated the chest. As I moved the stethoscope over the ribs Siegfried came in and began to rummage in the cupboard.

"It's a chronic bronchitis, Mr. Bailey," I said. "Many older dogs suffer from it just like old folks."

He laughed, "Aye, ah'm a bit wheezy meself sometimes."

"That's right but you're not so bad, really, are you?"

"Naw, naw."

"Well neither is your little dog. I'm going to give him an injection and a course of tablets and it will help him quite a bit. I'm afraid he'll never quite get rid of this cough, but bring him in again if it gets very bad."

He nodded vigorously. "Very good, sir. Thank ye kindly, sir."

As Siegfried banged about in the cupboard I gave the injection and counted out twenty of the new M&B 693 tablets.

The old man gazed at them with interest then put them in his pocket. "Now what do ah owe ye, Mr. Herriot?"