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’
Hmm
?
What
?
’
’
I
said
,
do
you
want
mushrooms
?
’
’
Oh
.
Sorry
.
No
,
thank
you
,
’
said
Mort
.
’
Right
you
are
,
young
sir
.
’
He
turned
around
and
set
out
for
the
table
.
Even
after
he
got
used
to
it
,
Mort
always
held
his
breath
when
he
watched
Albert
walking
.
Death
’
s
manservant
was
one
of
those
stick
-
thin
,
raw
-
nosed
old
men
who
always
look
as
though
they
are
wearing
gloves
with
the
fingers
cut
out
–
even
when
they
’
re
not
–
and
his
walking
involved
a
complicated
sequence
of
movements
.
Albert
leaned
forward
and
his
left
arm
started
to
swing
,
slowly
at
first
but
soon
evolving
into
a
wild
jerking
movement
that
finally
and
suddenly
,
at
about
the
time
when
a
watcher
would
have
expected
the
arm
to
fly
off
at
the
elbow
,
transferred
itself
down
the
length
of
his
body
to
his
legs
and
propelled
him
forward
like
a
high
-
speed
stilt
walker
.
The
frying
pan
followed
a
series
of
intricate
curves
in
the
air
and
was
brought
to
a
halt
just
over
Mort
’
s
plate
.
Albert
did
indeed
have
exactly
the
right
type
of
half
-
moon
spectacles
to
peer
over
the
top
of
.
’
There
could
be
some
porridge
to
follow
,
’
he
said
,
and
winked
,
apparently
to
include
Mort
in
the
world
porridge
conspiracy
.
’
Excuse
me
’
,
said
Mort
,
’
but
where
am
I
,
exactly
?
’
