shiver ran down her spine.
No one spoke for a while, neither Momo nor any of the men in grey. Then
a flat, expressionless voice broke the silence.
'I see,' it said. 'So this is Momo, the girl who thought she could defy
us. Just look at her now, the miserable creature!'
These words were followed by a dry, rattling sound that vaguely
resembled a chorus of mocking laughter.
'Careful!' hissed another grey voice. 'You know how dangerous she can
be. It's no use trying to deceive her.'
Momo pricked up her ears at this.
'Very well,' said the first voice from the darkness beyond the
headlights, 'let's try the truth for a change.'
Another long silence fell. Momo sensed that the men in grey were afraid
to tell the truth - so afraid that it imposed a tremendous strain on them.
She heard what sounded like a gasp of exertion from a thousand throats.
At long last, one of the disembodied voices began to speak. It came
from a different direction, but it was just as flat and expressionless as
the others.
'All right, let's be blunt. You're all on your own, little girl. Your
friends are out of reach, so you've no one to share your time with. We
planned it that way. You see how powerful we are. There's no point in trying
to resist us. What do they amount to, all these lonely hours of yours? A
curse and a burden, nothing more. You're completely cut off from the rest of
mankind.'
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Momo listened and said nothing.
'Sooner or later,' the voice droned on, 'you won't be able to endure it
any longer. Tomorrow, next week, next year -it's all the same to us. We
shall simply bide our time because we know that in due course you'll come
crawling to us and say: I'll do anything, anything at all, as long as you
relieve me of my burden. But perhaps you've already reached that stage? You
only have to say.' Momo shook her head.
"So you won't let us help you?' the voice pursued coldly. Momo felt an
icy breeze envelop her from all sides at once, but she gritted her teeth and
shook her head again.
'She knows what time is,' whispered another voice.
'That proves she really was with a Certain Person,' the first voice
replied, also in a whisper. Aloud, it asked, 'Do you know Professor ®£ ?'
Momo nodded.
'You actually paid him a visit?'
She nodded again.
'So you know about the hour-lilies?'
She nodded a third time. Oh yes, how well she knew!
There was another longish silence. When the voice began to speak again,
it came from another direction.
'You love your friends, don't you?'
Another nod.
'And you'd like to set them free?'
Yet another nod.
'You could, if only you would.'
Momo was shivering with cold in every limb. She drew the jacket more
tightly around her.
'It wouldn't take much to save them. You help us and we'll help you.
That's only fair, isn't it?'
The voice was coming from yet another direction. Momo stared intently
at its source.
'The thing is, we'd like to make Professor Hora's
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acquaintance but we don't Know where he lives. All we want is for you
to show us the way. That's right, Momo, listen carefully, so you know we're
being honest with you and mean what we say. In return, we'll give you back
your friends and let you all lead the carefree, happy-go-lucky life you used
to enjoy so much. If that isn't a worthwhile offer, what is?'
Momo opened her mouth for the first time. It was quite an effort to
speak at all, her lips felt so numb.
'What do you want with Professor Hora?' she asked.
'I told you, we want to make his acquaintance,' the voice said sharply,
and the air grew even colder. 'That's all you need to know.'
Momo said nothing, just waited.
'I don't understand you,' said the voice. 'Think of yourself and your
friends. Why worry about Professor Hora? He's old enough to look after
himself. Besides, if he's sensible and cooperates nicely, we won't harm a
hair of his head. If not, we have ways of making him.'
Momo's lips were blue with cold. 'Making him do what?' she asked.
The voice sounded suddenly shrill and strained. 'We're tired of
collecting people's time by the hour, minute and second. We want all of it
right away, and Hora's got to hand it over!'
Horrified, Momo stared into the darkness beyond the ring of headlights.
'What about the people it belongs to?' she asked. 'What will happen to
them?'
'People?' The voice rose to a scream and broke. 'People have been
obsolete for years. They've made the world a place where there's no room
left for their own kind. We shall rule the world!'
By now the cold was so intense that Momo could barely move her lips,
let alone speak.
'Never fear, though, little Momo,' the voice went on, abruptly becoming
gentle and almost coaxing, 'that naturally won't apply to you and your
friends. You'll be the last and
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only people on earth to play games and tell stories. As long as you
stop meddling in our business, we'll leave you in peace. Is it a deal?'
' The voice fell silent. A moment later, it took up the thread from a
different quarter. 'You know we've told you the truth. We'll keep our
promise, you can rely on that. And now, take us to Professor Hora.'
Momo tried to speak, almost fainting with cold. Finally, after several
attempts, she said, 'Even if I could, I wouldn't.'
'What do you mean, if you could?' the* voice said menac-ingly. 'Of
course you can. You paid him a visit, so you must know the way.'
'I'd never find it again,' Momo whispered. 'I've tried. Only Cassiopeia
knows it.'
'Who's Cassiopeia?'
The professor's tortoise.'
'Where is it now?'
Momo, barely conscious, murmured, "She . . . she came back with me, but
... I lost her.'
As if from a long way off, a chorus of agitated voices came to her
ears.
'Issue a general alert!' she heard. 'We've got to find that tortoise.
Check every tortoise you come across. That animal's got to be found at all
costs!'
The voices died away. Silence fell. Momo slowly regained her senses.
She was standing by herself in the middle of the square. Nothing was
stirring but a chill gust of wind that seemed to issue from some great,
empty void: a wind as grey as ashes.
EIGHTEEN
The Pursuit
Momo didn't know how much time had passed. The church clock chimed
occasionally, but she scarcely heard it. Her frozen limbs took ages to thaw
out. She felt numb and incapable of making decisions.
How could she go home to the amphitheatre and climb into bed, now that
there was no hope left for herself and her friends? How could she, when she
knew that things would never come right again? She was worried about
Cassiopeia, too. What if the men in grey found her? She began to reproach
herself bitterly for having mentioned the tortoise at all, but she'd been
too dazed to think straight.
'Anyway,' she reflected, trying to console herself, 'Cassiopeia may
have found her way back to Professor ®£ long ago. Yes, I hope she isn't
still looking for me. It would be better for both of us.'
At that moment something nudged her bare foot. Momo gave a start and
looked down.
There was Cassiopeia, as large as life, and she could dimly see some
words on the animal's shell: 'HERE I AM AGAIN,' they said.
Without a second thought, Momo grabbed the tortoise and stuffed it
under her jacket. Then she straightened up and peered in all directions,
fearful that some men in grey might still be lurking in the shadows, but all
was quiet.
Cassiopeia kicked and struggled fiercely in an effort to escape.
Holding her tight, Momo peeped inside the jacket and whispered, 'Please keep
still!'
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'WHY ALL THE FUSS?' demanded Cassiopeia. 'You mustn't be seen!' Momo
hissed. The next words to appear on the tortoise's shell were, 'AREN'T YOU
GLAD?'
'Of course,' Momo said with a catch in her voice. 'Of course I am.
You've no idea!' And she kissed Cassiopeia on the nose, several times in
quick succession.
Cassiopeia responded with two rather pink words. 'STEADY ON,'they read.
Momo smiled. 'Have you been looking for me all this time?' 'OF COURSE.'
'But how did you happen to find me here and now?' 'I KNEW I WOULD,' was
the laconic reply. Had Cassiopeia spent all those weeks looking for her
although she knew she wouldn't find her? If so, she needn't really have
bothered to look at all. This was yet another of Cassiopeia's little
mysteries. They made Memo's head spin if she thought about them too hard,
and besides, this was scarcely the moment to puzzle over such problems.
Momo gave the tortoise a whispered account of what had happened since
last they met. 'What should we do now?' she concluded.
Cassiopeia had been listening attentively. 'GO TO HORA,' she spelled
out.
'Now?' Momo exclaimed, aghast. 'But they're looking for you everywhere.
This is the only place they don't happen to be. Wouldn't it be wiser to stay
here?'
But all the tortoise's shell said was, 'WE'RE GOING ANYWAY.'
'We'll run right into them,' Momo protested. 'WON'T MEET A SOUL,' was
Cassiopeia's response. If Cassiopeia was sure, that settled it. Momo put her
down. Then, remembering their first long, arduous trek, she suddenly felt
too exhausted to repeat it all over again.
205
'You go on alone, Cassiopeia,' she said wearily. 'I'm too tired. Go on
alone, and give the professor my love.'
Cassiopeia's shell lit up again. 'IT'S NOT FAR,' Momo was astonished to
read. It dawned on her, as she looked around, that this shabby and
desolate-looking neighbourhood might be the one that led to the district
with the white houses and the strange shadows. If so, she might after all be
able to make it as far as Never Lane and Nowhere House.
'All right,' she said, 'I'll come too, but wouldn't it be quicker if I
carried you?'
'AFRAID NOT,' Cassiopeia replied.
'Why should you insist on crawling there by yourself?' Momo said, but
all she got was the enigmatic reply: 'THE WAY'S INSIDE ME.'
On that note the tortoise set off with Momo following slowly, step by
step.
They had only just disappeared down a side street when the shadows
around the square came to life and the air was filled with a brittle sound
like the snapping of dry twigs: the men in grey were chuckling triumphantly.
Some of their number, who had stayed behind to keep a surreptitious watch on
Momo, had witnessed her reunion with Cassiopeia. The wait had been a long
one, but not even they had dreamed that it would yield such results.
'There they go!' whispered one grey voice. 'Shall we nab them?'
'Of course not,' hissed another. 'Let them carry on.'
'Why?' demanded the first voice. 'Our orders were to capture the
tortoise at all costs.'
'Yes, but why do we want it?'
'So it can lead us to ®£ .'
'Precisely, that's just what it's doing now. We won't even have to use
force. It's showing us the way of its own free will - unintentionally.'
206
Another dry chuckle went up from the shadows around the square.
'Pass the word at once. Call off the search and instruct all Agents to
join us here. Tell them to exercise the utmost care, though. None of us must
be seen by our two unsuspecting guides or get in their way. They're to be
given free passage wherever they go. And now, gentlemen, let's follow at our
leisure.'
It was hardly surprising, under these circumstances, that Momo and
Cassiopeia failed to encounter a single one of their pursuers. Whichever way
they went, the men in grey melted away in good time and joined the rear of
the evergrowing procession that was silently, cautiously, following in the
fugitives' wake.
Momo was wearier than she had ever been in her life. There were times
when she thought she would simply sink to the ground and fall asleep at any
moment, but she forced herself to put one foot before the other, and for a
while things went better. If only Cassiopeia wouldn't crawl along at such a
snail's pace, she thought, but it couldn't be helped. She trudged along,
looking neither right nor left, only at her feet and the tortoise.
After an eternity, or so it seemed to Momo, the surface of the street
grew suddenly paler. She wrenched her leaden eyelids open and looked around.
Yes, they had finally reached the district where the light was neither
that of dawn nor dusk, and where all the shadows ran in different
directions. There were the forbidding white houses with the cavernous black
windows, and there was the peculiar, egglike monument on its black stone
plinth.
At the thought that it wouldn't be long before she saw Professor Hora
again. Memo's courage revived. 'Please,' she said to Cassiopeia, 'couldn't
we go a bit faster?'
'MORE HASTE LESS SPEED,' came the reply, and
207
the tortoise crawled on even more slowly than before. Yet Momo noticed,
as she had the first time, that they made better progress that way. It was
as if the street beneath them glided past more quickly the slower they went.
That, of course, was the secret of the district with the snow-white
houses: the slower you went the better progress you made, and the more you
hurried the slower your rate of advance. The men in grey hadn't known that
when they pursued Momo in their cars, which was how she'd escaped them.
But that was the last time. Things were quite different now that they
had no intention of overtaking the girl and the tortoise. Now, because they
were trailing them at exactly the same speed, they had discovered the
secret. Gradually, the streets behind Momo and Cassiopeia became filled with
an army of men in grey. And as the pursuers grew accustomed to the
peculiarities of the district, they went even slower than their quarry, with
the result that they steadily overhauled them. It was like a race in reverse
- a go-slow race.
On and on the strange procession went, further and further into the
dazzling white glow, weaving back and forth through the dream streets until
it came to the corner of Never Lane.
Cassiopeia turned into the lane and crawled towards Nowhere House.
Momo, remembering that she'd failed to make any headway until she turned
around and walked backwards, did the same again.
And that was when her heart stood still.
The time-thieves, like a grey wall on the move, stretched away for as
far as the eye could see, rank upon rank of them filling the entire width of
the street.
Momo cried out in terror, but she couldn't hear her own voice. She
walked backwards down Never Lane, staring wide-eyed at the advancing host of
men in grey.
But then another strange thing happened. As soon as the leaders tried
to enter the lane, they vanished before her very
208
eyes. Their outstretched hands were the first to disappear, then their
legs and bodies, and last of all their faces, which wore a look of surprise
and horror.
But Momo wasn't the only one to have witnessed this phenomenon. It had
also been seen by the men in grey who were following behind. They shrank
back, bracing themselves to resist the pressure of those still advancing in
the rear, and something of a scuffle ensued. Momo saw her pursuers scowl and
shake their fists, but they dared not pursue her any further.
At last she reached Nowhere House. The big bronze door swung open. She
darted inside, raced down the corridor lined with statues, opened the tiny
door at the other end, ducked through it, ran across the great hall to the
little room enclosed by grandfather clocks, threw herself down on the dainty
little sofa, and, not wanting to see or hear anything more, buried her head
under a cushion.
NINETEEN
Under Siege
A genrie voice was speaKing.
Momo emerged by degrees from the depths of a dreamless sleep, feeling
wonderfully rested and refreshed. 'Momo isn't to blame,' she heard the voice
say, 'but you, Cassiopeia - you should have known better.'
Momo opened her eyes. Professor Hora was sitting at the little table in
front of the sofa, looking ruefully down at the tortoise. 'Didn't it occur
to you,' he went on, 'that the men in grey might follow you?'
There wasn't room on Cassiopeia's shell for all she had to say, so she
had to reply in three instalments: 'I CAN ONLY SEE-HALF AN HOUR AHEAD - TOO
LATE BY THEN.'
Professor Hora sighed and shook his head. 'Oh, Cassiopeia, Cassiopeia,
even I find you puzzling sometimes.'
Momo sat up.
'Ah, our guest is awake,' Professor Hora said kindly. 'I hope you're
feeling better?'
'Much better, thank you,' said Momo. 'Please excuse me for falling
asleep on your sofa.'
The professor smiled. 'It's quite all right, you've no need to
apologize. Cassiopeia has already brought me up to date on anything I failed
to see through my omnivision glasses.'
'What are the men in grey doing?' Momo asked anxiously.
Professor Hora produced a big blue handkerchief from his pocket. 'We're
under siege. They have us completely sur-
210
rounded - that's to say, they're as close to Nowhere House as they can
get.'
'But they can't get in, can they?' Momo said. The professor blew his
nose. 'No, they can't. You saw for yourself, they vanish into thin air if
they so much as set foot in Never Lane.'
Momo looked mystified. 'Yes, but I don't know why.' 'It's temporal
suction that does it,' the professor told her. 'Everything has to be done
backwards in Never Lane, as you know, because time runs in reverse around
this house. Normally, time flows into you. The more time you have inside
you, the older you get, but in Never Lane time flows out of you. You grew
younger while you were coming up the lane. Not much younger - only as much
younger as the time you took to get from one end to the other.' 'I didn't
notice anything,' Momo said, still mystified. 'That's because you're a human
being,' the professor said with a smile. 'There's a lot more to human beings
than the rime they carry around inside them, but it's different with the men
in grey. Stolen time is all they consist of, and that disappears in a flash
when they're exposed to temporal suction. It escapes like air from a burst
balloon, the only difference being that a balloon's skin survives. In their
case, there's nothing left at all.'
Momo knit her brow and thought hard. 'Wouldn't it be possible,' she
asked at length, 'to make time run backwards all over the world? Only for a
little while, I mean. It wouldn't matter if people grew a tiny bit younger,
but the time-thieves would be reduced to nothing.'
The professor smiled again. 'A splendid idea, I grant you, but I'm
afraid it wouldn't work. The two currents are in balance, you see. If you
cancelled one, the other would vanish too. Then there'd be no time left . .
.'
He broke off and pushed his omnivision glasses up so that they rested
on his forehead.
211
'On the other hand ...' he murmured. Momo watched him expectantly as he
paced up and down the room a few times, lost in thought, and Cassiopeia
followed him with her wise old eyes. At length he sat down again.
'You've given me an idea,' he said, 'but I couldn't put it into
practice unaided.' He looked down at the tortoise. 'Cassiopeia, my dear, I'd
like your opinion on something. What's the best thing to do when you're
under siege?'
'HAVE BREAKFAST,' came the reply.
'Quite so,' said the professor. 'That's another splendid idea.'
The table was laid in a flash. Whether or not it had been laid all the
time and Momo simply hadn't noticed, everything was in place: the two little
cups, the pot of steaming chocolate, the honey, butter and crusty rolls.
Momo, whose mouth had often watered at the recollection of her first
delicious, golden-hued breakfast at Nowhere House, tucked in at once.
Everything tasted even better than before, if possible, and this time the
professor tucked in heartily too.
'Professor,' Momo said after a while, with her cheeks still bulging,
'they want you to give them all the time that exists. You won't, though,
will you?'
'No, child,' he replied, 'that I'll never do. Time will come to an end
some day, but not until people don't need it any longer. The men in grey
won't get any time from me - not even a split second.'
'But they say they can make you hand it over,' Momo said.
'Before we go into that,' the professor told her, very gravely, 'I'd
like you to look at them for yourself.'
All she saw to begin with was the kaleidoscope of colours and shapes
that had made her so dizzy the first time, but it wasn't long before her
eyes got used to the omnivision lenses. And then the besieging army swam
into focusi
212
The men in grey were drawn up in a long, long line, shoulder to
shoulder, not only across the mouth of Never Lane but all around the
district with the snow-white houses. They formed an unbroken cordon, and the
mid-point of that cordon was Nowhere House.
But then Momo noticed something else - something strange. Her first
thought was that the lenses of the omnivision glasses needed polishing, or
that she hadn't quite grown used to them yet, because the outlkies of the
men in grey looked misty. She soon realized that this blurring had nothing
to do with the lenses or her eyes: the mist was real, and it was rising from
the streets all around, dense and impenetrable in some places, only just
forming in others.
The men in grey were standing absolutely still, all wearing bowlers and
carrying briefcases, and all smoking little grey cigars. But the smoke from
the cigars didn't disperse in the normal way. Here, where the air seemed
made of glass and was never disturbed by a breath of wind, the threads of
smoke clung like cobwebs, creeping along the streets and up the walls of the
snow-white houses, festooning each ledge and cornice and windowsill,
condensing into a noisome, bluish-green fog bank that billowed ever higher
until it encircled Nowhere House like a wall.
Momo took off the glasses and looked at Professor Hora inquiringly.
'Have you seen enough?' he asked. 'Then let me have the glasses back.'
He put them on again. 'You asked if the men in grey could make me do
something against my will,' he went on. 'Well, they can't get at me
personally, as you know, but they could subject the world to an evil far
worse than any they've inflicted on it so far. That's how they hope to force
my hand.'
Momo was appalled. 'What could be worse than stealing people's time?'
she asked. 'I allot people their share of time,' the professor explained.
213
'The men in grey can't stop that. They can't intercept the time I
distribute, but they can poison it.'
'They can poison it?' Œ®£«® repeated, more appalled still.
The professor nodded. 'Yes, with the smoke from their cigars. Have you
ever seen one without his little grey cigar? Of course not, because without
it he couldn't exist.'
'What kind of cigars are they?' Momo asked.
'You remember where the hour-lilies were growing?' Professor Hora said.
'I told you then that everyone has a place like that, because everyone has a
heart. If people allow the men in grey to gain a foothold there, more and
more of their hour-lilies get stolen. But hour-lilies plucked from a
person's heart can't die, because they've never really withered. They can't
live, either, because they've been parted from their rightful owner. They
strive with every fibre of their being to return to the person they belong
to.'
Momo was listening with bated breath.
'If you think I know everything, Momo, you're wrong. Some evils are
wrapped in mystery. I've no idea where the men in grey keep their stolen
hour-lilies. I only know that they preserve the blossoms by freezing them
till they're as hard as glass goblets. Somewhere deep underground there must
be a gigantic cold store.'
Memo's cheeks began to burn with indignation.
'And that's where the men in grey draw their supplies from. They pull
off the hour-lilies' petals, let them wither till they're dried up and grey,
and roll their little cigars out of them. The petals still contain remnants
of life, even then, but living time is harmful to the men in grey, so they
light the cigars and smoke them. Only when time has been converted into
smoke is it well and truly dead. That's what keeps the men in grey "alive":
dead human time.'
Momo had risen to her feet. 'Oh,' she exclaimed, 'to think of all those
poor flowers, all that dead time . ..'
'Yes, the wall they're erecting around this house is built of
214
ucad time. There's still enough open sky above for me to send people
their time in good condition, but once that pall of smoke closes over our
heads, every hour I send them will be contaminated with the time-thieves'
poison. When they absorb it, it'll make them ill.'
Momo stared at the professor uncomprehendingly. 'What kind of illness
is it?' she asked in a low voice.
'A fatal illness, though you scarcely notice it at first. One day, you
don't feel like doing anything. -Nothing interests you, everything bores
you. Far from wearing off, your boredom persists and gets worse, day by day
and week by week. You feel more and more bad-tempered, more and more empty
inside, more and more dissatisfied with yourself and the world in general.
Then even that feeling wears off, and you don't feel anything any more. You
become completely indifferent to what goes on around you. Joy and sorrow,
anger and excitement are things of the past. You forget how to laugh and cry
- you're cold inside and incapable of loving anything or anyone. Once you
reach that stage, the disease is incurable. There's no going back. You
bustle around with a blank, grey face, just like the men in grey themselves
-indeed, you've joined their ranks. The disease has a name. It's called
deadly tedium.'
Momo shivered. 'You mean,' she said, 'unless you hand over all the time
there is, they'll turn people into creatures like themselves?'
'Yes,' the professor replied. 'That's how they hope to bully me into
it.' He rose and turned away. 'I've waited till now for people to get rid of
those pests. They could have done so -after all, it was they who brought
them into existence in the lirst place - but I can't wait any longer. I must
do something, •ind I can't do it on my own.' He looked Momo in the eye.
'Will you help me?' 'Yes,' she whispered. 'If you do, you'll be running an
incalculable risk. It will be
215
up to you wnerncr me wona oegins to live again or stands stili for ever
and a day. Are you really prepared to take that risk?'
'Yes', Momo repeated, and this time her voice was firm.
'In that case,' said the professor, 'listen carefully to what I'm going
to tell you, because you'll be all on your own. I won't be able to help you,
nor will anyone else.'
Momo nodded, gazing at him intently.
'I must begin by telling you that I never sleep,' he said. 'If I dozed
off, time would stand still and the world would come to a stop. If there
were no more time, the men in grey would have none left to steal. They could
continue to exist for a while by using up their vast reserves, but once
those had gone they would dissolve into thin air.'
'Then the answer's simple, surely?' said Momo.
'Not as simple as it sounds, I'm afraid, or I wouldn't need your help.
The trouble is, if there were no more time I couldn't wake up again, and the
world would continue to stand still for all eternity. It does, however, lie
within my power to give you - and you alone - an hour-lily. Only one, of
course, because only one ever blooms at a time. So, if time stopped all over
the world, you would still have one hour's grace.'
'Then I could wake you,' said Momo.
The professor shook his head. 'That would achieve nothing, because the
men in grey have far too much time in reserve. They would consume very
little of it in an hour, so they'd still be there when the hour was up. No,
Momo, the problem is a great deal harder than that. As soon as the men in
grey notice that time has stopped - and it won't take them long, because
their supply of cigars will be interrupted -they'll lift the siege and head
for their secret store. You must follow them and prevent them from reaching
it. When their cigars are finished, they'll be finished too. But then comes
what may well turn out to be the hardest part of all. Once the last of the
time-thieves has vanished, you must release every stolen minute, because
only when people get their time back
216
win i wane up and the world come to life again. And all this you'll
have to do within the space of a single hour.'
Momo hadn't reckoned with such a host of difficulties and dangers. She
stared at him helplessly.
'Will you try all the same?' the professor asked. 'It's our only
chance.'
Momo couldn't bring herself to speak, she found the prospect so
daunting. At that moment, Cassiopeia's shell lit up. 'I'LL COME TOO,' it
signalled.
Unlikely as it seemed that the tortoise could be of help, the words
conjured up a tiny ray of hope. Momo felt heartened at the thought of not
being entirely alone. Although there were no rational grounds for such a
feeling, it did at least enable her to make up her mind. 'I'll try,' she
said resolutely.
Professor ®£ gave her a long look and started to smile. 'Many things
will prove easier than you think. You've heard the music of the stars. You
mustn't feel frightened.' He turned to the tortoise. 'So you want to go too,
do you?'
'OF COURSE,' Cassiopeia spelled out. Then, 'SOMEONE HAS TO LOOK AFTER
HER.' The professor and Momo smiled at each other. 'Will she get an
hour-lily too?' Momo asked. 'She doesn't need one,' the professor replied,
gently tickling the tortoise's neck. 'Cassiopeia is a creature from beyond
the frontiers of time. She carries her own little supply of time inside her.
She could go on crawling across the face of the earth even if everything
else stood still for ever.'
'Good,' said Momo, suddenly eager to get on with the job. 'What happens
next?'
'Now,' said the professor, 'we say goodbye.' Momo felt a lump in her
throat. 'Won't we ever see each other again?' she asked softly. 'Of course
we will,' he told her, 'and until that day comes,
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every hour of your life will bring you my love. We'll always be
friends, won't we?'
Momo nodded.
'I'm going now,' the professor went on, 'but you mustn't follow me or
ask where I'm going. My sleep is no ordinary sleep, and I'd sooner you
weren't there. One last thing: as soon as I'm gone, you must open both
doors, the little one with my name on it and the big bronze one that leads
into Never Lane. Once time has stopped, everything will stand still and no
power on earth will be able to budge those doors. Have you understood and
memorized all I've told you?'
'Yes,' said Momo, 'but how shall I know when time has stopped?'
'You'll know, never fear.'
They both stood up. Professor Hora gently stroked Momo's tousled mop of
hair. 'Goodbye, Momo,' he said, 'and thank you for listening so carefully.'
'I'm going to tell everyone about you,' she replied, 'when it's all
over.'
From one moment to the next. Professor Hora looked as old as he had
when he carried her into the golden dome - as old as an ancient tree or
primeval crag.
Turning away, he walked swiftly out of the little room whose walls
consisted of grandfather clocks. Momo heard his footsteps fade until they
were indistinguishable from the ticking of the countless clocks around her.
Their incessant whirring and ticking and chiming seemed to have swallowed
him up.
Momo took Cassiopeia in her arms and held her tight. Her great
adventure had begun. There could be no turning back.
TWENTY
Pursuing the Pursuers
Momo's first step was to open the little door with Professor Hora's
name on it. Then she sped along the corridor lined with statues and opened
the big bronze front door. She had to exert all her strength because it was
so heavy.
That done, she ran back to the great hall and waited, with Cassiopeia
in her arms, to see what would happen.
She didn't have to wait long. There was a sudden jolt, but it didn't
actually shake the ground. It was a timequake, so to speak, not an
earthquake. No words could describe the sensation, which was accompanied by
a sound such as no human ear had ever heard before: a sigh that seemed to
issue from the depths of the ages. And then it was over.
Simultaneously, the innumerable clocks stopped ticking, whirring and
chiming. Pendulums came to a sudden halt and stayed put at odd angles. The
silence that fell was more profound than any that had ever reigned before.
Time itself was standing still.
As for Momo, she became aware that she was clasping the stem of an
hour-lily of exceptional size and beauty. She hadn't felt anyone put it into
her hand. It simply appeared, as if it had always been there.
Gingerly, Momo took a step. Sure enough, she could move as easily as
ever. The remains of breakfast were still on the table. She sat down on one
of the little armchairs, but the seat was as hard as marble and didn't yield
an inch. There was a mouthful of chocolate left in her cup, but the cup
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wouldn't move either. She tried dipping her fingers in the dregs, but
they were as hard as butterscotch. So was the honey, and even the crumbs
were stuck fast to the plates. Now that time had stopped, everything else
was immovable too.
Cassiopeia had started to fidget. Looking down, Momo saw some words on
her shell. 'YOU'RE WASTING TIME!' she read.
Heavens alive, so she was! Momo pulled herself together. She hurried
through the forest of clocks to the little door, squeezed through it and ran
along the passage to the front door. She peered out, then darted back in
panic. Her heart began to thump furiously. Far from running away, the
time-thieves were streaming towards her up Never Lane. They could do that,
of course, now time had ceased to flow in reverse there, but she hadn't
allowed for the possibility.
She raced back to the great hall and, still clutching Cassiopeia, hid
behind a massive grandfather clock. 'That's a good start,' she muttered
ruefully.
Then she heard the men in grey come marching along the corridor. They
squeezed through the little door, one after another, until a whole crowd of
them had assembled inside.
'So this is our new headquarters,' said one, surveying the vast room.
'Very impressive.'
'That girl let us in,' said another grey voice. 'I distinctly saw her
open the door, the sensible child. I wonder how she managed to get around
the old man.'
'If you ask me,' said a third voice, 'the old man's knuckled under. If
time has stopped flowing in Never Lane, it can only mean he switched it off
himself. In other words, he knows he's beaten. Where is he, the old
mischief-maker? Let's finish him off!'
The men in grey were looking around when one of them had a sudden
thought. His voice sounded even greyer, if possible, than the rest.
'Something's wrong, gentlemen,' he
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said. 'The clocks - look at the clocks! Every one of them has stopped,
even this hourglass here.'
. 'I suppose he must have stopped them,' another voice said
uncertainly.
'You can't stop an hourglass,' the first man in grey retorted. 'See for
yourselves, gentlemen - the sand's suspended in mid-air and the hourglass
itself won't budge! What does it mean?'
He was still speaking when footsteps came pounding along the corridor
and yet another man in grey squeezed through the little door, gesticulating
wildly. 'We've just had word from our agents in the city,' he announced.
'Their cars have stopped, and so has everything else - the world's at a
standstill. There isn't a microsecond of time to be had anywhere. Our
supplies have been cut off. Time has ceased to exist. Hora has switched it
off!'
There was a deathly hush. Then someone said, 'What do you mean,
switched it off? What'll become of us when we've finished the cigars we're
smoking?'
'What'll become of us?' shouted someone else. 'You know that perfectly
well. This is disastrous, gentlemen!'
They all began to shout at once. 'Hora's planning to destroy us!' - 'We
must lift the siege at once!' - 'We must try to reach the time store!' -
'Without our cars? We'll never make it in time!' - 'My cigar won't last me
more than twenty-seven minutes!' - 'Mine will last me forty-eight!' - 'Give
it to me, then!' - 'Are you crazy? It's every man for himself!'
There was a concerted rush for the little door. From her hiding place,
Momo saw panic-stricken grey figures trying to squeeze through it, jostling,
scuffling and swapping punches in a desperate attempt to save their grey
lives. The rush became a violent melee as they knocked each other's hats
off, wrestled with each other, snatched the cigars from each other's mouths.
And whenever they lost their cigars, they seemed to lose every ounce of
strength as well. They stood
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there with their arms outstretched and a plaintive, terrified
expression on their faces, growing more and more transparent until they
finally vanished. Nothing remained of them, not even their hats.
In the end, only three men in grey were left. They ducked through the
little door, one after the other, and scuttled off down the passage.
Momo, with Cassiopeia under one arm and her free hand tightly clutching
the hour-lily, ran after them. All now depended on her keeping them in
sight.
She saw, when she emerged from the front door, that they had already
reached the mouth of Never Lane. More smoke-wreathed men in grey were
standing there, talking and gesticulating excitedly. As soon as they caught
sight of the three fugitives from Nowhere House, they started running too.
Others joined in the stampede, and soon the whole army had taken to its
heels. 'More haste less speed' no longer applied, of course, now that time
was at a standstill. An endless column of grey figures streamed towards the
city through the strange, dreamlike district with its snow-white houses and
oddly assorted shadows, past the monument resembling an egg, until it came
to the grey, shabby tenements inhabited by people who lived on the edge of
time. Here too, though, everything was still and silent.
What followed was a chase in reverse - a chase in which countless grey
figures were pursued through the city, at a discreet distance behind the
last of the stragglers, by a girl with a flower in her hand and a tortoise
under her arm.
But how strange the city looked now! Long lines of cars choked the
streets with the fumes from their exhausts solidified, and behind each wheel
sat a motionless driver, one hand frozen on horn or gear lever. Momo even
caught sight of one driver who had been immobilized while glaring at his
neigh-
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hour and meamngtully tapping his forehead. Cyclists were poised at road
junctions with their arms extended, signalling right or left, and the people
thronging the pavements resembled waxwork figures.
Traffic policemen stood at crossroads, whistles in their mouths, caught
in the act of waving the traffic on. A flock of pigeons hovered motionless
above a square, and high overhead, as though painted on the sky, was an
equally motionless aeroplane. The water in the fountains might