The Spear-Carriers

Bernard reclined on the divan and watched Stouffer pace. Every so often the pudgy man would pause, haul a pocketwatch out of his waistcoat, and mumble into his mustache.

“Running out of time,” Stouffer mumbled.

“They’ll be back,” said Bernard. “You know they will, else we wouldn’t still be here.”

“We know they haven’t failed, that’s all,” said Stouffer. The butler clanked in with more drinks.

“Bloody thing needs oiling,” said Bernard, sipping delicately. “What time is it, anyway?” he asked, seeing Stouffer pulling out his watch once again.

“Stopped,” said Stouffer, letting it dangle by its chain. “Still stopped.”