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hop personally would be observing everything； seated somewhere at the rear of the long aisle； incognito in the shadows； so this morning everything had to run to perfection。 Even the celebration of the birthday of a minor saint had to be a splendid occasion。
The first anthem was already beginning when the Reverend Jackson took his place。 He knelt briefly； adopting an attitude of piety； eyes closed； lips moving soundlessly； then rose and opened his prayer book。 He knew the words by heart； and this enabled him to focus his attention on the congregation。 It seemed to consist mostly of his own pupils； with just one or two members of the public seated in the rear pews'。 He tried to identify the Bishop； but it was impossible at such a distance。 He had to be there； though。
The anthem was followed by prayers； the first lesson； and then； as the hymn entered its last verse； the Reverend Francis Jackson embarked upon his dignified walk from his seat to the lectern。 The pulpit was only used on Sundays。
The strains of the organ died away and the Reverend Jackson faced the congregation with a benign smile on his angular face。
'O Lord；' he spoke louder than usual to ensure that the Bishop would hear him clearly； and affected an Oxford accent； 'may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be now and always acceptable in Thy sight。'
He paused for a second； his eyes narrowing。 Someone； somewhere； was fidgeting。 He couldn't see who it was； but he could hear it； a kind of rustling； sweet…papers perhaps； a stealthy sliver of chewing gum。。。
Even as the headmaster peered down the aisle； the soft swishing sound increased； like inarticulate whisperings。 He looked upwards； and his jaw dropped in horrified astonishment。 The lofty roof towered above； him； the stonework beautifully carved into figures and designs by craftsmen over the centuries； the sunlight revealing every detail in a variety of colours through the stained…glass windows。 Yet this magnificence went unnoticed as the headmaster saw the tiny flying creatures fluttering crazily； diving； twisting； crashing into carvings； falling； regaining their powers of flight； soaring； diving。
'Bats？ Francis Jackson grunted。
The whole congregation stared at him in amazement。 From where they sat they could not see the bats； and such were the acoustics of the cathedral that they were unable to hear them either。 Choirboys and prefects glanced at each other。 Their headmaster had snapped under the strain at last。 Somebody ought to go to his aid。 His arms were extended as though trying to ward off some invisible attacker； his lips mouthing exhortations of fear as though a devil had possessed his soul。
Bryce…Janson； the head boy； was on his feet； determined to rescue his headmaster before this thing went any further。 He stepped forward； trying to determine a course of action； when the full force of the bat invasion came into view； spiralling down from the roof in a flight of uncontrolled fury； erratic and without any obvious use of their radar。 There must have been at least two or three dozen of the creatures。
The congregation were staring in amazement。 Bryce…Janson stood immobile； as though hypnotised。 The Reverend Jackson was flailing his arms wildly； shouting hysterically。 He had always had a fear of bats； and to him this was a nightmare。 It couldn't be happening。 It was all in the mind； and in front of the Bishop； too！ Something sharp struck him on the forehead and he suddenly knew that it was real enough。 It was then that he started to scream。
Bats zoomed up and down the aisle。 Some of the boys crouched behind the pews in an attempt to dodge them； others ran blindly for the exit。 An elderly woman； a regular at most services； fell to the floor in a faint。
Jackson was surrounded by several choristers who were attempting to drag him to the safety of the vestry； but he seemed to have lost all control of himself； lashing out blindly with his fists。 One surplice…clad boy fell to the floor； clutching at a broken nose from which blood poured freely。
'Calm yourself； sir！' Bryce…Janson caught the headmaster from behind； pinioning his arms。
'Let go of me； stupid boy！'
The strength of the man was superior to that of the boy； and Bryce…Janson was sent spinning； tripping and sprawling headlong on the altar steps。 A bat flew at him； dropped to the floor with the impact； and then took off again。
'Calm yourselves； everyone！' A tall； white…haired man was attempting to restore order in the aisle。 Under normal circumstances the Bishop's voice would have manded instant obedience； but now he was pushed rudely aside。 The door was open and boys were fighting one another to get out。
Francis Jackson lay on the stone floor； panting； his face deathly white。 Something alighted on his outstretched fingers； and with a shriek of terror he snatched his hand away。 The bat swooped upwards； glanced off a stone pillar and then embarked upon a zig…zag course towards the roof。
All but a dozen or so boys were outside in the open air by this time。 The Bishop had gone to the assistance of his prebendary； kneeling beside the semi…conscious Jackson and muttering soothingly in his ear。 Then； as suddenly as it had begun； the aerial attack ceased。 One or two of the bats were to be seen high up in the roof； clinging to the stonework； but the majority had vanished as though answering some strange call to return whence they had e。 The clamour of voices died away； and a few of those boys who had fled began tiptoeing back into the cathedral； shameful expressions on their faces； each one of them hoping that their own individual show of cowardice had gone unnoticed in the mass melee。
'We had better help the headmaster back to the school；' the Bishop said to Bryce…Janson。 'I think he is only suffering from shock； but we'd better let Matron have a look at him。'
The red…headed boy with the broken nose was clutching a saturated crimson handkerchief to his injury。 Nobody seemed particularly interested in him； and he began to cry。
Within ten minutes the cathedral was empty except for the Bishop and the Head Verger。 The latter； a short； plump man； fidgeted unfortably under the steely gaze of the other。
The Bishop glanced upwards； but there was not a bat to be seen； 'Bryant where did all these bats e from？'
'I've no idea； Bishop；' the verger muttered。 'We've not had a bat in the cathedral for years； not since one dropped down on to the altar during the carol service a few Christmases ago。 Mind you； there's usually one or two flying around outside at night。'
'But this was absolute madness！ So many of them； and in the daytime； too。'
'It could be that the contractors working on the main spire disturbed a nest of them； Bishop。'
'Yes； yes； that's a point；' The holy man seemed relieved at the prospect of a logical explanation。 'Of course。 Well； perhaps you would have a word with the contractors。 If there are bats in any quantity in the spire； then I think we ought to contact a firm of