islands spread through the theatre. Suddenly there were ooooohs and aaaaaahs all around.
‘What is that heavenly smell?’ someone cried.
‘It reminds me of ocean breezes and coral reefs,’ someone else said. ‘I feel like I’ve just gone on holidays.’
‘Forget the Composure stuff, Mr Pierre,’ a woman said. ‘Where can we buy some of this?’
Dr Trifle searched his pockets for the bottle. Soon one of Pierre’s assistants located the bottle of Smell-O-Surf, sniffed it and put the lid back on.
‘Whose perfume is this?’ Pierre demanded.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I’m afraid this one’s mine.’
‘Yours?’ Pierre said. ‘Why did you want to ruin my beautiful launch?!’
‘I-I didn’t,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I don’t know how it got there. Honestly, I don’t.’
Selby chuckled to himself as everyone crowded around Dr Trifle.
‘Where can we buy this beautiful fragrance?’ they demanded.
‘I don’t have any more,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Only what’s in that bottle. I guess I could make some more though. It’s really not difficult to make.’
‘Get out of here, all of you ungrateful people!’ Pierre screamed. ‘You are stupid, uncouth country people! You know nothing! I have wasted my time with you! Out! Out!’
Everyone filed out of the theatre. Pierre was standing stiffly in the doorway as Dr and Mrs Trifle went out.
‘We’re terribly sorry,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘We really don’t know what happened.’
‘I will tell you one thing,’ Pierre said. ‘I am never coming back to this terrible town!’
‘I quite understand,’ Dr Trifle said politely, adding, ‘Oh, by the way, may I have my perfume back?’
‘I don’t know where it is,’ Pierre said.
‘But one of your assistants had it,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘Then it is a mystery,’ Pierre said, blowing his nose in his silk handkerchief. ‘He must have thrown it away.’
‘Never mind,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘I can make some more.’
‘That guy’s lying,’ Selby thought. ‘One of these guys has Dr Trifle’s perfume. Now they’ll take it back to their laboratory and figure out how to make it. He’s just stolen Dr Trifle’s formula! And now Pierre will make grillions of dollars from it! Crumbs — and it’s all my fault.’
Just then, Selby smelled a faint smell of Smell-O-Surf. For a second he was back in the tropics lying on the beach. In his daydream hegot up, stretched, and looked up at the coconuts in the palms above him.
‘I’d love a nice sip of coconut milk,’ he thought. ‘Maybe I’ll just climb up and pick a coconut.’
In his mind, Selby leapt halfway up a palm, only to have it fall to the ground under his weight.
Selby came back to reality with a start.
‘Get that savage dog off me!’ a voice cried. ‘He’s trying to kill me!’
Selby opened his eyes and there was Pierre lying on his back on the floor under him.
‘Goodness, Selby,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Get off that man. What’s got into you?’
Mrs Trifle was pulling Selby back by the collar when suddenly Dr Trifle’s perfume bottle rolled out of Pierre’s pocket.
‘Just as I suspected,’ Selby thought. ‘That scoundrel had it all the time!’
‘I believe we’ve just located the bottle,’ Dr Trifle said, picking it up. ‘Come along, Selby. I think you’ve solved our little mystery.’
‘So I have,’ Selby thought. ‘Come to think of it, maybe I’m not such a bad sniffer-dog, after all.’
SELBY UNSTUCK
‘Look! Come quickly!’ Mrs Trifle cried.
Dr Trifle came dashing into the study with Selby right behind him.
‘What is it, dear?’ the doctor asked. ‘A great discovery!’ Mrs Trifle said, holding up an old postcard. ‘I found this in the middle of that book about Canada. I suspect that your great, great, great-grandfather, Fred Trifle, wrote it to your great, great, great-grandmother, Matilda, before they were married.’
Dr Trifle held up the postcard and read it:
September 15,
‘What is that heavenly smell?’ someone cried.
‘It reminds me of ocean breezes and coral reefs,’ someone else said. ‘I feel like I’ve just gone on holidays.’
‘Forget the Composure stuff, Mr Pierre,’ a woman said. ‘Where can we buy some of this?’
Dr Trifle searched his pockets for the bottle. Soon one of Pierre’s assistants located the bottle of Smell-O-Surf, sniffed it and put the lid back on.
‘Whose perfume is this?’ Pierre demanded.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I’m afraid this one’s mine.’
‘Yours?’ Pierre said. ‘Why did you want to ruin my beautiful launch?!’
‘I-I didn’t,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I don’t know how it got there. Honestly, I don’t.’
Selby chuckled to himself as everyone crowded around Dr Trifle.
‘Where can we buy this beautiful fragrance?’ they demanded.
‘I don’t have any more,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Only what’s in that bottle. I guess I could make some more though. It’s really not difficult to make.’
‘Get out of here, all of you ungrateful people!’ Pierre screamed. ‘You are stupid, uncouth country people! You know nothing! I have wasted my time with you! Out! Out!’
Everyone filed out of the theatre. Pierre was standing stiffly in the doorway as Dr and Mrs Trifle went out.
‘We’re terribly sorry,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘We really don’t know what happened.’
‘I will tell you one thing,’ Pierre said. ‘I am never coming back to this terrible town!’
‘I quite understand,’ Dr Trifle said politely, adding, ‘Oh, by the way, may I have my perfume back?’
‘I don’t know where it is,’ Pierre said.
‘But one of your assistants had it,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘Then it is a mystery,’ Pierre said, blowing his nose in his silk handkerchief. ‘He must have thrown it away.’
‘Never mind,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘I can make some more.’
‘That guy’s lying,’ Selby thought. ‘One of these guys has Dr Trifle’s perfume. Now they’ll take it back to their laboratory and figure out how to make it. He’s just stolen Dr Trifle’s formula! And now Pierre will make grillions of dollars from it! Crumbs — and it’s all my fault.’
Just then, Selby smelled a faint smell of Smell-O-Surf. For a second he was back in the tropics lying on the beach. In his daydream hegot up, stretched, and looked up at the coconuts in the palms above him.
‘I’d love a nice sip of coconut milk,’ he thought. ‘Maybe I’ll just climb up and pick a coconut.’
In his mind, Selby leapt halfway up a palm, only to have it fall to the ground under his weight.
Selby came back to reality with a start.
‘Get that savage dog off me!’ a voice cried. ‘He’s trying to kill me!’
Selby opened his eyes and there was Pierre lying on his back on the floor under him.
‘Goodness, Selby,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Get off that man. What’s got into you?’
Mrs Trifle was pulling Selby back by the collar when suddenly Dr Trifle’s perfume bottle rolled out of Pierre’s pocket.
‘Just as I suspected,’ Selby thought. ‘That scoundrel had it all the time!’
‘I believe we’ve just located the bottle,’ Dr Trifle said, picking it up. ‘Come along, Selby. I think you’ve solved our little mystery.’
‘So I have,’ Selby thought. ‘Come to think of it, maybe I’m not such a bad sniffer-dog, after all.’
SELBY UNSTUCK
‘Look! Come quickly!’ Mrs Trifle cried.
Dr Trifle came dashing into the study with Selby right behind him.
‘What is it, dear?’ the doctor asked. ‘A great discovery!’ Mrs Trifle said, holding up an old postcard. ‘I found this in the middle of that book about Canada. I suspect that your great, great, great-grandfather, Fred Trifle, wrote it to your great, great, great-grandmother, Matilda, before they were married.’
Dr Trifle held up the postcard and read it:
September 15,
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