Читать книгу The Man Who Loved Lions - Ethel Lina White - Страница 10

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In that moment, her courage died and she turned to run. The gossip in the bus acquired a double-edge as she realised that the Zoo was no longer the Garden of Eden of seven years before. It contained savage beasts which were controlled by human agency...And it was admitted that the personal element is fallible.

A few steps across the road would bring her flush with the little public house which was a fare stage. Common sense urged her to catch the next bus back to the tube terminus. It would stop by the station entrance and from there, it was almost a straight run back into her bedroom at the hotel.

As she hesitated, she remembered one of the rare occasions in the past when Stephen had seemed aware of her existence.

"Promise me you'll never meet Richard alone, or go to Ganges without the gang," he said earnestly.

"But you're pally with him," she reminded him.

"Different for me. I cultivate him because he's such a clever devil. He's a sadist and he talks a lot of smut, but when I've chucked out the husks, I can usually get a grain of something useful from him."

He added abruptly, "Don't be impressed by the parrot-talk you hear at Ganges. There's nothing to it. The monkeys at the Zoo can put on a better show."

At that moment she felt the force of his warning. But the memory had reminded her too vividly of Stephen. After waiting seven years for this evening, it would be contemptible cowardice to turn back. All she had to do was to obey instructions—"KEEP TO PATH"—and she would be safe.

When she flashed her torch before her, she was relieved to see that the way was marked with whitened stones. She was surprised to find it unchanged—going uphill and into hollows—because the gossip in the bus had led her to expect altered conditions. When she left England, Sir Benjamin Watson was not only wealthy but he had expectations from a millionaire uncle who was being kept alive, in spite of the total loss of his faculties from senile decay.

The fact that Sir Benjamin had given a Spitfire to the nation seemed to prove that he had come into his inheritance and was now a very rich man. In the circumstances, it seemed strange to find no improvements in the property. Ganges was built on rough rising ground and its natural features were preserved without any attempt at landscape-gardening. There was a ravine, a wood, a lake and a hillock, while the house was reached by a path which climbed a humpy pasture.

Soon Ann began to regret the absence of a properly-made drive. Whoever was responsible for blazing out the trail had apparently assumed that strangers were as familiar with the scene as himself. In places the number of stones was skimped and the white paint had worn off so many that it became difficult to keep to the path. She felt ruts underfoot and blundered into a bush which blocked her way, only to find on the other side a field of coarse grass, unbroken by any track.

As she stopped to plot her course she thought of the unlucky errand-boy who had lost his way also. Her presence was unauthorised—even as his—and she must accept any consequence of trespassing on forbidden territory.

"Go on?" she asked herself. "Or go back and try to find where I went wrong? But Perce climbed palings, so the big idea would be to avoid short-cuts...I'll go on."

She had hardly made the decision when she found her way blocked by a strong stockade.

"Palings," she said. "Definitely this is where I go back."

While she stood there she heard voices on the other side of the enclosure. They were too far away for successful listening-in, but she got the impression of an argument. One voice sounded so blurred and stupid as to be unhuman; it seemed to protest against some course while the other voice urged encouragement.

Suddenly she managed to distinguish words. "All right...Come on, old man...Sleep it off...Soon be all right."

"Well," she reflected, "if one of them is Caliban, the other appears to be civilised. If I could make him hear he might direct me to the tower door."

Before she could cup her mouth something blotted out the stars in the patch of sky before her—something long and sinuous that writhed in the air like a serpent.

She recognised it as an elephant's trunk and turned to run. Had it been daylight, she would have felt no fear, but the darkness turned any encounter into a risk of being crushed. Mrs. Noah, in the bus, had declared that you might stumble upon anything. She realised that the country people were strongly opposed to the Zoo and that probably they had good reason for their indignation.

Although the monster was on the other side of the palings, those blurred voices had destroyed her confidence. If a keeper were drunk, he might leave a gate open, so that the animals could wander over the pasture. Flashing her torch before her she stumbled wildly down a slope, until the light shone on a line of uneven white stones.

In her fright she had forgotten the reunion and the tower-room. With a shock of surprise she found herself in a small paved courtyard which seemed familiar. There was a sundial in the centre and a damp flagged path led up to a small lancet-shaped wooden door.

It was the entrance to the tower-room. When she turned the handle she discovered that it was unlocked, as though in expectation of guests. She entered a dark lobby and stood at the foot of the winding stone stair, listening for the sound of voices from above. In the old days one always heard the excited hum, like grasshoppers on a hot day. But now the only sound was a distant elephant's trumpet—high and thin as though it were calling a retreat.

A rush of questions hurtled in her mind. Was any one waiting up in the tower? Who would it be? Stephen—or Richard, against whom she had been warned? When she remembered the myriad times she had looked forward to that moment, it seemed ironic that she actually feared to mount the steps. At last she found the courage and crept upwards, straining her ears for any sound that might warn her of danger.

As she reached the last spiral she saw a beam of electric light shining from the tower-room. This was contrary to precedent, for their meetings were lit only by the flames from a coal fire. As she saw the place distinctly for the first time, its glamour was destroyed with its loss of mystery. It was smaller than she had imagined, with blacked-out windows set high in the walls. There were the same shabby divan and chairs which were never occupied, since they preferred to sprawl upon cushions piled before the fire. The table at the back which used to be crowded with bottles and heaped plates now held only a decanter. The grate was empty and its coals replaced with electric-current.

Someone was sitting slumped in one of the deep chairs. He rose as she entered and held out an unsteady hand. It was a big fair man—her fellow-passenger in the train and bus.

"Hallo," he said. "Who are you? I am John."