Читать книгу The Man Who Loved Lions - Ethel Lina White - Страница 4

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"After all these years," she thought, "it has come at last. I can't believe it. It's to-night..."

Seven years ago, on a wild November evening, high up in a turret-room which seemed to sway in the wind, this reunion had been arranged. Richard—their host—handed to each guest a card of typed instructions, reflecting his peculiar humour which specialised in insult.

Reunion of THE SULLIED SOULS at Ganges, November the fourteenth, 1941. According to custom, the tower-door will be left open—trustfully and without prejudice to character—from eight to twelve. Bring this card for purpose of identification. In seven years we shall all be changed and inevitably for the worst. Do not fail to keep this appointment, dead or alive, but preferably if dead. You will be livelier company."

At the time of their last meeting, Ann only anticipated a temporary separation from her companions. Within forty-eight hours, however, she was on her way to Burma, with her parents. Her father was a brilliant engineer—as well as an intermittent drunkard—so that his wife had to work overtime to keep him anywhere near dry-level.

The quiet little woman was responsible—indirectly—for some fine constructional work. When she died, she kept the contract in the family by passing on her job to Ann.

During the weeks and months spent in exile, Ann never forgot the reunion. At the beginning of each fresh year, she drew a circle round the date in her pocket-diary. She used to stare at the enchanted numeral in a passion of longing. Richard's card of admission grew grimed and limp from being read in many a different scene and climate—high up in boulder-blocked mountains and besides sliding brown tropical rivers; above the snow-line and in the glare of the desert.

As the years passed, her first doubts began to sharpen into fear. War broke out and her father decided not to return to England. When he signed a contract with a water corporation in Florida, she gave up hope of keeping her appointment in the flesh.

"There's only one way," she told herself. "Get a monkey's paw, mail it to Richard and pass out. He'll attend to the rest."

Near the end of October, 1941, her father died suddenly. At the time it seemed too late for her to return as all the odds were against her...But on the evening of the fourteenth, she was in a hotel in the heart of London, waiting for the minutes to pass before she set out for the place of reunion.