Читать книгу The Man Who Loved Lions - Ethel Lina White - Страница 6

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As Ann lapsed into silence, the Manchester man's interest deepened into a vague sense of responsibility. The hotel was large, central, and gave excellent value. It was termed "cheap and popular," so it attracted a mixed collection of guests, among whom were some cheap and popular gentlemen. The Manchester man had noticed that while some of these had tried to get acquainted with Ann, she seemed unaware of them, as though she were preoccupied with an exclusive interest.

"Have you kept in touch with any of 'THE SULLIED SOULS'?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I've been abroad and lost touch. My father died at the end of October."

"How very sad," he said, shocked by so recent a loss.

"Not for him." Her voice was level. "It was one of those illnesses you're thankful to be out of...At the time, it seemed impossible to keep my date. Every one told me so. But I went on trying and haunting agencies and bribing people. And then, almost at the last moment, I got a cancellation in an air-liner. A palmist had told the man there would be a terrible accident."

"So you're not superstitious?"

"But I am. I was expecting the crash, all the way, but I just hoped I might be lucky."

"Used to flying, I suppose?"

"No, it was my first trip. It was awful. Whenever we dropped, I left my stomach behind me, up in the air...But it was worth it for it was quick. I made London with time in hand."

Again the Manchester man wondered what object had exacted such furious drive and fixity of purpose. Then he calculated the girl's age as twenty-three while he counted the number of the "Sullied Souls."

"You've mentioned five names," he said casually. "You make six. Wasn't there a seventh member of your club?"

"Yes. Stephen."

The radiance of her face told the Manchester man why she had flown to England.

"Stephen was wonderful," she declared. "He had everything. And he gave out all he had."

Then she looked at her watch, pressed out her cigarette and began to collect her belongings.

"Nearly time to dress," she said in a different voice. "I've been boring you but you asked for it. I thought talking about it would help me to realise it, but I can't. I can't believe that in a short time we shall all be together again, after seven years."

"Don't go," urged the Manchester man. "Wait for the postscript."

His kindly face had grown grave as he fumbled for words.

"Suppose—Are you sure the others will remember the date?"

"Of course." Her voice was confident. "They couldn't forget."

"Well, my dear, I'm John Blunt. And I'm a grandfather. Will you take some advice from an old-stager? Just ring up this Richard and make sure that it is a date. Remember, you're not used to the black-out."

Ann's face was thoughtful as she considered the advice.

"I can't ring up," she said. "It's unlikely that Richard would answer the phone and I can't leave a message. No one must know of our meetings. Secrecy was one of our vows."

"Hum. What's the address?"

"Ganges, Yellow-forge, Surrey. The house is right out in the country, at the end of the Tube. A local bus passes the gates."

While the Manchester man was jotting down the details, he asked another question.

"What time do you expect to be back?"

"Not much later than one-thirty. We used to catch the last train."

"Well, I warn you, if you don't show up, I shall make inquiries about you. I don't like to see a young girl running risks."

"What risk?"

"The risk of a big disappointment, to begin with. You've not seen these folks for years. They're bound to be changed and you may be disillusioned."

"I know...But it's my chance. I've got to get in touch with someone again. This is the only way."

Pushing back her chair, Ann rose from the table.

"Good-bye," she said. "Thank you for everything."

The Manchester man watched her progress through the lounge. She seemed to steer a way amid the crowd by instinct, for she looked ahead as though she were seeing one face only, smiling at her at the end of a long road.

He grunted and then slumped back in his chair as he began to revise his engagement list. Presently he was joined by his wife—a massive woman with a pleasant face. She had accompanied him to London for the trip and also to keep an eye upon him.

According to custom, he told her dutifully about his promise to Ann. His story got the usual reception, while she hid her pride in his unselfish character.

"Just like you, Will. Even more daft than usual. I've no patience with headstrong girls who run into scrapes and expect other people to get them out. You've a heavy day to-morrow and you need the sleep you can get. You might consider you owe your loyalty to me and the girls. Besides what you propose is utterly useless."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because if she runs into danger, by the time you could take any sort of action, it would be too late to save her."