Читать книгу The Man Who Loved Lions - Ethel Lina White - Страница 9

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She fought the suggestion.

"No. I won't believe it. It's not John. He couldn't have changed so much in seven years...Besides, he doesn't know me. That proves he is a stranger."

She was grateful when the train ran into the open and the reduced lighting of the carriage made it impossible for her to see him clearly; but she was vaguely disturbed by the fact that—while the train grew emptier at every station—he did not leave his seat. When the terminus was reached, as she climbed the stairs, she could distinguish the blur of his light coat in front of her.

After she passed through the screens of the booking-hall, she came out in what appeared to be total blackness. With the exception of some stars, the night was clouded and unusually dark. As she waited, she saw moving lights, rather like the coals of a dying fire, and realised they were the dimmed lamps of motor traffic.

She felt both bewildered and nervous as she remembered that she had to cross the road to reach the bus stop. She was further worried by the recollection that the buses to Yellow-forge ran infrequently and that the Souls used to sprint to make their connection. Although she knew that the timetable was probably altered, she dared not linger outside the tube station.

When she tried to reach the other side, she found that she had lost her traffic-sense completely. After deciding that some feeble oncoming lights were still safely distant, she was about to dash in front of them, when she was arrested by the finding of brakes and a burst of profanity from the driver. At the same time, someone gripped her arm and dragged her back to the pavement. She thought instinctively of the man with the debased face, so it was a relief to hear a woman's voice.

"Don't you know better than to cross against the lights?" it asked.

"No," replied Ann frankly, "I don't."

When she explained the circumstances, her rescuer grew friendly.

"I'm from the Dominions myself," she said. "Australia."

"How lovely," said Ann enviously. "It's daylight there."

"And real sunshine. I'm in the A.T.S. I'll see you across Jordan. Look, there's the amber. The lights are going to change. Now."

Armed by the friendly Australian, Ann crossed the road safely and was steered to a darkened vehicle which was on the point of starting.

"Yellow-forge bus," said the uniformed girl, pushing Ann up the steps. "Good-bye. Happy landing."

As the bus moved on, Ann congratulated herself on her progress. The most difficult part of her journey was over as she would alight just outside the gates of Ganges. When the conductress came to collect her fare, she remembered the name of the stage—King William the Fourth—a small public-house.

After she received her ticket she was able to relax. Her watch told her that she had time in hand, even if she had some difficulty in locating the tower-door in the black-out. She could see nothing of the countryside, but there was the old sense of adventure—of being on a mystery cruise over some fabulous sea—as the darkness flowed past.

"Every yard, every second is taking me nearer to Stephen," she thought.

Conscious that she was growing sleepy from the strain of peering through the gummed muslin which protected the window, she looked down the dimly-lit vehicle.

To her dismay, the seat in front of her was occupied by the big fat man who was a caricature of a mature John. She stared at the roll of fat on his neck and his thick wavy hair while she tried to subdue her panic.

"It's not John. He's not going to Ganges. It's just coincidence he's on the Yellow-forge bus."

Unfortunately the shock of seeing him had awakened all the latent fears which the kindly Manchester man had sown in her mind. She began to wonder whether Ganges existed only within the pages of the telephone directory. After every blitz, houses remained listed, although they were reduced to rubble. Presently she could endure the suspense no longer and appealed to the conductress.

"I want to get out at Ganges. Will you please tell me when we come to it."

"Ganges?" repeated the girl doubtfully. "Do you mean the Zoo?"

A submerged memory returned to Ann. Although she had never seen Ganges by daylight, Richard had boasted about his uncle's collection of wild animals. It was a modest one, comprising varieties of deer, a small cat house, a monkey colony and a penguin pool, yet it was a source of heavy expenditure.

"Big Ben's spending a fortune on the blighters," grumbled Richard. "He's trying to reproduce their natural surroundings, to kid them they're not in captivity. It suits me as I've got my hoof well in. There's a tribe of relatives—pedigree and mongrels—but I'm the only blighter that's up in zoology. The idea is I'm Big Ben's heir, on condition I keep on the Zoo."

As she remembered the explanation, Ann accepted the existence of the Zoo as comforting proof of the survival of Ganges.

"So the Zoo's still there?" she remarked as a feeler.

She realised that she had introduced a controversial subject when a big shapeless woman who resembled Mrs. Noah, spoke sharply.

"Yes, still here, but it wouldn't be if it wasn't a rich man's hobby. It's a proper scandal and it didn't ought to be winked at."

"Hush, Ma," said a girl's voice. "It's no business of ours."

"Maybe not, but I speak for others. What about young Perce?"

An invisible man, sitting further down the bus, defended the Zoo.

"Sir Benjamin's all right. Hasn't he promised to give a Spitfire? He can spend his money as he likes. Young Perce had no business to climb railings. He was trespassing."

"The poor lad said he lost his way in the dark—and he had to deliver."

"He should have delivered his groceries by daylight. He was a darn fool to go wandering about the grounds in the black-out."

"You're telling me," agreed the matron. "You wouldn't catch me in there, not if the king asked me to meet him. You might stumble against anything in the dark."

The conductress interrupted the discussion by ringing her bell.

"Ganges," she announced. "Take care, miss."

As she got up Ann glanced apprehensively at the back of the big fair man, but to her great relief, he did not rise from his seat. Evidently Ganges meant nothing to him. He was still motionless when she looked after the bus, rolling again on its way.

"Thank goodness," she muttered. "That's the end of him."

Snapping on her torch, she saw before her the familiar entrance to Ganges, where stone pillars were crowned with roughly-carved elephants. On one post a notice was displayed—"WARNING. PRIVATE ZOO. KEEP TO PATH."

She felt a thrill when she pushed open one heavy wrought-iron gate, Stephen was only just around the bend. But even as she exulted, she started at a low noise. It was distant—yet it seemed to stir the air—a heavy sawing sound with a shattering quality—like a snarl imprisoned in a roll of thunder. For a moment she thought it was a train coughing in a tunnel, but as it was repeated she recognised it.

It was the roar of a lion.