It had been Victoria’s intention to go to bed and to sleep and to leave allproblems until the morning, but having already slept most of the after-noon, she found herself devastatingly1 wide awake.
In the end she switched on the light, finished a magazine story she hadbeen reading in the plane, darned her stockings, tried on her new nylons,wrote out several different advertisements requiring employment (shecould ask tomorrow where these should be inserted), wrote three or fourtentative letters to Mrs. Hamilton Clipp, each setting out a different andmore ingenious set of unforeseen circumstances which had resulted inher being “stranded” in Baghdad, sketched2 out one or two telegrams ap-pealing for help to her sole surviving relative, a very old, crusty, and un-pleasant gentleman in the North of England who had never helped any-body in his life; tried out a new style of hairdo, and finally with a suddenyawn decided3 that at last she really was desperately4 sleepy and ready forbed and repose5.
It was at this moment that without any warning her bedroom doorswung open, a man slipped in, turned the key in the lock behind him andsaid to her urgently:
“For God’s sake hide me somewhere—quickly….”
Victoria’s reactions were never slow. In a twinkling of an eye she hadnoted the laboured breathing, the fading voice, the way the man held anold red knitted scarf bunched on his breast with a desperate clutchinghand. And she rose immediately in response to the adventure.
The room did not lend itself to many hiding places. There was the ward-robe, a chest of drawers, a table and the rather pretentious6 dressing7 table.
The bed was a large one—almost a double bed and memories of childishhide-and-seek made Victoria’s reaction prompt.
“Quick,” she said. She swept off pillows, and raised sheet and blanket.
The man lay across the top of the bed. Victoria pulled sheet and blanketover him, dumped the pillows on top and sat down herself on the side ofthe bed.
Almost immediately there came a low insistent8 knocking on the door.
Victoria called out, “Who is it?” in a faint, alarmed voice.
“Please,” said a man’s voice outside. “Open, please. It is the police.”
Victoria crossed the room, pulling her dressing gown round her. As shedid so, she noticed the man’s red knitted scarf was lying on the floor andshe caught it up and swept it into a drawer, then she turned the key andopened the door of her room a small way, peering out with an expressionof alarm.
A dark-haired young man in a mauve pinstripe suit was standing9 out-side and behind him was a man in police officer’s uniform.
“What’s the matter?” Victoria asked, letting a quaver creep into hervoice.
The young man smiled brilliantly and spoke10 in very passable English.
“I am so sorry, miss, to disturb you at this hour,” he said, “but we have acriminal escaped. He has run into this hotel. We must look in every room.
He is a very dangerous man.”
“Oh dear!” Victoria fell back, opening the door wide. “Do come in,please, and look. How very frightening. Look in the bathroom, please. Oh!
and the wardrobe—and, I wonder, would you mind looking under the bed?
He might have been there all evening.”
The search was very rapid.
“No, he is not here.”
“You’re sure he’s not under the bed? No, how silly of me. He couldn’t bein here at all. I locked the door when I went to bed.”
“Thank you, miss, and good evening.”
The young man bowed and withdrew with his uniformed assistant.
Victoria, following him to the door, said:
“I’d better lock it again, hadn’t I? To be safe.”
“Yes, that will be best, certainly. Thank you.”
Victoria relocked the door and stood by it for some few minutes. Sheheard the police officers knock in the same way on the door the other sideof the passage, heard the door open, an exchange of remarks and the in-dignant hoarse11 voice of Mrs. Cardew Trench12, and then the door closing. Itreopened a few minutes later, the sound of their footsteps moved downthe passage. The next knock came from much farther away.
Victoria turned and walked across the room to the bed. It was borne inupon her that she had probably been excessively foolish. Led away by theromantic spirit, and by the sound of her own language, she had impuls-ively lent aid to what was probably an extremely dangerous criminal. Adisposition to be on the side of the hunted against the hunter sometimesbrings unpleasant consequences. Oh well, thought Victoria, I’m in for itnow, anyway!
Standing beside the bed she said curtly13:
“Get up.”
There was no movement, and Victoria said sharply, though without rais-ing her voice:
“They’ve gone. You can get up now.”
But still there was no sign of movement from under the slightly raisedhump of pillows. Impatiently, Victoria threw them all off.
The young man lay just as she had left him. But now his face was aqueer greyish colour and his eyes were closed.
Then, with a sharp catch in her breath, Victoria noticed something else—a bright red stain seeping14 through onto the blanket.
“Oh, no,” said Victoria, almost as though pleading with someone. “Oh, no—no!”
And as though in recognition of that plea the wounded man opened hiseyes. He stared at her, stared as though from very far away at some objecthe was not quite certain of seeing.
His lips parted—the sound was so faint that Victoria scarcely heard.
She bent15 down.
“What?”
She heard this time. With difficulty, great difficulty, the young man saidtwo words. Whether she heard them correctly or not Victoria did notknow. They seemed to her quite nonsensical and without meaning. Whathe said was, “Lucifer—Basrah.…”
The eyelids16 drooped17 and flickered18 over the wide anxious eyes. He saidone word more—a name. Then his head jerked back a little and he laystill.
Victoria stood quite still, her heart beating violently. She was filled nowwith an intense pity and anger. What to do next she had no idea. She mustcall someone—get someone to come. She was alone here with a dead manand sooner or later the police would want an explanation.
Whilst her brain worked rapidly on the situation, a small sound madeher turn her head. The key had fallen out of her bedroom door, and whilstshe stared at it, she heard the sound of the lock turning. The door openedand Mr. Dakin came in, carefully closing the door behind him.
He walked across to her saying quietly:
“Nice work, my dear. You think quickly. How is he?”
With a catch in her voice Victoria said:
“I think he’s—he’s dead.”
She saw the other’s face alter, caught just a flash of intense anger, thenhis face was just as she had seen it the day before—only now it seemed toher that the indecision and flabbiness of the man had vanished, givingplace to something quite different.
He bent down—and gently loosened the ragged19 tunic20.
“Very neatly21 stabbed through the heart,” said Dakin as he straightenedup. “He was a brave lad—and a clever one.”
Victoria found her voice.
“The police came. They said he was a criminal. Was he a criminal?”
“No. He wasn’t a criminal.”
“Were they—were they the police?”
“I don’t know,” said Dakin. “They may have been. It’s all the same.”
Then he asked her:
“Did he say anything—before he died?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“He said Lucifer—and then Basrah. And then after a pause he said aname—a French name it sounded like—but I mayn’t have got it right.”
“What did it sound like to you?”
“I think it was Lefarge.”
“Lefarge,” said Dakin thoughtfully.
“What does it all mean?” said Victoria, and added with some dismay:
“And what am I to do?”
“We must get you out of it as far as we can,” said Dakin. “As for what it’sall about, I’ll come back and talk to you later. The first thing to do is to gethold of Marcus. It’s his hotel and Marcus has a great deal of sense, thoughone doesn’t always realize it in talking to him. I’ll get hold of him. Hewon’t have gone to bed. It’s only half past one. He seldom goes to bed be-fore two o’clock. Just attend to your appearance before I bring him in.
Marcus is very susceptible22 to beauty in distress23.”
He left the room. As though in a dream she moved over to the dressingtable, combed back her hair, made up her face to a becoming pallor andcollapsed on to a chair as she heard footsteps approaching. Dakin came inwithout knocking. Behind him came the bulk of Marcus Tio.
This time Marcus was serious. There was not the usual smile on his face.
“Now, Marcus,” said Mr. Dakin, “you must do what you can about this.
It’s been a terrible shock to this poor girl. The fellow burst in, collapsed—she’s got a very kind heart and she hid him from the police. And now he’sdead. She oughtn’t to have done it, perhaps, but girls are softhearted.”
“Of course she did not like the police,” said Marcus. “Nobody likes thepolice. I do not like the police. But I have to stand well with them becauseof my hotel. You want me to square them with money?”
“We just want to get the body away quietly.”
“That is very nice, my dear. And I, too, I do not want a body in my hotel.
But it is, as you say, not so easy to do?”
“I think it could be managed,” said Dakin. “You’ve got a doctor in yourfamily, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Paul, my sister’s husband, is a doctor. He is a very nice boy. But Ido not want him to get into trouble.”
“He won’t,” said Dakin. “Listen, Marcus. We move the body from MissJones’ room across into my room. That lets her out of it. Then I use yourtelephone. In ten minutes’ time a young man reels into the hotel from thestreet. He is very drunk, he clutches at his side. He demands me at the topof his voice. He staggers into my room and collapses24. I come out and callyou and ask for a doctor. You produce your brother-in-law. He sends foran ambulance and he goes in it with this drunken friend of mine. Beforethey get to the hospital my friend is dead. He has been stabbed. That is allright for you. He has been stabbed in the street before coming into yourhotel.”
“My brother-in-law takes away the body—and the young man who playsthe part of the drunkard, he goes away quietly in the morning perhaps?”
“That’s the idea.”
“And there is no body found in my hotel? And Miss Jones she does notget any worry or annoyance25? I think, my dear, that that is all a very goodidea.”
“Good, then if you’ll make sure the coast is clear, I’ll get the body acrossto my room. Those servants of yours potter round the corridors half thenight. Go along to your room and raise a shindy. Get them all running tofetch you things.”
Marcus nodded and left the room.
“You’re a strong girl,” said Dakin. “Can you manage to help me to carryhim across the corridor to my room?”
Victoria nodded. Between them they lifted the limp body, carried itacross the deserted26 corridor (in the distance Marcus’ voice could be heardupraised in furious anger) and laid it on Dakin’s bed.
Dakin said:
“Got a pair of scissors? Then cut off the top of your under-blanket whereit’s stained. I don’t think the stain’s gone through to the mattress27. The tu-nic soaked up most of it. I’ll come along to you in about an hour. Here,wait a minute, take a pull from this flask28 of mine.”
Victoria obeyed.
“Good girl,” said Dakin. “Now go back to your room. Turn out the light.
As I said, I’ll be along in about an hour.”
“And you’ll tell me what it all means?”
He gave her a long rather peculiar29 stare but did not answer her ques-tion.
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1
devastatingly
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| adv. 破坏性地，毁灭性地，极其 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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collapses
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| 折叠( collapse的第三人称单数 )； 倒塌； 崩溃； （尤指工作劳累后）坐下 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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