"Milo Talon" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

hanging them from the saddle-horn.
"Don't fret," I told my horse. "I'll not be long."
With a whip or two of my hat to brush the worst of the dust from my clothes, I crossed
to the car and swung aboard. I paused an instant, then opened the door and stepped
into the observation room. All was satinwood and vermilion.
A table, a carafe of wine, and glasses. A black man wearing a white coat stepped
from the passage along the side. "Yes, sir?"
"I am Milo Talon."
"A moment, sir."
He vanished and I stood alone. There was a distant murmur of voices and the black
man returned. "This way, sir? If you please?"
The passage led past the doors of two staterooms to the salon which doubled as a
dining room. The room was comfortable but ornate with heavily tassled and fringed
draperies, velvet portieres, and thick wall-to-wall carpets.
Hat in hand I waited, catching a glimpse of myself in the narrow mirrors between
the windows. For a moment I was seeing what others might see: a lean, dark young
man in a wine
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colored shirt, black tie, black coat, and gray pin-striped trousers. Under the coat
a gun-belt and a Colt.
The office compartment into which I was shown was small but beautifully appointed,
and the man behind the desk fitted the picture. He was square-shouldered and square-jawed,
a man accustomed to command. He might have been sixty or more but seemed younger.
His mustache and hair were black with scarcely a hint of gray. He wore a black, beautifully
tailored suit. His manners, I felt, were as neatly tailored as his clothing. He gestured
to a chair, then opened a box of expensive cigars and offered it to me.
"No, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Sit down, won't you?"
"I'll stand, sir."
The jaws tightened a little; a short-tempered man, I thought, who does not like to
be thwarted in even the smallest thing.
"I am Jefferson Henry," he said.
"And I am Milo Talon. You wished to see me?"
"I wish to employ you."
"If I like the job."
"I will pay well. Very well."
"If I like the job."
The skin around his eyes seemed to tighten. "You're damned independent!"
"Yes, sir. Shall we get on with it, sir? What led you to me?"
"You were referred to me as a man who could do a difficult job, a close-mouthed man,
and who if required would charge Hell with a bucket of water."
"Well?"
He did not like me. It was in his mind, I think, to tell me to leave, to get out.
Something else was in his mind also because he did nothing of the kind.
"I want you to find someone for me. I want you to find a girl."
"You will have to find your own women." I started to put on my hat.
"The girl is my son's daughter. She has been missing for twelve years."
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