"Christopher Priest - The Space Machine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Priest Christopher)

hair and moustache, and put on a clean shirt.

When this was done I placed an easy chair beside the door, and moved a table towards it. On this I
placed one of the lamps, and blew out the other. As an afterthought I took one of Mrs Anson's
bath-towels, and folded it over the arm of the chair. Then I was ready.

I sat down, and opened a novel.

More than an hour passed, during which although I sat with the book on my knee, I read not one
word. I could hear the gentle murmur of conversation drifting up from the downstairs rooms, but all else
was still.

At last I heard a light tread on the stairs, and at once I was ready. I put aside the book, and draped the
bath-towel over my arm. I waited until the footsteps had passed my door, and then I let myself out.

In the dim light of the corridor I saw a female figure, and as she heard me she turned. It was a
chambermaid, carrying a hot water bottle in a dark-red cover.

"Good evening, sir," she said, making a small sullen curtsey in my direction, then continued on her way.

I went across the corridor into the bath-room, closed the door, counted to one hundred slowly, and
then returned to my room.

Once more I waited, this time in considerably greater agitation than before.

Within a few minutes I heard another tread on the stairs, this time rather heavier. Again I waited until
the footsteps had passed before emerging. It was Hughes, on his way to his room. We nodded to each
other as I opened the door of the bath-room.

When I returned to my own room I was growing angry with myself for having to resort to such
elaborate preparations and minor deceptions. But I was determined to go through with this in the way I
had planned.

On the third occasion I heard footsteps I recognized Dykes's tread, as he bounded up taking two steps
at a time.. I was thankful not to have to go through the charade with the bath-towel.

Another half-hour passed and I was beginning to despair, wondering if I had miscalculated. After all,
Miss Fitzgibbon might well be staying in Mrs Anson's private quarters; I had no reason to suppose that
she would have been allocated a room on this floor. At length, though, I was in luck. I heard a soft tread
on the staircase, and this time when I looked down the corridor I saw the retreating back of a tall young
woman. I tossed the towel back into my room, snatched up my samples-case, closed the door quietly
and followed her.

If she was aware that I was behind her, she showed no sign of it. She walked to the very end of the
corridor, to where a small staircase led upwards. She turned, and climbed the steps.

I hastened to the end of the corridor, and as I reached the bottom of the steps I saw that she was on
the point of inserting a key into the door. She looked down at me.
 "Excuse me, ma'am," I said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Turnbull, Edward Turnbull."