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

As she regarded me I felt immensely foolish, peering up at her from the bottom of the steps. She said
nothing, but nodded
slightly at me.

"Do I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Fitzgibbon?" I went on. "Miss A. Fitzgibbon?"

"That is I," she said, in a pleasant, well modulated voice.

"Miss Fitzgibbon, I know you will think this an extraordinary request, but I have something here I think
will be of interest to you. I wondered if I might show it to you?"

For a moment she said nothing, but continued to stare down at me. Then she said: "What is it, Mr
Turnbull?"

I glanced along the corridor, fearing that at any moment another of the guests would appear.

I said: "Miss Fitzgibbon, may I come up to you?"

"No, you may not. I shall come down."

She had a large leather hand-bag, and she placed this on the tiny landing beside her door. Then, raising
her skirt slightly, she came slowly down the steps towards me.

When she stood before me in the corridor, I said: "I will not detain you for more than a few moments.
It was most fortunate that you should be staying in this hotel."

While I spoke I had crouched down on the floor, and was fumbling with the catch of my samples-case.
The lid came open, and I took out one of the Visibility Protection Masks. I stood up,' holding it in my
hand, and noticed that Miss Fitzgibbon was regarding me curiously. There was something about her
forthright gaze that was most disconcerting.

She said: "What do you have there, Mr Turnbull?"

"I call it the Visibility Protection Mask," I said. She made no reply, so I went on in some confusion:
"You see, it is suited for passengers as well as the driver, and can be removed at a moment's notice."

At this, the young lady stepped back from me, and seemed to be about to ascend the steps once more.

"Please wait!" I said.. "I am not explaining very well."

"Indeed you are not. What is it you have in your hand, and why should it be of such interest to me that
you accost me in an hotel corridor?"

Her expression was so cold and formal I did not know how to phrase my words. "Miss Fitzgibbon, I
understand that you are in the employ of Sir William Reynolds?"

She nodded 'to confirm this, so at once I stuttered out an account of how I felt sure he would be
interested in my Mask.

"But you have still not told me what it is."