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

"You know, Turnbull, I fancy I shall introduce myself to Miss Fitzgibbon before the evening is out."

"But what will you say? Surely you would require an introduction?"

"That will be simple to arrange. I shall merely go to the door of Mrs Anson's sitting-room, knock
boldly, and invite Miss Fitzgibbon to take a short stroll with me before turning in.

"I-" My sentence was cut short, for I had suddenly realized that Dykes could not be in earnest. He
knew the proprietress of this hotel as well as I, and we both understood what kind of reception such a
move could expect. Miss Fitzgibbon might well be an Emancipationist, but Mrs Anson was still firmly
rooted in the 1860s.

"Why should I describe my strategy to you?" Dykes said. "We shall both be here until the weekend; I
shall tell you then how I have fared."

I said: "Could you not somehow discover which firm she represents? Then you could contrive a chance
meeting with her during the day."

Dykes smiled at me mysteriously.

"Maybe you and I think alike, Turnbull. I have already obtained that information. Would you care to
place a small wager with me, the winner being the man who first speaks to the lady?"

I felt my face reddening. "I do not bet, Dykes. Anyway, it would be foolish for me to compete with
you, since you have an advantage."

"Then I shall tell you what I know. She is not a commercial at all, but an amanuensis. She works for no
firm, but is in the personal employ of an inventor. Or so my informant tells me."

"An inventor?" I said, disbelieving. "You cannot be serious!"

"That is what I have been told," Dykes said. "Sir William Reynolds by name, and a man of great
eminence. I know nothing of that, nor care, for my interests lie with his assistant."

I sat with my writing-tablet on my knees, quite taken aback by this unexpected information. In truth I
had no interest in Dykes's nefarious designs, for I tried at all times to conduct myself with propriety, but
the name of Sir William Reynolds was a different matter.

I stared at Dykes thoughtfully while he finished his cigarette, then stood up.

"I think I shall retire," I said.

"But it's still early. Let us have a glass of wine together, on my account." He reached over and pressed
the electrical bell-push. "I want to see you place that wager with me."

"Thank you but no, Dykes. I have this letter to finish, if you will excuse me. Perhaps tomorrow
evening...?"

I nodded to him, then worked my way towards the door. As I reached the corridor outside, Mrs