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

"Surely you understand."

"Ah!" said Dykes. "The lady commercial!"

"Yes. I was wondering if I would owe you five shillings now, had I entered a bet with you."

"No such luck, old chap. The mysterious lady was closeted with Mrs Anson until I retired, and I saw
no sign of her this morning. She is a prize which Mrs Anson guards jealously."

"Do you suppose she is a personal friend?"

"I think not. She is registered as a guest."

"Of course," I said.

"You've changed your tune since last night. I thought you had no interest in the lady."

I said quickly: "I was just enquiring. You seemed bent on introducing yourself to her, and I wanted to
know how you had fared."

"Let me put it this way, Turnbull. I considered the circumstances, and judged that my talents were best
spent in London. I can see no way of making the lady's acquaintance without involving Mrs Anson. In
other words, dear chap, I am saving my energies for the weekend."

I smiled to myself as Dykes launched into an account of his latest conquest, because although I had
learned no more about the young lady I had at least established that I would not be in a misleading and
embarrassing competitive situation.

I listened to Dykes until a quarter to nine, then suggested we return to the hotel, explaining that I had a
letter to write. We parted company in the hall; Dykes walked into the commercial lounge, and I went
upstairs to my room. The door to the sitting-room was closed, and beyond it I could hear the sound of
Mrs Anson's voice.


Chapter Two
A CONVERSATION IN THE NIGHT

i


The staff of the Devonshire Arms were in the habit - presumably at Mrs Anson's instruction - of
sprinkling the shades of the oil-lamps with eau de cologne. This had the effect of infusing a cloying
perfume through the first floor of the hotel, one so persistent that even now I cannot smell cologne
without being reminded of the place.
 On this evening, though, I thought I detected a different fragrance as I climbed the stairs. It was drier,
less sickly, more redolent of herbs than Mrs Anson's perfumes.. but then I could smell it no more, and I
went on into my room and closed the door.

I lit the two oil-lamps in my room, then tidied my appearance in front of the mirror. I knew I had
alcohol on my breath, so I brushed my teeth, then sucked a peppermint lozenge. I shaved, combed my