Read Online Journey Into Fear by Eric Ambler - Free Book Online Page B

my dear fellow,” he went on mildly, “have you a gun in your luggage?”
    “Good heavens, no!”
    “Then you had better take this.” He pulled a small revolver out of his overcoat pocket. “I put it in my pocket when I came out after you telephoned. It is fully loaded.”
    “But I shan’t need it.”
    “No, but it will make you feel better to have it.”
    “I doubt that. Still.…” He took the revolver and stared at it distastefully. “I’ve never fired one of these things, you know.”
    “It is easy. You release the safety catch, point it, pull the trigger and hope for the best.”
    “All the same …”
    “Put it in your pocket. You can give it to the French Customs officials at Modano.”
    Colonel Haki returned. “The coffee is being prepared. Now, Mr. Graham, we will decide how you are to amuse yourself until it is time for you to go.” He caught sight of the revolver in Graham’s hand. “Ah-ha! You are arming yourself!” He grinned. “A little melodrama is sometimes unavoidable, eh, Mr. Graham?”
    The decks were silent now and Graham could hear the sounds within the ship: people talking, doors slamming, quick businesslike footsteps in the alleyways. Therewas not long to wait now. Outside it was getting dark. He looked back upon a day which had seemed interminable, surprised that he could remember so little of it.
    Most of it he had spent in Colonel Haki’s office, his brain hovering uncertainly on the brink of sleep. He had smoked innumerable cigarettes and read some fortnight old French newspapers. There had been an article in one of them, he remembered, about the French mandate in the Cameroons. A doctor had been, reported favourably on the state of his wound, dressed it and gone. Kopeikin had brought him his suitcase and he had made a bloody attempt to shave with his left hand. In the absence of Colonel Haki they had shared a cool and soggy meal from the restaurant. The Colonel had returned at two to inform him that there were nine other passengers travelling on the boat, four of them women, that none of them had booked for the journey less than three days previously, and that they were all harmless.
    The gangway was down now and the last of the nine, a couple who sounded middle-aged and spoke French, had come aboard and were in the cabin next to his. Their voices penetrated the thin wooden bulkhead with dismaying ease. He could hear almost every sound they made. They had argued incessantly, in whispers at first as if they had been in church; but the novelty of their surroundings soon wore off and they spoke in ordinary tones.
    “The sheets are damp.”
    “No, it is simply that they are cold. In any case it does not matter.”
    “You think not? You think not?” She made a noisein her throat. “You may sleep as you wish, but do not complain to me about your kidneys.”
    “Cold sheets do not harm the kidneys,
chérie.”
    “We have paid for our tickets. We are entitled to comfort.”
    “If you never sleep in a worse place you will be lucky. This is not the
Normandie.”
    “That is evident.” The washing cabinet clicked open. “Ah! Look at this. Look! Do you expect me to wash in it?”
    “It is only necessary to run the water. A little dust.”
    “Dust! It is
dirty
. Filthy! It is for the steward to clean it. I will not touch it. Go and fetch him while I unpack the luggage. My dresses will be crushed. Where is the W.C.?”
    “At the end of the corridor.”
    “Then find the steward. There is no room for two while I unpack. We should have gone by train.”
    “Naturally. But it is I who must pay. It is I who must give the steward a tip.”
    “It is you who make too much noise. Quickly. Do you want to disturb everyone?”
    The man went out and the woman sighed loudly. Graham wondered whether they would talk all night. And one or both of them might snore. He would have to cough loudly once or twice so that they would realise how thin the partition was. But it was strangely comforting