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Authors: John Wyndham
Tags: Science-Fiction, Fantasy
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right in a day or two.'
'And in the meantime,' said Froud, 'all we can do is to await this probably disruptive influence with patience.'
A full forty eight hours passed before Doctor Grayson would allow his patient to be seen, and even then his permission was given reluctantly. So far, he told them, she had made a good recovery, but now the thought of her reception was beginning to worry her and retard progress. He considered it worth the risk of a slight setback to have matters out and let the girl know where she stood.
Dale immediately made for the trap door. It would. be easier, he thought, to conduct this first interview in the privacy of the tiny sick room. To his irritation he found that he did not arrive there alone.
'What do you want' he demanded, rounding on Froud. 'Me? Oh, I'm just tagging along,' the other told him placidly.
'Well, you can go back to the rest. I don't need you.'
'But that's where you're wrong. I am, as it were, the official record of this trip you can't start by censoring me the moment something interesting happens.'
'You'll know all about it later.'
'It wouldn't be the same. Must have the stowaway's first words and the captain's reactions. I'm afraid you've not got the right angle on this, Dale. Now, here is Romance with a capital R.'
He shook his head at Dale's grunting snort.
'Oh, yes it is in spite of your noises. It's axiomatic in my profession. The unexpected appearance of any girl is always Romance. And I am the representative of the world population two thousand million persons, or thereabouts, all avidly clamouring for Romance is it fair, is it decent, that you for a mere whim should deprive?'
'Oh, all right. I suppose you'd better come. Only for God's sake don't talk so damn' much. In fact, don't talk at all if you can manage that without bursting.'
He opened the door, and the two of them crowded into the little place.
The interval had worked a wonderful transformation in the stowaway's appearance. It was difficult to believe that the girl who lay on the slung couch and examined her visitors with calm appraisement could be identical with the figure of misery which had emerged from the locker. Both men were a little taken aback by the serious, unfrightened regard of her dark eyes. Neither had known quite what attitude to expect, but their surmises had not included this appearance of detached calm. Dale returned her look, momentarily at a loss. He saw an oval face, tanned to a soft brown and framed by darkly gleaming curls. The features were small, fine and regular; a firm mouth, with lips only a shade redder than nature had intended, and, below it, a chin suggesting resolution without stubbornness. Insensibly, when faced with the particular cause, he modified his attitude to the situation in general, and from its beginning the interview progressed along lines he had not intended.
'Well?' the girl asked evenly.
Dale pulled himself together. He began as he had meant to begin, but he felt that there was something wrong with the tone.
'I am Dale Curtance, and I should like an explanation of your presence here.
First, what is your name?'
'Joan,' she told him.
'And your surname?'
Her gaze did not waver.
'I don't think that matters at present.'
'It matters to me. I want to know who you are, and what you are here for.'
'In that case you will be disappointed that I do not choose to give you my other name. If you were to press me I could give you a false one. You have no means of checking. Shall we say "Smith"?'
'We will not say "Smith",' Dale retorted shortly. 'If you will not tell me your name, perhaps you will be good enough to explain why you joined this expedition unasked and unwanted. I suppose you do not understand that just your presence might easily have wrecked us at the very start.'
'I hoped to help.'
'Help? -- You?' His contemptuous tone caused her to flush, but she did not drop her eyes. At that moment Froud, watching her, felt some slight stirring of
'And in the meantime,' said Froud, 'all we can do is to await this probably disruptive influence with patience.'
A full forty eight hours passed before Doctor Grayson would allow his patient to be seen, and even then his permission was given reluctantly. So far, he told them, she had made a good recovery, but now the thought of her reception was beginning to worry her and retard progress. He considered it worth the risk of a slight setback to have matters out and let the girl know where she stood.
Dale immediately made for the trap door. It would. be easier, he thought, to conduct this first interview in the privacy of the tiny sick room. To his irritation he found that he did not arrive there alone.
'What do you want' he demanded, rounding on Froud. 'Me? Oh, I'm just tagging along,' the other told him placidly.
'Well, you can go back to the rest. I don't need you.'
'But that's where you're wrong. I am, as it were, the official record of this trip you can't start by censoring me the moment something interesting happens.'
'You'll know all about it later.'
'It wouldn't be the same. Must have the stowaway's first words and the captain's reactions. I'm afraid you've not got the right angle on this, Dale. Now, here is Romance with a capital R.'
He shook his head at Dale's grunting snort.
'Oh, yes it is in spite of your noises. It's axiomatic in my profession. The unexpected appearance of any girl is always Romance. And I am the representative of the world population two thousand million persons, or thereabouts, all avidly clamouring for Romance is it fair, is it decent, that you for a mere whim should deprive?'
'Oh, all right. I suppose you'd better come. Only for God's sake don't talk so damn' much. In fact, don't talk at all if you can manage that without bursting.'
He opened the door, and the two of them crowded into the little place.
The interval had worked a wonderful transformation in the stowaway's appearance. It was difficult to believe that the girl who lay on the slung couch and examined her visitors with calm appraisement could be identical with the figure of misery which had emerged from the locker. Both men were a little taken aback by the serious, unfrightened regard of her dark eyes. Neither had known quite what attitude to expect, but their surmises had not included this appearance of detached calm. Dale returned her look, momentarily at a loss. He saw an oval face, tanned to a soft brown and framed by darkly gleaming curls. The features were small, fine and regular; a firm mouth, with lips only a shade redder than nature had intended, and, below it, a chin suggesting resolution without stubbornness. Insensibly, when faced with the particular cause, he modified his attitude to the situation in general, and from its beginning the interview progressed along lines he had not intended.
'Well?' the girl asked evenly.
Dale pulled himself together. He began as he had meant to begin, but he felt that there was something wrong with the tone.
'I am Dale Curtance, and I should like an explanation of your presence here.
First, what is your name?'
'Joan,' she told him.
'And your surname?'
Her gaze did not waver.
'I don't think that matters at present.'
'It matters to me. I want to know who you are, and what you are here for.'
'In that case you will be disappointed that I do not choose to give you my other name. If you were to press me I could give you a false one. You have no means of checking. Shall we say "Smith"?'
'We will not say "Smith",' Dale retorted shortly. 'If you will not tell me your name, perhaps you will be good enough to explain why you joined this expedition unasked and unwanted. I suppose you do not understand that just your presence might easily have wrecked us at the very start.'
'I hoped to help.'
'Help? -- You?' His contemptuous tone caused her to flush, but she did not drop her eyes. At that moment Froud, watching her, felt some slight stirring of
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