beneath its cellotape binding, slit it open and took out a square, gilt-edged card. The writing was in that round, characterless hand much favoured by the upper-bracket girls’ schools along the Roedean and Cheltenham circuit.
Got your address from the Cunard people , it read. Hope this reaches you before you leave New York . A little gift for making me so happy . With my love ever . Priscilla .
“ Gosh,” burbled Boysie. “How jolly nice of her. Wonder what she’s sent?”
“ Who’s Priscilla?” said Chicory in a voice betraying the green-eyed monster which lurks in the hot recesses of every woman’s brain.
“ Oh, just a girl I met on the boat. Nobody important.” Boysie threw it off with an inexpert touch of nonchalance.
“ Hu!” She tossed her head and went over to study the view from the window as Boysie scrabbled with the outer wrapping.
“ You’re sure it’s OK?” asked Siedler, facing Boysie over the parcel.
“ This is all right. Girl on the boat. Hundred percenter. Jolly nice of her to have bothered.” Boysie preened like a birthday boy. The wrapping was off now, revealing an elegant long box, crested with the name of one of New York’s swankiest stores for men. He struggled to remove the lid—fingers all thumbs.
“ Here, let me help you with that.” Siedler pulled up on his side of the box, disclosing a first layer of tissue paper.
Boysie and Siedler must have both realised the dreadful mistake at the same moment—just as the lid came free. Joe Siedler’s hand was outstretched over the tissue. He stood no chance. The tissue stirred and crackled, then seemed to burst upwards like an opening flower. The long, thin body flashed out from its paper retreat and streaked with lightning speed and grace, fastening its dripping little mouth hard on to Sielder’s wrist. He gave a shriek of terror. Boysie took a half step back then stopped, fascinated, screwed to the floor, hands paralysed with horror. Chicory turned and began to scream, a forearm thrown across her face as though in defence. The revolting, deadly fangs of the eight-foot black mamba had closed tightly and were relentlessly pumping venom into Siedler’s bloodstream. For a moment he did not move, his eyes dilated, all senses fixed on the hot pulse of pain and awful crawling sensation. Then, with an almost listless downward jerk of the arm, Siedler shook the brute free and fell back on the bed, moaning and clutching his arm. The snake flicked its soft green-black body —sending the box flying—rolled on to the floor with a slithery thump, then seemed to leap forward, its length whipping out so that the tail almost touched Chicory’s feet by the window. The snake’s tiny eyes gleamed above the darting tongue. For a second it seemed to be making up its mind which way to turn; then, head slightly raised, it made an effortless rise on to the bed and began to glide like an arrow towards Boysie.
The mamba is one of the world’s most dangerous and aggressive snakes. It is also one of the fastest. In Africa they tell stories about good runners being overtaken by a mamba on the hunt. Boysie felt the hair on his neck stand erect. But the nervous, inbred instinct for self-preservation, and those few seconds which Siedler had taken to throw the snake from his wrist, gave Boysie just enough time to go through a standard reaction. The little pearl-handled pistol was out. He experienced that terrifying flip-roll of his stomach and saw the blurred head of the nauseating creature speeding over the bed coming straight for him.
His third shot caught the snake in the head—the other two went thudding into the bed, close to where Siedler lay moaning. A fourth bullet entered the middle of the reptile’s pliable body. It reared up, then dropped writhing and lashing in a death fury to the floor. Boysie, trembling with terror, hung on to the table. Chicory was screaming. At that moment the door crashed open and the two policemen slammed into the
Got your address from the Cunard people , it read. Hope this reaches you before you leave New York . A little gift for making me so happy . With my love ever . Priscilla .
“ Gosh,” burbled Boysie. “How jolly nice of her. Wonder what she’s sent?”
“ Who’s Priscilla?” said Chicory in a voice betraying the green-eyed monster which lurks in the hot recesses of every woman’s brain.
“ Oh, just a girl I met on the boat. Nobody important.” Boysie threw it off with an inexpert touch of nonchalance.
“ Hu!” She tossed her head and went over to study the view from the window as Boysie scrabbled with the outer wrapping.
“ You’re sure it’s OK?” asked Siedler, facing Boysie over the parcel.
“ This is all right. Girl on the boat. Hundred percenter. Jolly nice of her to have bothered.” Boysie preened like a birthday boy. The wrapping was off now, revealing an elegant long box, crested with the name of one of New York’s swankiest stores for men. He struggled to remove the lid—fingers all thumbs.
“ Here, let me help you with that.” Siedler pulled up on his side of the box, disclosing a first layer of tissue paper.
Boysie and Siedler must have both realised the dreadful mistake at the same moment—just as the lid came free. Joe Siedler’s hand was outstretched over the tissue. He stood no chance. The tissue stirred and crackled, then seemed to burst upwards like an opening flower. The long, thin body flashed out from its paper retreat and streaked with lightning speed and grace, fastening its dripping little mouth hard on to Sielder’s wrist. He gave a shriek of terror. Boysie took a half step back then stopped, fascinated, screwed to the floor, hands paralysed with horror. Chicory turned and began to scream, a forearm thrown across her face as though in defence. The revolting, deadly fangs of the eight-foot black mamba had closed tightly and were relentlessly pumping venom into Siedler’s bloodstream. For a moment he did not move, his eyes dilated, all senses fixed on the hot pulse of pain and awful crawling sensation. Then, with an almost listless downward jerk of the arm, Siedler shook the brute free and fell back on the bed, moaning and clutching his arm. The snake flicked its soft green-black body —sending the box flying—rolled on to the floor with a slithery thump, then seemed to leap forward, its length whipping out so that the tail almost touched Chicory’s feet by the window. The snake’s tiny eyes gleamed above the darting tongue. For a second it seemed to be making up its mind which way to turn; then, head slightly raised, it made an effortless rise on to the bed and began to glide like an arrow towards Boysie.
The mamba is one of the world’s most dangerous and aggressive snakes. It is also one of the fastest. In Africa they tell stories about good runners being overtaken by a mamba on the hunt. Boysie felt the hair on his neck stand erect. But the nervous, inbred instinct for self-preservation, and those few seconds which Siedler had taken to throw the snake from his wrist, gave Boysie just enough time to go through a standard reaction. The little pearl-handled pistol was out. He experienced that terrifying flip-roll of his stomach and saw the blurred head of the nauseating creature speeding over the bed coming straight for him.
His third shot caught the snake in the head—the other two went thudding into the bed, close to where Siedler lay moaning. A fourth bullet entered the middle of the reptile’s pliable body. It reared up, then dropped writhing and lashing in a death fury to the floor. Boysie, trembling with terror, hung on to the table. Chicory was screaming. At that moment the door crashed open and the two policemen slammed into the
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