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

iii

“MissFitzgibbon!” It was Mrs Anson’s voice.

I stared desperately at my new friend.

“What shall we do?” I whispered. “If I am found here at this hour. …”

“Keep quiet … leave it to me.”

From outside, again: “Miss Fitzgibbon!”

She moved quickly to the far side of the room, and stood beside the bed.

“What is it, Mrs Anson?” she called, in a faint, tired-seeming voice.

There was a short silence. Then: “Has the maid brought a hot water bottle to your room?”

“Yes, thank you. I am already abed.”

“With the lamps still alight, Miss Fitzgibbon?”

The young lady pointed desperately at the door,and waved her hands at me. I understood immediately, and moved quickly to one side so that I could not be seen through the keyhole.

“I am doing a little reading, Mrs Anson. Good night to you.”

There was another silence from beyond the door, during which I felt I must surely shout aloud to break the tension!

“I thought I heard the sound of a man’s voice,” said Mrs Anson.

“I am quite alone,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. I saw that her face was flushing red, although whether it was from embarrassment or anger I could not tell.

“I don’t think I am mistaken.”

“Please wait a moment,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

She crept over to me, and raised her mouth until it was beside my ear.

“I shall have to let her in,” she whispered. “I know what to do. Please turn your back.”

“what?” I said in astonishment.

“Turn your back … please!”

I stared at her in anguish for a moment longer, then did as she said. I heard her move away from me towards the wardrobe, and then there came the sound of her pulling at the clasps and buttons of her gown. I closed my eyes firmly, covering them with my hand. The enormity of my situation was without parallel.

I heard the wardrobe door close, and then felt the touch of a hand on my arm. I looked: Miss Fitzgibbon was standing beside me, a long striped flannel dressing-gown covering her. She had taken the pins from her hair so that it fell loosely about her face.

“Take these,” she whispered, thrusting the two brandy-glasses into my hands. “Wait inside the bath-room.”

“Miss Fitzgibbon, I really must insist!” said Mrs Anson.

I stumbled towards the bath-room door. As I did so I glanced back and saw Miss Fitzgibbon throwing back the covers of the bed and crumpling the linen and bolster. She took my samples-case, and thrust it under the chase longue. I went inside the bath-room and closed the door. In the dark I leaned back against the door frame, and felt my hands trembling.

The outer door was opened.

“Mrs Anson, what is it you want?”

I heard Mrs Anson march into the room… I could imagine her glaring suspiciously about, and I waited for the moment of her irruption into the bath-room.

“Miss Fitzgibbon, it is very late. Why are you not yet asleep?”

“I am doing some reading. Had you not knocked when you did, I dare say I should be asleep at this moment.”

“I distinctly heard a male voice.”

“But you can see… I am alone. Could it not have been from the next room?”

“It came from in here.”

“Were you listening at the door?”

“Of course not! I was passing down the lower corridor on the way to my own room.”

“Then you could easily have been mistaken. I too have heard voices.”

The tone of Mrs Anson’s words changed suddenly. “My dear Amelia, I am concerned only for your well-being. You do not know these commercial men as well as I. You are young and innocent, and I am responsible for your safety.”

“I’m twenty-two years of age, Mrs Anson and I am responsible for my safety. Now please leave me, as I wish to go to sleep.”

Again, Mrs Anson’s tone changed. “How do I know you’re not deceiving me?”

“Look around, Mrs Anson!” Miss Fitzgibbon came to the bath-room door, and threw it open. It banged against my shoulder, but served to conceal me behind it. “Look everywhere! Would you care to inspect my wardrobe? Or would you prefer to peer under my bed?”

“There is no need for unpleasantness, Miss Fitzgibbon. I am quite prepared to take your word.”

“Then kindly leave me in peace, as I have had a long day at work, and I wish to go to sleep.”

There was a short silence. Then Mrs Anson said: “Very well, Amelia. Good night to you.”

“Good night, Mrs Anson.”

I heard the woman walk from the room, and down the stairs outside. There was a much longer silence, and then I heard the outer door close.

Miss Fitzgibbon came to the bath-room, and leaned weakly against the door-post.

“She’s gone,” she said.