[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
me to have a word, then?"
Alderscroft nodded. "I'd be obliged to the doctor," he responded,
much to Peter's pleasure. "Especially if they can tell us anything
interesting."
"Then I'll see to it immediately," Peter promised. "I'll be happy
to."
And if ever there was an understatement, that was surely a mammoth.
IN the end, Peter decided to approach Gupta privately, rather than
going through Maya first. If Maya's chief servant and oldest friend
did know something regarding Maya's safety, he might be more willing,
rather than less, to talk to Peter about it without Maya present. If
this ploy didn't work, he could always backtrack and go through Maya
anyway.
As a consequence, he shut up his shop during the early afternoon when
he knew that Maya would be at the Fleet clinic, and took a 'bus to
her home. There had been a dramatic change in the weather at long
last, with much lower temperatures and frequent rains. It was now a
normal, ordinary English summer in all respects but one. The heat
wave had broken, but now thanks to the rains and coolness, fogs
marched through the streets at night, and with the fog, came more of
the mysterious deaths. Simon Parkening was still missing, and
although Peter would have been perfectly pleased if he never appeared
again, his continued absence boded little good. And at any rate,
although the man was a bounder and a cad, even Peter wouldn't wish
him dead.
The narrow little street in which Maya lived, heavily overshadowed by
the buildings on either side with the dome of St. Paul's looming over
all in the distance, was remarkably quiet today. The only vehicle on
the pavement was a milk float returning empty to the dairy. There
were some small children, toddlers, playing together on a doorstep,
but other than that, no other people were about. There was traffic
and the sounds of people two or three streets away, but not here.
Peter rang Maya's bell and it seemed unnaturally loud in such
quietude; after a moment, he heard Gupta's footsteps within, and the
door opened.
Maya's chief servitor appeared within, his white tunic and bloused
trousers spotlessly correct, even though he must have been working in
the kitchen all morning. "The doctor will be-" Gupta began, and
stopped, a look of surprise on his weathered face, when he saw who it
was, for Peter should have known (as in fact, he did) that Maya was
not in this afternoon.
"I didn't come to see Doctor Maya, Gupta," Peter said, before Gupta
could gather his wits. "I came to see you. May I come in and speak
with you?"
"Of course, sahib," Gupta said politely, a mask of calculated
indifference dropping over his features. Peter wasn't worried. This
was only Gupta's public face. He thought it was likely that once
Gupta was in a place where he felt comfortable and in control, the
mask would come off again.
So when Gupta hesitated between going in the direction of Maya's
office and her conservatory, Peter smiled disarmingly, and said, "Why
don't we go to the kitchen?"
The mask flickered for a moment. Then Gupta bowed his head and turned
to lead the way to his sanctum.
With the break in the weather, the kitchen was now cozy rather than
stifling, and Gupta acknowledged Peter's appreciative sniff at the
scent of baking bread with a slight smile. The mask was beginning to
crack.
Gupta nodded at a stool, and Peter sat himself down beside the
kitchen table, scoured spotless, scored with the knife cuts and marks
of the preparation of many, many meals. Gupta poured two cups of tea
from the kettle he always had ready, and offered Peter the milk and
sugar, though he himself took neither.
Peter waited until Gupta took a second stool before he spoke; he put
his tea down on the table and looked straight into the old man's
eyes, and asked, "What enemy is it that has followed Maya from
India?"
Gupta started; the mask shattered. "What is it you know?" the old man
demanded harshly-and now Peter saw, thinly veiled, the warrior that
hid within the butler and servant-the bodyguard that Peter had always
suspected he truly was.
Peter took a sip of tea, as if he had not seen so much when the mask
came off. "I know that when she came here-and I discovered her-she
had done her best to create defenses against something. I know that
you were certain she needed those defenses. And I know-" he
hesitated, then plunged in further. "-I know that there is something
in this city now, that kills by night, crushing the breath from men.
These are all pukka sahibs, Englishmen, many officers of the Army who
once dwelt in your homeland and, I presume, did harm to your people
there. Or at least, whoever sent this thing to kill them, thought
that they had done harm."
Gupta's eyes widened at this last intelligence, and he sucked in his
breath in a hiss. "And it comes- when?" he asked urgently. "In the
hot night?"
Peter shook his head. "In the fog," he said. "Always with the fog.
The fog creeps in, and men die alone, suffocated, as if something had
crushed the life from them."
And that opened the floodgates.
Within the next hour, Peter got all of Maya's life history, as well
as that of her mother and as much of her father's that Gupta knew. He
also got the history of the woman he supposed must be regarded as
Maya's aunt-the devotee of Kali Durga, the sorceress Shivani, who had
sworn eternal enmity with her own sister when she married an
Englishman, and presumably was still the enemy of Surya's daughter. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
me to have a word, then?"
Alderscroft nodded. "I'd be obliged to the doctor," he responded,
much to Peter's pleasure. "Especially if they can tell us anything
interesting."
"Then I'll see to it immediately," Peter promised. "I'll be happy
to."
And if ever there was an understatement, that was surely a mammoth.
IN the end, Peter decided to approach Gupta privately, rather than
going through Maya first. If Maya's chief servant and oldest friend
did know something regarding Maya's safety, he might be more willing,
rather than less, to talk to Peter about it without Maya present. If
this ploy didn't work, he could always backtrack and go through Maya
anyway.
As a consequence, he shut up his shop during the early afternoon when
he knew that Maya would be at the Fleet clinic, and took a 'bus to
her home. There had been a dramatic change in the weather at long
last, with much lower temperatures and frequent rains. It was now a
normal, ordinary English summer in all respects but one. The heat
wave had broken, but now thanks to the rains and coolness, fogs
marched through the streets at night, and with the fog, came more of
the mysterious deaths. Simon Parkening was still missing, and
although Peter would have been perfectly pleased if he never appeared
again, his continued absence boded little good. And at any rate,
although the man was a bounder and a cad, even Peter wouldn't wish
him dead.
The narrow little street in which Maya lived, heavily overshadowed by
the buildings on either side with the dome of St. Paul's looming over
all in the distance, was remarkably quiet today. The only vehicle on
the pavement was a milk float returning empty to the dairy. There
were some small children, toddlers, playing together on a doorstep,
but other than that, no other people were about. There was traffic
and the sounds of people two or three streets away, but not here.
Peter rang Maya's bell and it seemed unnaturally loud in such
quietude; after a moment, he heard Gupta's footsteps within, and the
door opened.
Maya's chief servitor appeared within, his white tunic and bloused
trousers spotlessly correct, even though he must have been working in
the kitchen all morning. "The doctor will be-" Gupta began, and
stopped, a look of surprise on his weathered face, when he saw who it
was, for Peter should have known (as in fact, he did) that Maya was
not in this afternoon.
"I didn't come to see Doctor Maya, Gupta," Peter said, before Gupta
could gather his wits. "I came to see you. May I come in and speak
with you?"
"Of course, sahib," Gupta said politely, a mask of calculated
indifference dropping over his features. Peter wasn't worried. This
was only Gupta's public face. He thought it was likely that once
Gupta was in a place where he felt comfortable and in control, the
mask would come off again.
So when Gupta hesitated between going in the direction of Maya's
office and her conservatory, Peter smiled disarmingly, and said, "Why
don't we go to the kitchen?"
The mask flickered for a moment. Then Gupta bowed his head and turned
to lead the way to his sanctum.
With the break in the weather, the kitchen was now cozy rather than
stifling, and Gupta acknowledged Peter's appreciative sniff at the
scent of baking bread with a slight smile. The mask was beginning to
crack.
Gupta nodded at a stool, and Peter sat himself down beside the
kitchen table, scoured spotless, scored with the knife cuts and marks
of the preparation of many, many meals. Gupta poured two cups of tea
from the kettle he always had ready, and offered Peter the milk and
sugar, though he himself took neither.
Peter waited until Gupta took a second stool before he spoke; he put
his tea down on the table and looked straight into the old man's
eyes, and asked, "What enemy is it that has followed Maya from
India?"
Gupta started; the mask shattered. "What is it you know?" the old man
demanded harshly-and now Peter saw, thinly veiled, the warrior that
hid within the butler and servant-the bodyguard that Peter had always
suspected he truly was.
Peter took a sip of tea, as if he had not seen so much when the mask
came off. "I know that when she came here-and I discovered her-she
had done her best to create defenses against something. I know that
you were certain she needed those defenses. And I know-" he
hesitated, then plunged in further. "-I know that there is something
in this city now, that kills by night, crushing the breath from men.
These are all pukka sahibs, Englishmen, many officers of the Army who
once dwelt in your homeland and, I presume, did harm to your people
there. Or at least, whoever sent this thing to kill them, thought
that they had done harm."
Gupta's eyes widened at this last intelligence, and he sucked in his
breath in a hiss. "And it comes- when?" he asked urgently. "In the
hot night?"
Peter shook his head. "In the fog," he said. "Always with the fog.
The fog creeps in, and men die alone, suffocated, as if something had
crushed the life from them."
And that opened the floodgates.
Within the next hour, Peter got all of Maya's life history, as well
as that of her mother and as much of her father's that Gupta knew. He
also got the history of the woman he supposed must be regarded as
Maya's aunt-the devotee of Kali Durga, the sorceress Shivani, who had
sworn eternal enmity with her own sister when she married an
Englishman, and presumably was still the enemy of Surya's daughter. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]