[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
information."
"He's too adroit . . . too quick . . . He-"
"You sound as though you've been badly tricked recently, Miss
Wednesbury. . . Badly burned."
"I have. I have. By myself, mostly. I'm a fool. A hateful fool."
"Never a fool, Miss Wednesbury, and never hateful. I don't
know what's happened to shatter your opinion of yourself, but I hope
to restore it. So
you've been deceived, have you? By yourself, mostly? We all do
that. But you've been helped by someone. Who?"
"I'm betraying him."
"Then don't tell me."
"But I've got to find my mother and sisters . . . I can't trust him
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any more. . . I've got to do it myself." Robin took a deep breath. "I
want to tell you about a man named Gulliver Foyle."
Y'ang-Yeovil at once got down to business.
"Is it true he arrived by railroad?" Olivia Presteign asked. "In a
locomotive and observation car? What wonderful audacity."
"Yes, he's a remarkable young man," Presteign answered. He
stood, iron gray and iron hard, in the reception hall of his home,
alone with his daughter. He was guarding honor and life while he
waited for servants and staff to return from their panic-stricken
jaunte to safety. He chatted imperturbably with Olivia, never once
permitting her to realize their grave danger.
"Father, I'm exhausted."
"It's been a trying night, my dear. But please don't retire yet."
"Why not?"
Presteign refrained from telling her that she would be safer
with him. "I'm lonely, Olivia. We'll talk for a few minutes."
"I did a daring thing, Father. I watched the attack from the
garden."
"My dear! Alone?"
"No. With Fourmyle."
A heavy pounding began to shake the front door which
Presteign had closed.
"What's that?"
"Looters," Presteign answered calmly. "Don't be alarmed,
Olivia. They won't get in." He stepped to a table on which he had laid
out an assortment of weapons as neatly as a game of patience.
"There's no danger, my love." He tried to distract her. "You were
telling me about Fourmyle. . . ."
"Oh, yes. We watched together . . . describing the bombing to
each other."
"Unchaperoned? That wasn't discreet, Olivia."
"I know. I know. I behaved disgracefully. He seemed so big, so
sure of himself, that I gave him the Lady Hauteur treatment. You
remember Miss Post, my governess, who was so dignified and aloof
that I called her Lady Hauteur? I acted like Miss Post. He was furious,
father. That's why he came looking for me in the garden."
"And you permitted him to remain? I'm shocked, dear."
"I am too. I think I was half out of my mind with excitement.
What's he like, father? Tell me. What's he look like to you?"
"He is big. Tall, very dark, rather enigmatic. Like a Borgia. He
seems to alternate between assurance and savagery."
"Ah, he is savage, then? I could see it myself. He glows with
danger. Most people just shimmer . . . he looks like a lightning bolt.
It's terribly fascinating."
"My dear," Presteign remonstrated gently. "Unmarried females
are too modest to talk like that. It would displease me, my love, if you
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were to form a romantic attachment for a parvenu like Fourmyle of
Ceres."
The Presteign staff jaunted into the reception hall, cooks,
waitresses, footmen, pages, coachmen, valets, maids. All were shaken
and hang-dog after their flight from death.
"You have deserted your posts. It will be remembered,"
Presteign said coldly. "My safety and honor are again in your hands.
Guard them. Lady Olivia and I will retire."
He took his daughter's arm and led her up the stairs, savagely
protective of his ice-pure princess. "Blood and money," Presteign
murmured.
"What, father?"
"I was thinking of a family vice, Olivia. I was thanking the Deity
that you have not inherited it."
"What vice is that?"
"There's no need for you to know. It's one that Fourmyle
shares."
"Ah, he's wicked? I knew it. Like a Borgia, you said. A wicked
Borgia with black eyes and lines in his face. That must account for the
pattern."
"Pattern, my dear?"
"Yes. I can see a strange pattern over his face . . . not the usual
electricity of nerve and muscle. Something laid over that. It fascinated
me from the beginning."
"What sort of pattern do you mean?"
"Fantastic . . . Wonderfully evil. I can't describe it. Give me
something to write with. I'll show you."
They stopped before a six-hundred-year-old Chippendale
cabinet. Presteign took out a silver-mounted slab of crystal and
handed it to Olivia. She touched it with her fingertip; a black dot
appeared. She moved her finger and the dot elongated into a line.
With quick strokes she sketched the hideous swirls and blazons of a
devil mask.
Saul Dagenham left the darkened bedroom. A moment later it
was flooded with light as one wall illuminated. It seemed as though a
giant mirror reflected Jisbella's bedroom, but with one odd quirk.
Jisbella lay in the bed alone, but in the reflection Saul Dagenham sat
on the edge of the bed alone. The mirror was, in fact, a sheet of lead
glass separating identical rooms. Dagenham had just illuminated his.
"Love by the clock." Dagenham's voice came through a speaker.
"Disgusting."
"No, Saul. Never."
"Frustrating."
"Not that, either."
"But unhappy."
"No. You're greedy. Be content with what you've got."
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"It's more than I ever had. You're magnificent."
"You're extravagant. Now go to sleep, darling. We're skiing
tomorrow."
"No, there's been a change of plan. I've got to work."
"Oh Saul . . . you promised me. No more working and fretting
and running. Aren't you going to keep your promise?"
"I can't with a war on."
"To hell with the war. You sacrificed enough up at Tycho Sands.
They can't ask any more of you."
"I've got one job to finish."
"I'll help you finish it."
"No. You'd best keep out of this, Jisbella."
"You don't trust me."
"I don't want you hurt."
"Nothing can hurt us."
"Foyle can."
"W-What?"
"Fourmyle is Foyle. You know that. I know you know."
"But I never-"
"No, you never told me. You're magnificent. Keep faith with me
the same way, Jisbella."
"Then how did you find out?"
"Foyle slipped."
"How?"
"The name."
"Fourmyle of Ceres? He bought the Ceres company."
"But Geoffrey Fourmyle?"
"He invented it."
"He thinks he invented it. He remembered it. Geoffrey
Fourmyle is the name they use in the megalomania test down in
Combined Hospital in Mexico City. I used the Megal Mood on Foyle
when I tried to open him up. The name must have stayed buried in his
memory. He dredged it up and. thought it was original. That tipped
me."
"Poor Gully."
Dagenham smiled. "Yes, no matter how we defend ourselves
against the outside we're always licked by something from the inside. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
information."
"He's too adroit . . . too quick . . . He-"
"You sound as though you've been badly tricked recently, Miss
Wednesbury. . . Badly burned."
"I have. I have. By myself, mostly. I'm a fool. A hateful fool."
"Never a fool, Miss Wednesbury, and never hateful. I don't
know what's happened to shatter your opinion of yourself, but I hope
to restore it. So
you've been deceived, have you? By yourself, mostly? We all do
that. But you've been helped by someone. Who?"
"I'm betraying him."
"Then don't tell me."
"But I've got to find my mother and sisters . . . I can't trust him
a
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Click here to buy
Click here to buy
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any more. . . I've got to do it myself." Robin took a deep breath. "I
want to tell you about a man named Gulliver Foyle."
Y'ang-Yeovil at once got down to business.
"Is it true he arrived by railroad?" Olivia Presteign asked. "In a
locomotive and observation car? What wonderful audacity."
"Yes, he's a remarkable young man," Presteign answered. He
stood, iron gray and iron hard, in the reception hall of his home,
alone with his daughter. He was guarding honor and life while he
waited for servants and staff to return from their panic-stricken
jaunte to safety. He chatted imperturbably with Olivia, never once
permitting her to realize their grave danger.
"Father, I'm exhausted."
"It's been a trying night, my dear. But please don't retire yet."
"Why not?"
Presteign refrained from telling her that she would be safer
with him. "I'm lonely, Olivia. We'll talk for a few minutes."
"I did a daring thing, Father. I watched the attack from the
garden."
"My dear! Alone?"
"No. With Fourmyle."
A heavy pounding began to shake the front door which
Presteign had closed.
"What's that?"
"Looters," Presteign answered calmly. "Don't be alarmed,
Olivia. They won't get in." He stepped to a table on which he had laid
out an assortment of weapons as neatly as a game of patience.
"There's no danger, my love." He tried to distract her. "You were
telling me about Fourmyle. . . ."
"Oh, yes. We watched together . . . describing the bombing to
each other."
"Unchaperoned? That wasn't discreet, Olivia."
"I know. I know. I behaved disgracefully. He seemed so big, so
sure of himself, that I gave him the Lady Hauteur treatment. You
remember Miss Post, my governess, who was so dignified and aloof
that I called her Lady Hauteur? I acted like Miss Post. He was furious,
father. That's why he came looking for me in the garden."
"And you permitted him to remain? I'm shocked, dear."
"I am too. I think I was half out of my mind with excitement.
What's he like, father? Tell me. What's he look like to you?"
"He is big. Tall, very dark, rather enigmatic. Like a Borgia. He
seems to alternate between assurance and savagery."
"Ah, he is savage, then? I could see it myself. He glows with
danger. Most people just shimmer . . . he looks like a lightning bolt.
It's terribly fascinating."
"My dear," Presteign remonstrated gently. "Unmarried females
are too modest to talk like that. It would displease me, my love, if you
a
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T
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n
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B
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A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
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.
.
.
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A
Y
Y
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B
r r
were to form a romantic attachment for a parvenu like Fourmyle of
Ceres."
The Presteign staff jaunted into the reception hall, cooks,
waitresses, footmen, pages, coachmen, valets, maids. All were shaken
and hang-dog after their flight from death.
"You have deserted your posts. It will be remembered,"
Presteign said coldly. "My safety and honor are again in your hands.
Guard them. Lady Olivia and I will retire."
He took his daughter's arm and led her up the stairs, savagely
protective of his ice-pure princess. "Blood and money," Presteign
murmured.
"What, father?"
"I was thinking of a family vice, Olivia. I was thanking the Deity
that you have not inherited it."
"What vice is that?"
"There's no need for you to know. It's one that Fourmyle
shares."
"Ah, he's wicked? I knew it. Like a Borgia, you said. A wicked
Borgia with black eyes and lines in his face. That must account for the
pattern."
"Pattern, my dear?"
"Yes. I can see a strange pattern over his face . . . not the usual
electricity of nerve and muscle. Something laid over that. It fascinated
me from the beginning."
"What sort of pattern do you mean?"
"Fantastic . . . Wonderfully evil. I can't describe it. Give me
something to write with. I'll show you."
They stopped before a six-hundred-year-old Chippendale
cabinet. Presteign took out a silver-mounted slab of crystal and
handed it to Olivia. She touched it with her fingertip; a black dot
appeared. She moved her finger and the dot elongated into a line.
With quick strokes she sketched the hideous swirls and blazons of a
devil mask.
Saul Dagenham left the darkened bedroom. A moment later it
was flooded with light as one wall illuminated. It seemed as though a
giant mirror reflected Jisbella's bedroom, but with one odd quirk.
Jisbella lay in the bed alone, but in the reflection Saul Dagenham sat
on the edge of the bed alone. The mirror was, in fact, a sheet of lead
glass separating identical rooms. Dagenham had just illuminated his.
"Love by the clock." Dagenham's voice came through a speaker.
"Disgusting."
"No, Saul. Never."
"Frustrating."
"Not that, either."
"But unhappy."
"No. You're greedy. Be content with what you've got."
a
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T
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n
s
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F
f
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m
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Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
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B
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.
B
B
A
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Click here to buy
Click here to buy
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"It's more than I ever had. You're magnificent."
"You're extravagant. Now go to sleep, darling. We're skiing
tomorrow."
"No, there's been a change of plan. I've got to work."
"Oh Saul . . . you promised me. No more working and fretting
and running. Aren't you going to keep your promise?"
"I can't with a war on."
"To hell with the war. You sacrificed enough up at Tycho Sands.
They can't ask any more of you."
"I've got one job to finish."
"I'll help you finish it."
"No. You'd best keep out of this, Jisbella."
"You don't trust me."
"I don't want you hurt."
"Nothing can hurt us."
"Foyle can."
"W-What?"
"Fourmyle is Foyle. You know that. I know you know."
"But I never-"
"No, you never told me. You're magnificent. Keep faith with me
the same way, Jisbella."
"Then how did you find out?"
"Foyle slipped."
"How?"
"The name."
"Fourmyle of Ceres? He bought the Ceres company."
"But Geoffrey Fourmyle?"
"He invented it."
"He thinks he invented it. He remembered it. Geoffrey
Fourmyle is the name they use in the megalomania test down in
Combined Hospital in Mexico City. I used the Megal Mood on Foyle
when I tried to open him up. The name must have stayed buried in his
memory. He dredged it up and. thought it was original. That tipped
me."
"Poor Gully."
Dagenham smiled. "Yes, no matter how we defend ourselves
against the outside we're always licked by something from the inside. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]