Journey into Fear by Eric Ambler

Author:Eric Ambler
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141924649
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2009-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

When at last they went down to the saloon it was after ten. José and Mr Kuvetli were there playing cards.

José was playing with thin-lipped concentration and took no notice of them, but Mr Kuvetli looked up. His smile was sickly.

‘Madame,’ he said ruefully, ‘your husband plays cards very well.’

‘He has had a lot of practice.’

‘Ah, yes, I am sure.’ He played a card. José slapped another one on top of it triumphantly. Mr Kuvetli’s face fell.

‘It is my game,’ said José, and gathered up some money from the table. ‘You have lost eighty-four lire. If we had been playing for lire instead of centesimi I should have won eight thousand four hundred lire. That would be interesting. Shall we play another game?’

‘I think that I will go to bed now,’ said Mr Kuvetli hurriedly. ‘Good night, Messieurs-dame.’ He went.

José sucked his teeth as if the game had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. ‘Everyone goes to bed early on this filthy boat,’ he said. ‘It is very boring.’ He looked up at Graham. ‘Do you want to play?’

‘I’m sorry to say that I must go to bed, too.’

José shrugged. ‘Very well. Goodbye.’ He glanced at Josette and began to deal two hands. ‘I will play a game with you.’

She looked at Graham and smiled hopelessly. ‘If I do not he will be disagreeable. Good night, Monsieur.’

Graham smiled and said good night. He was not unrelieved.

He got to his cabin feeling a good deal more cheerful than he had felt when he had left it earlier in the evening.

How sensible she was! And how stupid he’d been! With men like Banat it was dangerous to be subtle. If a dog saw that you were nervous, he bit you. From now on he would carry the revolver. What was more, he would use it if Banat tried any funny business. You had to meet force with force.

He bent down to pull his suitcase from under the bunk. He was going to get the revolver out then and there.

Suddenly he stopped. For an instant his nostrils had caught the sweet cloying smell of attar of roses.

The smell had been faint, almost imperceptible, and he could not detect it again. For a moment he remained motionless, telling himself that he must have imagined it. Then panic seized him.

With shaking fingers he tore at the latches on the suitcase and flung back the lid.

The revolver was gone.

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