Mysterious Aviator by Nevil Shute

Author:Nevil Shute [Shute, Nevil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-47420-9
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2010-07-12T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

LENDEN DIDN’T RETURN till half an hour after I come in. He had been out all day with the dog; from what he said I gathered that he must have been pretty well as far as South Harting along the down, because he described passing a big white house in the middle of the hills. I put that down as Beacon House, where Sir John Worth lives and breeds his bloodhounds. He must have been twenty miles. Kitter’s dog returned in a state of prostration—and a good job too. It doesn’t get enough exercise, that beast.

I let him have his dinner before I started. There’s no sense in expecting a hungry man to listen to reason, and Lenden was very healthily weary. He spoke very little during the meal, but he mentioned Keumer once, and it was clear that he was as far from a decision on that affair as he had been in the morning. After dinner he left the table and flung himself down in a long chair before the fire, and with his first words he gave me the opportunity that I wanted.

“D’you hear anything more about Russia in Town?” he inquired.

I shook my head. “Not a word. I left soon after lunch. But I saw your pal Robertson this morning.”

He took the cigarette from his lips and stared at me. “Sam Robertson? Where did you see him?”

“In Knightsbridge,” I replied. “At his club.”

“What d’you go there for?”

I crossed the room, switched on the reading-lamp, and sat down on the music-stool before the piano. “Bit of officiousness, I suppose,” I said quietly. “Can’t think of any other reason.”

He didn’t speak.

“You may as well know what I think about this thing,” I said. “For myself, I don’t care a damn what you do. It doesn’t affect me. You can walk out of this place when you like—to-night or next month—and I don’t suppose we’ll meet again for some time. I’ll get rid of that aeroplane for you. But when you do go, I honestly think you’ll be a ruddy fool if you go back to Russia. There’s going to be bad trouble there, and there’ll be hell to pay if you’re caught out there then. You can see that for yourself.”

He brushed that aside. “I know all that. But what did you want to go and see Robertson for? Was it about me?”

“I went to Robertson because I knew damn well you wouldn’t go yourself,” I said. “Not my business, I know. But that’s what I did.”

He thought about it for a minute. “What happened?” he inquired.

I filled a pipe, and lit it before replying. “He ended by offering you a job on his survey,” I said at length, and glanced towards him through the smoke. “At four hundred and fifty—to start with. Plus a share of the profits.”

He stared at me incredulously. “Did he offer that—on his own?”

“He did.”

“Without wanting any capital put into the business?”

“Not a bean.”

He laughed. “He must have changed his mind since last I saw him, then.

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