Novel.The Flesh of The Orchid.1948 by Chase James Hadley

Author:Chase, James Hadley [Chase, James Hadley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: papachanjo
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER V

EXCITEMENT hung over Point Breese like a fine layer of dust. The Sullivans sensed it as they drove down the main street. It was not that there was anything to see. Point Breese was hidden under a blanket of darkness, and except for the saloon bars and the all-night cafe and the drug store, no lights showed. But the excitement was there: you could feel it seeping out of the dark houses; hanging in the cool night an.

The Sullivans wondered about it, but they didn’t say anything to each other: not quite sure that they weren’t imagining things.

They were very tired after the drive from the old plantation house. They had had no sleep worth speaking about for twenty-four hours, and although they didn’t need much sleep, they were now ready for a rest.

Frank, who was driving the Buick, swung the car off the main street, round to the jail and the hotel. He slowed to a crawl when he saw the little group of men standing outside the jail.

Max’s hand automatically went to his shoulder holster and his eyes grew watchful, but the men just glanced their way, tinned their heads again to stare up at the jail.

“What’s up?” Frank asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Nothing we should worry about,” Max returned. “There must be a garage round the back. Get the car out of sight.”

They found the hotel garage, left the car and retraced their steps to the front entrance. They kept in the shadows, but the group of men were too intent watching the jail to notice them.

The clerk behind the reception desk was a pale little man with a moustache like a soot-mark on his upper hp. He gave Max a pen and pushed the register towards him.

“A double room,” he asked, “or two singles?”

“Double,” Max said, signed the book.

Frank took the pen, read the fictious name Max had scrawled in the register, copied it.

“Send up coffee and hot rolls at half past eight tomorrow morning,” Max said, “and the newspapers.”

The clerk made a note on a sheet of paper, touched a bell.

The bell-hop was a scraggy man with bags under his eyes. The pill-box hat he wore made him look as if he was going to a fancy dress party. He took the Sullivans’ pig-skin bag, led the way to a small, hand-propelled elevator.

As they were being drawn creakily upwards, a muffled hammering sound jarred the silence of the hotel.

“Fixing the scaffold,” the bell-hop said, and his fishy eyes sparkled with sudden excitement.

“What scaffold?” Frank asked, although he knew.

“For the hanging,” the bell-hop returned, brought the elevator to rest, pushing back the grill. “Ain’t you heard?”

The Sullivans looked at him watchfully, moved out of the elevator into the corridor.

A girl in a silk wrap and sky-blue pyjamas, carrying a sponge bag and towel, passed them. In her lips, painted into a savage cupid bow, dangled a cigarette. She looked at the Sullivans and her eyes smiled.

Frank didn’t even notice her.

“What hanging?” he asked the bell-hop.

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