Master of Souls by Mark Hansom

Author:Mark Hansom [Hansom, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ramble House
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIV

THE EGYPTIAN AGAIN

(Verbatim report of a statement made by the hotel

Night Porter to the Compiler of these papers.)

I happened to be on duty for a spell early that night — round about eight o’clock, say — on account of one of the day porters who wanted time off to go to a dinner with his old regiment, though that doesn’t matter, only it meant that I was there when those two gentlemen arrived.

They were gentlemen all right, though the young one — a man getting on for thirty; by name Darnley, as you know — he looked somewhat strange — a bit the worse for wear, if you understand what I mean. He wasn’t drunk or anything like that. If he had been I shouldn’t have taken so much notice of him. We don’t, you know, if they are peaceable. No, it wasn’t that he was drunk, though he looked as if he had been sleeping in his clothes for a week and hadn’t had time to give himself awash and brush-up. But he was a gentleman, for all that, as I could see, knowing gentlemen at a glance, as you might say.

The other one — Morzetti, who looked like a foreigner — was the very opposite to Mr. Darnley. In appearance, that is. He was perfectly turned out — a bit overdone, maybe, as those foreigners sometimes are; but a perfect gentleman. One who can be friendly and still keep his distance — you know.

I happened to notice those two particularly, on account of the younger one; and, besides, the desk clerk asked me if I could read the foreigner’s signature — she couldn’t. He didn’t have a passport because he said he was an English subject, and he spoke English so well the clerk said his name was nothing to go by.

Then I didn’t see them any more after that until about half-past three the next morning when I was making myself a drop of cocoa.

Only me and the cleaners were there when I heard a noise behind me, and who should it be but that Mr. Darnley opening the door of my desk. I thought to myself, “Here’s a hold-up!” But it wasn’t a hold-up, and a good job too for Mr. Darnley or anybody else who might try it on.

He wanted his bill, and I thought, “There’s something thundering queer about you.” But I didn’t say anything, only went to the counter and rummaged about, for Gladys never puts the books in the same place twice running, though I suppose you can’t expect her to be perfect in everything.

Well, I checked him up and kept the change as he told me, and off he went.

Just then the day porter came in from his regimental blow-out or whatever it was, sober as a judge because he’s got a good head and anyway it was ladies’ night or something and he had taken his girl with him. So I said to George (that’s his name), “Prop the

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