Perishable Goods by Dornford Yates

Author:Dornford Yates
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Perishable Goods
ISBN: 9780755127191
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2013-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Never before or since have I felt so far out of my depth.

A moment before, we had had the suite to ourselves: the entrance doors had been wedged and as good as barred: no sound of any sort had come to our vigilant ears. Yet our movements had been closely observed, our intentions had been accurately gauged, and our enemy had been able to snare us with the effortless ease of a nurse outwitting a child.

“Keep your hands up,” said ‘Rose’ Noble, “and come and sit down – you two twopenny squirts to right and left, and the goods facing me. Move.”

Slowly we did as he said.

“Now put your palms on the table.”

Again we obeyed.

“And if anyone wants to die, they’ve only to move a hand.”

Desperately I tried to marshal my wits, for if ever a clear head was needed to save the game, it was needed now; but my brain was ever wayward, and I remember thinking how strange a picture we made and how much astonished King Maximilian would have been, could he have viewed such a company gracing his private board.

Before me Mansel sat easily, leaning back in his chair. His hair was wet and rumpled, and he wore no collar or tie. His light, tweed coat, turned up about his neck, became him admirably and a quiet smile was lighting his handsome face. On my left Adèle sat upright: her colour was high and, because of her short, crisp hair, she looked like some old picture of a beautiful boy. She was wearing a fawn-coloured dress, and white silk was edging her delicate wrists and throat. Laid upon the smooth, dark oak, her lovely hands were unforgettable. And on my right, deep in the King’s great chair, sat ‘Rose’ Noble. One pistol lay before him: the other was in his right hand. His great bulk was loose as ever, and his huge face grey and flabby as when I had seen him first. He stayed so still that he might have been some gross idol, carved out of stone. Their lids, as usual, were almost hiding his eyes, and a faint smile was hanging upon the cruellest mouth that I have ever seen.

For a long time he held his peace, but at length he gave a smooth laugh.

“‘Stone walls do not a prison make,’” he said softly. “An’ I guess you three could heckle the guy that wrote that.”

“My favourite maxim,” said Mansel pleasantly. He looked across the table at me. “William,” he said,” we must do better next time. There’s a door behind our host – in the panelling. There’s probably one in each room. They open into a passage which–”

“Quite so,” drawled ‘Rose’ Noble. “Quite so. I call it ‘The Listening Post.’ His eyelids flickered, and the blood came into my face. “And now, perhaps, you’ll let the geography stew and listen to me. I wasn’t at Oxford College, but I guess the notes I’ve sent you were plain enough.”

“As plain as my replies,” said Mansel.

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