Тридцать девять ступеней
Chapter 8
WhilehewastakingoffhiscoatIsawwhoitwas.Youcouldn’topenanewspaperoramagazinewithoutseeingthatface—thegreybeardcutlikeaspade,thefirmfightingmouth,thebluntsquarenose,andthekeenblueeyes.IrecognizedtheFirstSeaLord,theman,theysay,thatmadethenewBritishNavy.
Hepassedmyalcoveandwasusheredintoaroomatthebackofthehall.AsthedooropenedIcouldhearthesoundoflowvoices.Itshut,andIwasleftaloneagain.
FortwentyminutesIsatthere,wonderingwhatIwastodonext.IwasstillperfectlyconvincedthatIwaswanted,butwhenorhowIhadnonotion.Ikeptlookingatmywatch,andasthetimecreptontohalf-pasttenIbegantothinkthattheconferencemustsoonend.InaquarterofanhourRoyershouldbespeedingalongtheroadtoPortsmouth....
ThenIheardabellring,andthebutlerappeared.Thedoorofthebackroomopened,andtheFirstSeaLordcameout.Hewalkedpastme,andinpassingheglancedinmydirection,andforasecondwelookedeachotherintheface.
Onlyforasecond,butitwasenoughtomakemyheartjump.Ihadneverseenthegreatmanbefore,andhehadneverseenme.Butinthatfractionoftimesomethingsprangintohiseyes,andthatsomethingwasrecognition.Youcan’tmistakeit.Itisaflicker,asparkoflight,aminuteshadeofdifferencewhichmeansonethingandonethingonly.Itcameinvoluntarily,forinamomentitdied,andhepassedon.InamazeofwildfanciesIheardthestreetdoorclosebehindhim.
