Тридцять дев’ять ступенів

           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.