Such Is Death Read Free

Onebooked in just now, though. I saw him as I was coming through the hall”
    â€œMmmm?” said Vivienne with slightly more animation.
    â€œYes. Kind of staring eyes. Didn’t look as though he was much, either. One little case and rather shabby-looking, I thought. I expect he’ll be in later and you can see for yourself. Perhaps you’ll fancy him!”
    â€œMmmm!” denied Vivienne disdainfully.
    They were busy for the next half-hour with the regulars, Vivienne for all her remoteness as efficient in serving as Doris. Some intimate matter engaged Doris and Mr Lobbin, the newsagent, from a few doors away, for their heads were close for several minutes, to be separated finally with Doris’s loud—“I’d never have believed it, mind you.” The windy cheerless night seemed to have driven in more than usual of the town’s sturdy businessmen and there was a discreet bass rumble of hearty talk.
    Presently Doris moved close to Vivienne as she poured a Guinness.
    â€œThat’s the fellow I told you about. Standing near the door. The one who booked in tonight. Got a funny look, hasn’t he?”
    â€œMmmm,” said Vivienne not without interest.
    â€œI don’t like those eyes, though. The sort you read about in the paper. Seem to drill right into you, don’t they? That’s his second double Scotch in ten minutes.”
    The man she referred to was gaunt and grey-haired, a stringy individual with large powerful hands. He might have been fifty, or a little less. His mouth was wide but thin-lipped and tightly shut and his eyes, as Doris said, were large and staring. He seemed to take no notice of anyone but drank as though it was a timed exercise, a gulp, a wait, a gulp and then two or three steps to the bar for a refill.
    Doris could not take her eyes from him.
    â€œI don’t like it,” she said to Vivienne. “There’s something queer about him. Look at the way he’s drinking that whisky as though he’d got a train to catch. Glad I don’tsleep in the hotel. I shouldn’t have a moment’s peace thinking about it.”
    â€œOh well,” volunteered Vivienne chattily.
    â€œYou don’t think he’s escaped from Somewhere, do you? He might have, you know. I was only reading in the paper the other day …”
    At this point the man under discussion came up to the bar.
    â€œWhere’s the telephone?” he asked.
    â€œThere isn’t one, not in the bar,” exclaimed Doris. “You’ll have to go through to the hall. You’ll see it there. It’s got ‘Telephone’ up on it. You’ll need coppers, though, because it’s a public box. Did you want a local call?”
    The man hesitated.
    â€œYes,” he said at last.
    â€œI can give you coppers if you want them.”
    Without answering the man went towards the door leading to the hall.
    â€œThere,” said Doris. “I told you there was something funny about him. Did you notice the way he looks at you with those eyes? Seem to go right into you. Didn’t it give you a queer feeling?”
    â€œMmmm,” said Vivienne, dubiously negative.
    â€œWell it did me. Soon as ever I saw him. I hope he doesn’t come back in here. He’s had four doubles already.” She turned to a customer. “Yes, Mr Stringer? A nice light ale? There was something I was going to tell you.” She was soon leaning forward while Mr Stringer, torn between her whisper and his thirst, uneasily inclined his head. After he had taken a long draught, he began to nod appreciatively and in his turn to reply. “So it wasn’t what it looked like being, was it?” said Doris at last releasing him.
    It was at least ten minutes before the man returned and ordered another large Scotch, served in silence by Vivienne.
    â€œDid you get through?” asked Doris chattily.
    â€œNo. No reply from any of them,” said the