The Smog Read Free Page B

of cameras cocked, of pencils poised, but none of these things seemed to matter. Only what he had been told had any meaning at all, and that was a nightmare meaning. The whole village – dead? It was a crazy joke, an insane –
    Nonsense: this was no joke; these men were policemen.
    â€œMr. Costain, I asked you a question—”
    â€œAnd I’ll answer it when we’re not being overheard,” Costain said sharply. “I still can’t believe—” he broke off, for it was useless to say that, useless to protest. “Where will you take Mrs. Drummond?”
    â€œShe will be well looked after, sir.”
    â€œThat’s not good enough,” said Costain sharply. “I want to know where she is being taken, who is going to look after her.”
    â€œIs that any special concern of yours, sir?” Devine asked.
    There was another short pause, in which Costain felt the stirring of anger, anger which grew rather than faded, which made him very resentful indeed. He stared coldly into the superintendent’s face, and said with great precision: “That is an insolent question, Superintendent. I resent it very much indeed and I insist on being told what is being done for Mrs. Drummond. Have her parents been informed? Or her husband’s? Where is she, now?”
    He was acutely aware of Devine staring back at him almost defiantly, and could not understand his expression or his manner. His anger rose. There was no reason for such behaviour, Devine was behaving almost as if he were a suspect, not a man who had just received a shock great enough to flatten him.
    A – suspect?
    â€œI’m sorry if I caused you offence, sir,” said Devine perfunctorily. “Perhaps it would be better if we went along to the station, we can deal with all matters there.”
    With that, it seemed to Costain, there was no doubt at all: the police were hostile. He could not even begin to imagine why, and was not at all sure that he would do what Devine asked. Because of his anger, he wanted time to decide and he stood unmoving, isolated. He had a strong impression that if he refused to do what Devine asked, he would be taken to the police station whether he liked it or not.
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Chapter Three
Costain
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    He had to decide in the next few seconds.
    He was aware of changes in his attitude, not only in the past few days but in the past few minutes. His mind worked more quickly even though he did not show it, the habit of keeping one’s thoughts to oneself died hard. He was aware of Devine’s almost accusing, certainly aggressive manner, of the newspapermen, of the photographers.
    â€œI would like to see Mrs. Drummond,” he said very clearly. “After that, I will go home. I will answer any questions there.”
    Devine noticeably stiffened.
    â€œI’m afraid you can’t go home, sir. The whole village is contam—is under supervision. It really would be better if you were to come with me.”
    Now the man had a reasonable argument. Costain had to go somewhere. But before he answered the significance of the answer swept down upon him. “The whole village is contam—is under supervision.” What had he started to say? Con-con- contaminated, that was obviously the word. Now facts drove home with increasing force. Contaminated – the whole village wiped out – gas – poison gas. Plague area! He felt himself going pale as reaction set in, and he moistened his lips.
    â€œAll right, I’ll come with you,” he said, and added with sharp petulance: “But I don’t see why you’re so mysterious about Mrs. Drummond.”
    Devine, only a foot or two away, pretended not to hear, but immediately made a conciliatory move.
    â€œWe’ve kept a room for you at a hotel, sir.”
    â€œOh.” This was another, lesser shock; he couldn’t get into his cottage, couldn’t get his clothes, razor, anything he needed, and