He went to the wash-basin, washed his hands and face carefully in tepid water, and dabbed them dry. As a result the pink streaks turned red. They tingled, too. He went to the door and banged on it with his clenched fist, and then stood back and waited for someone to come.
Before long, he heard footsteps.
CHAPTER V
HE knew, before the door opened, that a woman was outside. The footsteps were quick and light, and he heard them distinctly, which argued against the door being steel. He heard a key scrape in the lock, so it had a lock on the outside. He sat down on the bed, looking towards the door.
The girl came in, started back when she saw him, then smiled, and closed the door. He caught a glimpse of a man who remained in the passage outside.
“Good morning,” the girl said brightly. “Is there anything you want?”
“Tea,” Roger said. “In urns, if possible, or pint mugs.”
“Some will be sent up in a few minutes.”
“Cigarettes and a lighter.”
“I can give you a cigarette,” she said, “but I am not allowed to leave matches with you, or to let you smoke when you’re alone.”
She took a small plastex case from a pocket in her pale-grey frock, and a lighter. She had to come near, to light his cigarette^ Few men would complain at being near her. She wasn’t beautiful, she just looked—good. It was in the clear grey of her fine eyes, the soft colour of her cheeks, the curve of her lips. She had a heart-shaped face, and light-brown hair—he supposed she would call it auburn. It was cut short, and if the waves and curls were machine-made, he would be surprised. Her hands were not small, but were well-shaped, and her nails were varnished a pale pink— pale enough to look natural.
He drew at the cigarette.
“All right?”
“Yes, thanks. Who are you?”
“You may call me Marion.”
He leaned back, nursed his knees with his hands, and looked at her without frowning.
“That’s thoughtful of you. What are you going to call me?”
“Mr. King.”
“Oh, I’m a king again, am I?”
She backed away until she reached one of the arm-chairs, and sat on an arm. She crossed her legs. She wore a long dress, but it didn’t hide the shapeliness of her ankles or the lower part of her legs. She was slim, but not too thin, tall for a woman.
“Did you patch up my face last night?” Roger asked.
“Yes, how does it feel?”
“As if it needs patching up again.”
“Now?”
“Yes, please.”
She went to the wash-basin and opened the cupboard above it, took out a small pot of white salve, and came towards him. “Sit up straight,” she said, and when he obeyed, she took some of the salve on her fingers and began gently to rub it along the scratches. When she had finished, she stood back and said:
“What about your hand?”
He held it out obediently.
“Thanks very much,” he said when she had finished. “You’re as good as a trained nurse.”
“You have to learn a little of everything.” She seemed anxious to make sure that he didn’t think she was a trained nurse. She was somehow wary, watching him as if he might attack her. She glanced out of the window, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of her profile. She had a short nose, slightly tip-tilted, and tiny pale-pink ears. In every way, she was a wholesome creature, and the word “goodness” came to his mind. Then he imagined her as she would be with her face smashed in.
The door opened.
This time, he’d heard no footsteps.
A man came in, a little fellow wearing a white jacket, with a grey, bullet-shaped head and mournful brown eyes. His brown shoes were polished brightly enough to attract attention. He carried a large tray with the experienced poise of an accomplished waiter, and placed it on the bedside table. Roger ran his gaze over the tray. The oddest thing was the ivory knife; more like a very blunt paper-knife than a table-knife. There was tea, toast, marmalade, butter—plenty of them all—and two plates under silver covers.
“I should sit in bed and have it,” said Marion.
“I never like breakfast in bed.”
“You don’t want to overdo anything,” she said, but humoured him by placing an upright chair in front of the table. He poured himself out a cup of tea; ah! He finished it before he lifted the covers. By then, the waiter had
