McCreary Moves In [antikvár]

McCreary Moves In The sky was clear and cloudless and the sun struck back cruelly from the smooth water and made vivid patterns of light and shadow in the folds of the land. McCreary stood with Rubensohn and Lisette and let the warmth and the colour seep into him. Lisette was cool and remote - her eyes an enigma behind the dark glasses. Rubensohn was elated and voluble. He gestured widely and talked in his high emphatic voice with an enthusiasm odd and disturbing in so devious a man. 'You see now what I meant, McCreary? The new land of promise! No tax-collectors, no policemen, no jacks-in-office sitting behind their papers like shabby kings! There is the sun, the sky, the sea, the land - and all that a man cares to wrench out of it with his own two hands. Where have they all gone, the old adventurers? There are a hundred places like this, waiting like women to be taken, but the adventurers never come. Where are they?' 'It's an interesting question.' McCreary's eyes brightened with mischief. CHAPTER I When he woke, it was mid-aftemoon. The first thing he saw was the old-fashioned fan turning slowly and uselessly in the heavy air. It made no draught, only a sleepy drone as if the spindle were worn and needed oiling. Then he saw the sunlight seeping through the slats of the rattan blinds. It was enough for a beginning. He was in bed, in a room, with a fan. It was day-time. The rest could wait until he was strong enough to cope with it. He closed his eyes again. His mouth was dry and there was a bitter, metallic taste on his tongue. His skin was clammy and strong-smelling. When he tried to move, his muscles were slack and reluctant. He remembered that he had had the fever. He wondered, idly, how long the attack had lasted and whether anybody had come to look after him. There must have been someone. His clothes had been stripped off and he was naked under the cotton sheets. There had been vague voices and hands mopping his forehead, holding him up while other hands held a glass to his chattering lips. Hands and voices but never a name or a face. Carefully, he opened his eyes and turned his head. He saw a bedside table of red carved wood, a glass jug, half full of water, and a tumbler. He eased himself into a sitting position and poured himself a drink. His hand trembled and the jug rattled against the tumbler and some of the water splashed on to the table-top.