Adventures Read Online Free PDF Page B

let me in on it, Brother Rongeur?”
    “Then it wouldn't be private any longer, would it?” he replied. “Besides, it really has very little to do with the business at hand. Have you reached a decision?”
    “I'll have to spend some time weighing all my offers very carefully,” I said. “I should be able to come to a decision by tonight. I can meet you at—”
    “Oh, we needn't make any arrangements, Doctor Jones,” he interrupted. “I don't intend to let you out of my sight for the rest of the day.”
    “Oh?”
    “I don't mean to disturb you, but you must understand my position. Just go on about your business as if I weren't here. I shall try to be as unobtrusive as possible.”
    I thanked him and began walking back to the hotel. Every now and again I'd turn back and, sure enough, there he'd be, ducking in and out of shadows about fifty feet behind me. He was such a skinny little man and I got to feeling so sorry for him that once or twice, when I got too far ahead of him, I'd browse at a vendor's table and give him a chance to catch up, for which he shot me a couple of very grateful smiles.
    I finally got to my room, relaxed in the cast-iron tub for an hour, shaved, and lay down for a little nap. When I woke up it was getting on toward sunset, so I changed into my Sunday preaching clothes and decided it was time to stroll over to Maurice's. The Rodent was waiting for me on the hotel veranda, and began following me at a respectful distance.
    Maurice's was exotic and dirty, with about a three-to-one ratio in favor of the dirt. There were a number of rooms with pretty farfetched doorframes, all separated by rows of hanging beads. The lighting throughout the place was dim, the air was circulated by a couple of very large and slow-turning overhead fans, and the walls were covered with animal heads, tapestries, and paintings of very naked ladies. I paused in the bar just long enough to stuff a couple of bills in the brassiere of a belly dancer and then walked into one of the smaller back rooms, where I found Major Dobbins, late of His Majesty's armed forces, sitting at a table and puffing away at his cigarette holder.
    “Ah!” he exclaimed as his gaze fell upon me. “My dear Doctor Jones! l trust your day went well.”
    “So far, so good,” I assured him. “Of course, it ain't over yet.”
    “True,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But any day that begins with a visit from the Dutchman can't fail but to get better, eh?” He chortled and poured half a flask of gin into his water glass. Then, stirring it up a little with a dirty coffee spoon, he drank it down in a single swallow. “I know it irritates Maurice,” he confided, “but I simply cannot tolerate his bar stock. And as for his wine cellar...” He gave a man-of-the-world shrug, and I nodded in my most sophisticated manner.
    At this moment the Rodent walked into our room and sat down at an adjoining table. He gave us a nervous little smile and immediately buried his nose in the menu, which was kind of strange since the only thing Maurice ever served was impala steak.
    “You know him, I presume?” said the Major, nodding in the Rodent's direction.
    “Met him this afternoon,” I said.
    “He made you an offer?”
    “He did.”
    “You turned him down, naturally,” said the Major.
    “Why naturally?”
    “Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he's a man of weak moral character,” said the Major. “Hardly the kind of person you'd care to enter into business with. See how he keeps peeking at us over the top of his menu. No, my dear sir, we Englishmen have to stick together.”
    “I'm an American,” I pointed out.
    “Same thing,” he said. “Shall we get down to details now?”
    At just that moment the Dutchman walked in and came over to our table. “I'm sure you don't mind if I join you,” he said, pulling up a chair. He had a different white suit on, but it was, if anything, even more soiled than the last one.
    “Personally, I have