Destination Unknown Read Online Free PDF Page B

very far away and curiously unimportant. There was nothing more to be done. She would swallow the pills and lie down on her bed and sleep. From that sleep she would not wake. She had not, or thought she had not, any religious feeling. Brenda's death had shut down on all that. So there was nothing more to consider. She was once again a traveller as she had been at Heathrow Airport, a traveller waiting to depart for an unknown destination, unencumbered by baggage, unaffected by farewells. For the first time in her life she was free, entirely free, to act as she wished to act. Already the past was cut away from her. The long aching misery that had dragged her down in her waking hours was gone. Yes. Light, free, unencumbered! Ready to start on her journey.
    She stretched out her hand towards the first tablet. As she did so there came a soft, discreet tap on the door. Hilary frowned. She sat there, her hand arrested in mid-air. Who was it - a chambermaid? No, the bed had already been turned down. Somebody, perhaps, about papers or passport? She shrugged her shoulders. She would not answer the door. Why should she bother? Presently whoever it was would go away and come back at some further opportunity.
    The knock came again, a little louder this time. But Hilary did not move. There could be no real urgency, and whoever it was would soon go away.
    Her eyes were on the door, and suddenly they widened with astonishment. The key was slowly turning backwards round the lock. It jerked forward and fell on the floor with a metallic clang. Then the handle turned, the door opened and a man came in. She recognised him as the solemn, owlish young man who had been buying toothpaste. Hilary stared at him. She was too startled for the moment to say or do anything. The young man turned round, shut the door, picked the key up from the floor, put it into the lock and turned it. Then he came across towards her and sat down in a chair the other side of the table. He said, and it seemed to her a most incongruous remark:
    “My name's Jessop.”
    The colour rose sharply in Hilary's face. She leaned forward. She said with cold anger,
    “What do you think you're doing here, may I ask?”
    He looked at her solemnly - and blinked.
    “Funny,” he said. “I came to ask you that.” He gave a quick sideways nod towards the preparations on the table. Hilary said sharply:
    “I don't know what you mean.”
    “Oh yes, you do.”
    Hilary paused, struggling for words. There were so many things she wanted to say. To express indignation. To order him out of the room. But strangely enough, it was curiosity that won the day. The question rose to her lips so naturally that she was almost unaware of asking it.
    “That key,” she said, “it turned, of itself, in the lock?”
    “Oh, that!” The young man gave a sudden boyish grin that transformed his face. He put his hand into his pocket, and taking out a metal instrument, he handed it to her to examine.
    “There you are,” he said, “very handy little tool. Insert it into the lock the other side, it grips the key and turns it.” He 'took it back from her and put it in his pocket. “Burglars use them,” he said.
    “So you're a burglar?”
    “No, no, Mrs. Craven, do me justice. I did knock, you know. Burglars don't knock. Then, when it seemed you weren't going to let me in, I used this.”
    “But why?”
    Again her visitor's eyes strayed to the preparations on the table.
    “I shouldn't do it if I were you,” he said. “It isn't a bit what you think, you know. You think you just go to sleep and you don't wake up. But it's not quite like that. All sorts of unpleasant effects. Convulsions sometimes, gangrene of the skin. If you're resistant to the drug, it takes a long time to work, and someone gets to you in time and then all sorts of unpleasant things happen. Stomach pump. Castor oil, hot coffee, slapping and pushing. All very undignified, I assure you.”
    Hilary leaned back in her chair, her eyelids