Indian Nocturne Read Online Free PDF

curious: I would have said they were old university colleagues, and only when they agreed not to take
tomorrow’s flight for Colombo did I realise that they had only met that day. Going out I was tempted to stop in the English Bar in the lobby, but then I reflected that my tiredness had no
need of alcoholic assistance and I went up to my room.
    When the telephone rang I was cleaning my teeth. For a moment I thought it might be the Theosophical Society, since they had promised they would confirm by phone, but moving to pick it up I
rejected that hypothesis, given the time. Then it crossed my mind that before dinner I had mentioned in reception that one of the bathroom taps wasn’t working properly. And in fact it was
reception. ‘Excuse me, sir, there’s a lady who wishes to speak to you.’
    ‘I beg your pardon,’ I answered with my toothbrush between my teeth.
    ‘There’s a lady who wishes to speak to you,’ the receptionist repeated. I heard the click of a switch and a low, firm female voice said: ‘I am the person who had your
room before you, I’ve absolutely got to speak to you. I’m in the lobby.’
    ‘If you give me five minutes I’ll meet you in the English Bar,’ I said. ‘It should still be open.’
    ‘I’d prefer to come up myself,’ she said, without giving me time to reply, ‘it’s a matter of the utmost importance.’
    When she knocked I had scarcely finished getting dressed again. I told her the door was unlocked and she opened it, stopping a moment in the doorway to look at me. The light in
the corridor was dim. All I could see was that she was tall and wore a silk scarf round her shoulders. She came in, closing the door after her. I was sitting on an armchair in the full light and I
got up. I didn’t say anything, waiting. And in fact it was she who spoke first. She spoke without advancing into the room, in the same low, firm voice she’d had on the telephone.
‘Please forgive this intrusion. You must think me incredibly rude – unfortunately there are circumstances when one can hardly be otherwise.’
    ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘India is mysterious by definition, but puzzles are not my forte. Spare me any pointless effort.’
    She looked at me with a show of surprise. ‘It’s simply that I left some things that belong to me in the room,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve come to get them.’
    ‘I thought you’d be back,’ I said, ‘but frankly I didn’t expect you so soon, or rather, so late.’
    The woman watched me with increasing amazement. ‘What do you mean?’ she muttered.
    ‘That you are a thief,’ I said.
    The woman looked toward the window and took the silk scarf from her shoulders. She was beautiful, I thought, unless perhaps it was the light filtered through the lampshade that gave her face a
distant, aristocratic look. She wasn’t so young any more yet her body was very graceful.
    ‘You are very categoric,’ she said. She passed a hand across her face, as if wanting to brush away her tiredness, or a thought. Her shoulders trembled in a brief shiver. ‘What
does it mean, to steal?’ she asked.
    The silence fell between us and I caught the exasperating sound of the dripping tap. ‘I called before dinner,’ I said, ‘and they assured me they’d fix it right away.
It’s a noise I can’t stand; I’m afraid it won’t help me to get to sleep.’
    She smiled. She was leaning on the rattan chest of drawers, an arm hanging down her side as though she were very tired. ‘I think you’ll have to get used to it,’ she said.
‘I was here a week and I asked them to fix it dozens of times, then I gave up.’ She paused a moment. ‘Are you French?’
    ‘No,’ I answered.
    She looked at me with a defeated air. ‘I came in a taxi from Madurai,’ she said. ‘I’ve been travelling all day.’ She wiped her forehead with her silk scarf as if it
were a handkerchief. For a moment her face took on what looked like a desperate expression. ‘India is