New Celebrations: The Adventures of Anthony Villiers Read Online Free PDF

flushed again. The quarry had won free.
    It was then that Villiers discovered that not only had he lost Adams, but that he had also lost himself. In the twists and turns, in this maze that looked altogether too much the same, he had contrived to misplace the staircase.
    He felt not at all fazed by this. He was lost, but not totally lost. He could not find a specific point again, but he knew in general where he was in relation to where he wanted to be. He needed to find another staircase and follow it up to one of the public levels with which he was familiar and he would have no problem.
    He decided to continue in his present corridor, but that proved to be no proper solution. The corridor shortly debauched into a great hall. In the hall was standing a great red machine like a mechanical grasshopper, and Villiers recognized it for an automatic unloader. This must be one of the ports of Star Well.
    The hall came to an abrupt end beyond the grasshopper. Just outside, a ship would nestle in a web cradle. An extensor would reach to the ship and then doors in both ship and extensor would open. The grasshopper would move on rails to the mouth of the ship and then on rails back to the warehouses along the hall.
    In a parallel hall another extensor would reach to the ship and passengers would debark. It was through such a mechanism that Villiers had entered Star Well. But not this port, he thought. His attention had been on other things and he didn’t remember the fine details of his entry, but though one port has much the look of another, he was certain of that much.
    It seemed to Villiers that he might find the parallel corridor and from there find his way home, but on second thought he decided to stick with the method that he was positive would bring him right. So he probed on in search of a stair.
    Some minutes later, he was striding along a corridor briskly when a voice halted him.
    “Mr. Villiers?” The voice was tentative.
    He turned. It was Hisan Bashir Shirabi himself, standing at an open door. Shirabi could never be mistaken for a gentleman no matter what his clothing. He hadn’t the poise, the bearing, the look, the accent, the manners, the totality that Godwin, for instance, was able to present. It was unlikely that Shirabi had ever made the attempt.
    He was moderately tall, and thin enough that he looked taller. He was dark and the edge of his hooked nose was sharp enough that one felt he might use it as an offensive weapon. His mustache was black and thick, but not at all ragged: it had the lush surface of a tight-piled carpet. His manner was furtive in a way that Adams, try as he might, could never match. Adams temporarily assumed his furtiveness; Shirabi’s was an ingrained part of his nature.
    His clothes were common, and in this case, more than common. They were one-wear disposables and were marred by a number of darkening spots and stains. Shirabi was wearing gloves. He stripped them off, threw them behind him, and closed the door.
    “May I help you, Mr. Villiers?” He could have been asking what Villiers was doing here, but he wouldn’t ask that directly. Not him.
    Villiers gestured politely. “Perhaps you might, Mr. Shirabi. I was seeking to take the stairs from the Promenade to the level of my quarters. I made the error of looking through this book as I walked, and quite frankly I haven’t the least idea where I am. I would be honored if you would guide me, sir.”
    “Oh, glad to, glad to,” said Shirabi. He pointed ahead and they set out. “You ought to be more careful. It’s possible to become seriously lost down here. Has it been long, sir?”
    There was a difference between a “sir” in his mouth and a “sir” in Villiers’.
    “By the clock, only a short time. Subjectively, somewhat longer. I shall have to take a lesson from this and do less reading in unfamiliar surroundings.”
    Shirabi looked at him. “You don’t seem shaken by the experience. I’ll say that.”
    “Mr. Shirabi, it is