Supping With Panthers Read Online Free PDF Page B

pallor was almost too waxy, too white. I remembered the man who had seized my leg the night before; his face had been similarly pale before I had blown it half-away, and I recalled how dead his eyes had looked. Eliot was right; the Russians had worn the faces of imbeciles – all save one, of course, that damnable woman with her burning eyes. I began to wonder about the disease, to fear how infectious it might truly be.
    But I could not allow myself to brood for long. I sat amongst my men, swapping jokes and mugs of tea. They deserved their relaxation, for it had been a stiffish day and tomorrow, God knew, might turn out breezy as well. I glanced up at the road ahead of us. The more I studied it, the less I liked its look. It would be an act of bravery akin to folly, I knew, to follow it any further up the mountainside. I wondered if we should not wait for Pumper and his men, but I was mustard-keen to spy the land out further and have another crack at the Ivans up ahead. I remembered our prisoner. Whoever or whatever she was, she might prove a useful hostage to us. I rose and wished my men good-night; then I crossed back to Eliot, where his patient still lay.
    ‘So, then,’ I asked him, ‘she’s still alive?’
    A shadow appeared to pass across his face. ‘Look,’ he replied and he drew back a blanket. The prisoner’s eyes were still closed, but there was a faint smile on her lips and her cheeks seemed plumper and touched with red. Eliot replaced the blanket and rose to his feet He crossed to the other side of the fire, and I noticed a second body stretched out there; it lay perfectly still.
    ‘Who is it?’ I asked.
    Eliot bent down. Again he drew back a blanket and I recognised Private Compton, a good lad and usually the very picture of ruddy health. But now his skin was remarkably pale, just as the Russians’ had been, and his eyes, which were open, seemed glassy and dead. ‘Look,’ said Eliot, and began to unbutton his patient’s tunic. He pointed; there were scratches all over Compton’s chest, and the wounds were vivid and raised like welts. I looked up into Eliot’s eyes. ‘Who did this?’ I asked. ‘What did this?’ He slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied.
    ‘And the pallor? – the look in his eyes? – dammit, Eliot, is this your disease?’
    He glanced up at me; then slowly, he nodded his head.
    ‘So where has it come from?’
    ‘I told you before – I just don’t know.’ The admission of this ignorance seemed to cause him displeasure. He glanced through the flames at the body of the prisoner. ‘It is possible, I suppose,’ he said, with a wave of his hand, ‘that she is infected. Her skin seems very cold and it has a certain pallid gleam, but otherwise she lacks the primary symptoms of the disease. It may be that she’s a vector, transmitting it but remaining unaffected herself. The problem is, though, that I am not even certain how the disease is being spread.’
    He sighed and glanced down at the wounds across poor Compton’s chest; he seemed on the verge of saying something, but then he froze and stared through the flames at the prisoner again. ‘I will keep a watch on her,’ he said slowly, ‘on her and on Compton.’ He looked up at me. ‘Don’t worry, Captain. Leave me with the patients, and if anything happens I will let you know at once.’
    I nodded. ‘But please, for God’s sake,’ I muttered, ‘don’t let her die on us.’ I glanced up at the road to Kalikshutra again. ‘If we can only get her to talk, she might know of another way up that devilish cliff.’ Eliot glanced at me and nodded; again he appeared ready to say something, but for a second time the words seemed to freeze on his tongue. I wished him good-night and left him staring into Compton’s face, wiping the poor fellow’s brow. Clearly we both had much to think about. I needed a good pipe, I realised. I sat down, and lit one. But I must have been more tired than I had thought, for