The Judas Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

this dim, warm, alien room. A coal dropped quietly to the hearth. From a dark corner came the measured tick-tock of a grandfather clock, unseen but for the glint of firelight on its old brass dial. The blue willow-pattem cups on the table caught the light too. Why on earth was he here, rather than bent strainingly over Osler and Cunningham in the cramped attic that was his lodging? He had taken a spin to clear his head – his one practical concession to leisure – before settling down to a long weekend grind. But with his final examination only five weeks away it was lunacy to waste time here, in this unprofitable manner. And yet, these people were so hospitable, and the food on the table looked so damned inviting. With his money running out it was weeks since he had eaten a proper square meal.
    The door opened suddenly and Mary was back, carrying a tea tray and accompanied by a stout, dropsical-looking woman and a tall, thin man of about twenty-six or seven, very correct in a dark blue suit and high stiff collar.
    â€˜Here’s some more of us,’ Mary laughed. ‘Aunt Minnie and,’ she blushed slightly, ‘ my intended, Mr Walter Stoddart.’
    As she spoke her father appeared with the boy, Willie, and after the baker had muttered a quick grace, they all sat down at table.
    â€˜I am led to believe,’ Stoddart, who, while Mary poured the tea, had been served first with cold ham and great deference by Aunt Minnie, now addressed himself to Moray with a polite smile, ‘ that you have had a somewhat trying experience. I myself had a somewhat similar adventure on the Luss road when a boy. When was it now, let me see, ah, yes, in nineteen oh nine, that hot summer we had. I was just thirteen years of age and growing fast. A push bicycle, naturally, in that era, and a punctured tyre. Fortunately I sustained nothing more serious than an abrasion of the left elbow, though it might well have been a tragedy. May I trouble you for another sugar, Mary. You know, I think, that my preference is for three lumps.’
    â€˜Oh, I’m sorry, Walter dear.’
    Stoddart, evidently, was regarded, not only by himself, but by the family, as a person of definite, importance. And presently Aunt Minnie, who seemed his chief admirer, conveyed to Moray in a whispered, wheezy aside that Walter was the Town Clerk’s son, with a splendid position in the accounts department of the Gas Department – a real catch for Mary, she supplemented with a meaning, satisfied nod.
    The situation intrigued Moray, provoked his sense of humour. Walter’s excruciating mannerisms, his condescension towards the Douglases exercised, with all the stiff assertiveness of the small-town bureaucrat, even the ostrich-like convulsion of his long thin neck when he drank his tea – all these gave promise of entertainment. While doing full justice to the good things on the table, it amused him to cultivate Stoddart, playing a little on his vanity, and at the same time defining his own position, as coequal, by relating, in a racy style, some of the more interesting aspects of his work in the out-patient’s department of the Infirmary. It was not long before he was rewarded by indications of Walter’s growing esteem. Indeed as the meal drew to its close, Stoddart took out his gold watch and clicked it open – this was another and frequent mannerism – meanwhile favouring Moray with a toothy smile.
    â€˜It’s a great pity I am obliged to leave you so soon. I’m escorting Mary to the Band of Hope Social. Otherwise I should have been delighted to have more of your company. However, I have a suggestion. I am of the opinion that it would be highly irregular for you to convey your motor-cycle to Winton without a ticket, sub rosa, as the saying is, in the manner indicated to me by Mary. It might expose you to all sorts of pains and penalties. After all, the North British Railway does not frame its code of bylaws