The Moonspinners Read Online Free PDF Page A

road from the east. The only road came in from the west, and then turned northwards over a pass which led it back inland. This spur of the White Mountains was served only by its tracks.
    I saw the Greek watching me, and added, quickly: ‘I started at about midday, but it wouldn’t take so long going back, of course, downhill.’
    The man on the bed shifted irritably, as if his arm hurt him. ‘The village . . . Where are you staying?’
    â€˜The hotel. There’s only one; the village is very small. But I haven’t been there yet. I only arrived at noon; I got a lift out from Heraklion, and I’m not expected, so I – I came up here for a walk, just on impulse. It was so lovely—’
    I stopped. He had shut his eyes. The gesture excluded me, but it wasn’t this that stopped me in mid-sentence. It was the sharp impression that he had not so much shut me out, as shut himself in, with something that went intolerably far beyond whatever pain he was feeling.
    I got my second impulse of the day. Frances had often told me that one day my impulses would land me in serious trouble. Well, people like to be proved right sometimes.
    I turned sharply, threw the crushed and wilted orchids out into the sunlight, and went across to the bed. Lambis moved as swiftly, thrusting out an arm to stop me, but when I pushed it aside he gave way. I dropped on one knee beside the wounded man.
    â€˜Look—’ I spoke crisply – ‘you’ve been hurt, and you’re ill. That’s plain enough. Now, I’ve no desire to push my way into what doesn’t concern me; it’s obvious you don’t want questions asked, and you needn’t tell me a single thing; I don’t want to know. But you’re sick, and if you ask me, Lambis is making a rotten job of looking after you, and if you don’t watch your step, you’re going to be very seriously ill indeed, if not downright dead. For one thing, that bandage is dirty, and for another—’
    â€˜It’s all right.’ He was speaking, still with closed eyes, to the wall. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve just got a touch of fever . . . be all right soon. You just . . . keep out of it, that’s all. Lambis should never have . . . oh well, never mind. But don’t worry about me. Get down now to your hotel and forget this . . . please.’ He turned then, and peered at me as if painfully, against the light. ‘For your own sake. I mean it.’ His good hand moved, and I put mine down to meet it. His fingers closed over mine: the skin felt dry and hot, and curiously dead. ‘But if you do see anyone on your way down . . . or in the village, who—’
    Lambis said roughly, in Greek: ‘She says she has not been to the village yet; she has seen no one. What’s the use of asking? Let her go, and pray she does keep quiet. Women all have tongues like magpies. Say no more.’
    The Englishman hardly seemed to hear him. I thought that the Greek words hadn’t penetrated. His eyes never left me, but his mouth had slackened, and he breathed as if he were all at once exhausted beyond control. But the hot fingers held on to mine. ‘They may have gone towards the village—’ the thick mutter was still in English – ‘and if you’re going that way—’
    â€˜Mark!’ Lambis moved forward, crowding me aside. ‘You’re losing your mind! Hold your tongue and tell her to go! You want sleep.’ He added in Greek: ‘I’ll go and look for him myself, as soon as I can, I promise you. He’s probably back at the caique; you torture yourself for nothing.’ Then to me, angrily: ‘Can’t you see he’s fainting?’
    â€˜All right,’ I said. ‘But don’t shout at me like that. I’m not the one that’s killing him.’ I tucked the now unresponsive hand back