The Spy Who Came in From the Cold Read Online Free PDF Page A

sorry for him. They thought he was
dirty, too, the way he didn’tshave
weekends and his shirts all grubby. A Mrs. McCaird from Sudbury Avenue cleaned for him for a
week, but having never received a civil word from him withdrew her labor. She
was an important source of information in the Street, where tradesmen told one
another what they needed to know in case he asked for credit. Mrs. McCaird’s
advice was against credit. Leamas never had a letter, she said, and they agreed
that that was serious. He’d no pictures and only a few books; she thought one of
the books was dirty but couldn’t be sure because it was in foreign writing. It
was her opinion he had a bit to live on, and that that bit was running out. She
knew he drew Benefit on Thursdays. Bayswater was warned, and needed no second
warning. They heard from Mrs. McCaird that he drank like a fish: this was
confirmed by the bartender. Bartenders and charwomen are not in the way of
accommodating their clients with credit, but their information is treasured by
those who are.
     

4
Liz
    Finally he took the job in the library. The Labour
Exchange put him on to it each Thursday morning as he drew his unemployment
benefit, and he’d always turned it down.
    “It’s not really your cup of tea,” Mr.
Pitt said, “but the pay’s fair and thework’s easy for an educated man.”
    “What sort of library?” Leamas asked.
    “It’s the Bayswater Library for Psychic
Research. It’s an endowment. They’ve got thousands of volumes, all sorts, and
they’ve been left a whole lot more. They want another helper.”
    He took his dole and the slip of paper.
“They’re an odd lot,” Mr. Pitt added, “but then you’re not a
stayer anyway, are you? I think it’s time you gave them a try, don’t you?”
    It was odd about Pitt. Leamas was certain he’d
seen him before somewhere. At the Circus, during the war.
    The library was like a church hall, and very cold.
The black oil stoves ateither
end made it smell of paraffin. In the middle of the room was a cubicle like a
witness box and inside it sat Miss Crail, the librarian.
    It had never occurred to Leamas that he might have
to work for a woman. No one at the Labour Exchange had said anything about
that.
    “I’m the new help,” he said; “my name’s
Leamas.”
    Miss Crail looked up sharply from her card index,
as if she had heard a rudeword. “Help? What do you mean, help?”
    “Assistant. From the Labour Exchange. Mr. Pitt.” He pushed across
thecounter a form with his
particulars entered in a sloping hand. She picked it up and studied it.
    “You are Mr. Leamas.” This was not a
question, but the first stage of a laborious fact-finding investigation.
“And you are from the Labour Exchange.”
    “No. I was sent by the Exchange. They told me
you needed an assistant.” “I see.” A wooden
smile.
    At that moment the telephone rang: she lifted the
receiver and began arguingwith
somebody, fiercely. Leamas guessed they argued all the time; there were no
preliminaries. Her voice just rose a key and she began
arguing about some tickets for a concert. He listened for a minute or two and
then drifted toward the bookshelves. He noticed a girl in one of the alcoves,
standing on a ladder sorting large volumes.
    “I’m the new man,” he said, “my
name’s Leamas.”
    She came down from the ladder and shook his hand a little
formally.
    “I’m Liz Gold. How d’you do. Have you met
Miss Crail?”
    “Yes, but she’s on the phone at the moment.”
    “Arguing with her mother I expect. What are
you going to do?”
    “I don’t know. Work.”
    “We’re marking at the moment; Miss Crail’s
started a new index.”
    She was a tall girl, ungainly, with a long waist
and long legs. She wore flat, ballet type shoes to reduce her height. Her face,
like her body, had large componentswhich
seemed to hesitate between plainness and beauty. Leamas guessed she was
twenty-two or three, and Jewish.
    “It’s just a question of checking