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

that all
the books are m the shelves. This is the reference bit, you see. When you’ve
checked, you pencil in the new reference andmark it off on the index.”
    “What happens then?”
    “Only Miss Crail’s allowed to ink in the
reference. It’s the rule.”
    “Whose rule?”
    “Miss Crail’s. Why
don’t you start on the archaeology?”
    Leamas nodded and together they walked to the next
alcove where a shoe boxfull of
cards lay on the floor.
    “Have you done this kind of thing
before?” she asked.
    “No.” He stopped and picked up a handful
of cards and shuffled through them.“Mr.
Pitt sent me. From the Exchange.” He put the
cards back.
    “Is Miss Crail the only person who can ink
the cards, too?” Leamas inquired. “Yes.”
    She left him there, and after a moment’s
hesitation he took out a book and looked at the flyleaf. It was called Archaeological
Discoveries in Asia Minor . VolumeFour. They only seemed to have
Volume Four.
    It was one
o’clock and Leamas was very hungry, so he walked over to where Liz
Gold was sorting and said, “What happens about lunch?”
    “Oh, I bring sandwiches.” She looked a
little embarrassed. “You can have someof mine if that would help. There’s no café for miles.”
    Leamas shook his head.
    “I’ll go out, thanks. Got some shopping to do. ” She watched him push his waythrough the swing doors.
    It was half
past two when he came back. He smelled of whisky. He had oneshopping bag full of vegetables and another containing groceries . He put them down ina corner of the alcove and wearily
began again on the archaeology books. He’d been’marking for about ten minutes when he became aware that Miss
Crail was watching him.
    “ Mister Leamas.”
    He was halfway up the ladder, so he looked down
over his shoulder and said, “Yes?”
    “Do you know where these shopping bags come
from?”
    “They’re mine.”
    “I see. They are yours.” Leamas waited.
“I regret,” she continued at last, “that we do not allow it,
bringing shopping into the library.”
    “Where else can I put it? There’s nowhere
else I can put it.”
    “Not in the library,” she replied.
Leamas ignored her, and returned hisattention
to the archaeology section.
    “If you only took the normal lunch
break,” Miss Crail continued, “you would not have time to go shopping
anyway. Neither of us does, Miss Gold or myself; we do not have time to
shop.”
    “Why don’t you take an extra half hour?”
Leamas asked. “You’d have time then. If you’re pushed you can work another
half hour in the evening. If you’re pressed.”
    She stayed for some moments, lust watching him and
obviously thinking ofsomething
to say. Finally she announced: “I shall discuss it with Mr.
Ironside,” and went away.
    At exactly half past five Miss Crail put on her
coat and, with a pointed “Good night, Miss Gold,” left. Leamas
guessed she had been brooding on the shopping bagsall afternoon. He went into the next alcove where Liz Gold was
sitting on the bottom rung of her ladder reading what looked like a tract. When
she saw Leamas she dropped it guiltily into her handbag and stood up.
    “Who’s Mr. Ironside?” Leamas asked.
    “I don’t think he exists,” she replied.
“He’s her big gun when she’s stuck for an answer. I asked her once who he
was. She went all shifty and mysterious and said ‘Never mind.’ I don’t think he
exists.”
    “I’m not sure Miss Crail does,” said Leamas, and Liz
Gold smiled.
    At six o’clock she locked up and gave the keys to the curator, a very old man with First World
War shellshock who, said Liz, sat awake all night in case the Germans made a
counterattack. It was bitterly cold outside.
    “Got far to go?” asked Leamas.
    “Twenty-minute walk. I always walk it. Have
you?”
    “Not far,” said Leamas. “Good night.”
    He walked slowly back to the flat. He let himself in and turned
the light switch. Nothing happened. He tried the light in the tiny kitchen