The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More Read Online Free PDF Page A

betting machines or something like
that," I said.

    "That's even sillier," he answered. "There's no fun working them
lousy machines and selling tickets to mugs. Any fool could do that."

    There was a long silence. I decided not to question him any more. I remembered
how irritated I used to get in my hitch-hiking days when drivers kept asking me questions. Where are you going? Why
are you going there? What's your job? Are you married? Do you have a
girl-friend? What's her name? How old are you? And so on and so forth. I used
to hate it.

    "I'm sorry," I said. "It's none of my business what you do. The
trouble is, I'm a writer, and most writers are terrible nosey parkers."

    "You write books?" he asked.

    "Yes."

    " Writin ' books is okay," he said.
"It's what I call a skilled trade. I'm in a skilled trade too. The folks I
despise is them that spend all their lives doin ' crummy old routine jobs with no skill in em ' at all. You see what I mean?"

    "Yes."

    "The secret of life," he said, "is to become very very good at somethin ' that's
very very ' ard to do."

    "Like you," I said.

    "Exactly. You and me
both."

    "What makes you think that I'm any
good at my job?" I asked. " There's an awful
lot of bad writers around."

    "You wouldn't be drivin ' about in a car like
this if you weren't no good at it," he answered.
"It must've cost a tidy packet, this little job."

    "It wasn't cheap."

    "What can she do flat out?" he asked.

    "One hundred and twenty-nine miles an hour," I told him.

    "I'll bet she won't do it."

    "I'll bet she will."

    "All car makers is liars," he said.
"You can buy any car you like and it'll never do what the makers say it
will in the ads."

    "This one will."

    "Open ' er up then and prove it," he said.
"Go on, guv'nor , open ' er right up and let's see what she'll do."

    There is a roundabout at Chalfont St Peter and immediately beyond it there's a
long straight section of dual carriageway. We came out of the roundabout on to
the carriageway and I pressed my foot down on the accelerator. The big car
leaped forward as though she'd been stung. In ten seconds or so, we were doing
ninety.

    "Lovely!" he cried."'Beautiful ! Keep goin '!"

    I had the accelerator jammed right down against the floor and I held it there.

    "One hundred!" he shouted. . . "A hundred and five !. . . A hundred and ten !. . . A
hundred and fifteen! Go on! Don't slack off!"

    I was in the outside lane and we flashed past several cars as though they were
standing still -- a green Mini, a big cream- coloured Citroën , a white Land-Rover, a huge truck with a container
on the back, an orange- coloured Volkswagen Minibus. .
.

    "A hundred and twenty!" my passenger shouted, jumping up and down.
"Go on! Go on! Get ' er up to one-two-nine!"

    At that moment, I heard the scream of a police siren.

    It was so loud it seemed to be right inside the car, and then a policeman on a
motor-cycle loomed up alongside us on the inside lane and went past us and
raised a hand for us to stop.

    "Oh, my sainted aunt!" I said. 'That's torn
it!"

    The policeman must have been doing about a hundred and thirty when he passed
us, and he took plenty of time slowing down. Finally, he pulled into the side
of the road and I pulled in behind him. "I didn't know police motorcycles
could go as fast as that," I said rather lamely.

    "That one can," my passenger said. "It's the same make as yours.
It's a B.M.W. R90S. Fastest bike on the road. That's
what they're usin ' nowadays."

    The policeman got off his motor-cycle and leaned the machine sideways on to its
prop stand. Then he took off his gloves and placed them carefully on the seat.
He was in no hurry now. He had us where he wanted us and he knew it.

    "This is real trouble," I said. "I don't like it one bit."

    "Don't talk to ' im any more than is necessary,
you understand," my companion said. "Just sit tight and keep
mum."

    Like an executioner approaching his victim, the policeman came strolling slowly
towards us. He