Three to See the King Read Online Free PDF Page B

Privately, though, I suspected she was attempting to break each day into shorter spans.
    Another sign of boredom was when she amused herself by teasing me. Usually I wouldn’t have minded this, as I can take a joke same as the next man. Unfortunately, she often chose to raise the subject of my failed plan for living in a canyon. She seemed to have grasped that this was quite a sensitive matter with me, but instead of avoiding it she brought it up in conversations all the time.
    One day, for example, she said, ‘You know that canyon you wanted to live in?’
    ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘What about it?’
    ‘Would there be a river in the bottom?’
    ‘Could be.’
    ‘Cos if there was you’d need a canoe, wouldn’t you?’
    ‘Suppose so, yes.’
    ‘But you haven’t got a paddle.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So you’d be up a creek without a paddle!’
    She then dissolved into a fit of giggling, while I was supposed to sit there and smile politely. As I said before, I can take a joke the same as the next man, but I didn’t really like it when she kept reminding me about that canyon. To avoid the situation I tried to think of ways to stop her from getting bored, and the solution I came up with was to offer to accompany her on her walks. We tried this once, only to discover that we both went at completely different speeds. I ended up arriving home about half an hour before her, so we decided not to bother again.
    ‘Besides,’ she pointed out. The whole idea of the walks is for me to get away from you for a bit.’
    Early one morning I became aware of a gentle drumming noise. I was lying in bed, half asleep, listening to the gale outside and wondering how much sand had accumulated overnight. At first I didn’t notice the noise at all, as it almost blended in with the more familiar renderings produced by the house.
    Almost, that is, but not quite.
    The difference about this drumming was its highly rhythmical quality, so unlike the normal desultory attacks made by the elements. As if to demonstrate the point, a particularly severe blast of wind struck against the walls and brought me fully awake. When it faded away I realized that the drumming had changed. Now, all of a sudden, the rhythm had sped up. Then it stopped altogether.
    At this moment Mary Petrie stirred a little, so that the sheets and blankets rustled. By the time she’d settled down again the drumming had resumed. It was coming, as far as I could tell, from downstairs. I began to suspect that maybe an empty kettle or pan had been left on top of the stove, and was expanding as it heated up. But, surely, if it had been there all night the bottom would have melted by now, wouldn’t it? Anyway, this noise wasn’t really sharp enough for that. It was altogether softer and duller. I listened for another full minute and during that time the rhythm changed twice again.
    Then Mary Petrie awoke and said, ‘Is it raining?’
    ‘No,’ I replied.
    ‘What’s that drumming noise then?’
    ‘Don’t know.’
    ‘Well, aren’t you going to go and find out?’
    ‘Could do I suppose, but I’m quite comfortable here.’
    A few more seconds passed. The drumming persisted.
    ‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘After all, it could be a serious matter.’
    Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed and put some clothes on, then headed for the stairs. It wasn’t until I was halfway down that a thought occurred to me. Hadn’t I heard this sound somewhere before? I stopped and listened again. It had now become much more emphatic than it was earlier, and my suspicion increased. Moving more quietly I continued to make my way downstairs. With utmost stealth I slid aside the bolts at the top and bottom of the door. Then, very slowly, I opened it by about two inches. Through the crack I saw Steve Treacle, crouched down at the corner of the house, drumming on the wall with his knuckles. He was concentrating very hard on this activity, with his face close down by his hand, and didn’t notice me. I opened the