Under False Colours Read Online Free PDF

framed print on the wall. Lifting it off its hook she jerked her head at the hole hidden behind it. 'See for yerself
    He put an eye to the hole and peered through into the next room. The white body of a voluptuous girl lay spread in total abandonment on the bed. Her hands were tucked behind her head, her tawny hair fanned out across the pillow. She was laughing at some remark her companion was making. Then the bulk of a man came into view. He was almost dressed, his hands busy with his neckcloth. Drinkwater needed to see no more. He turned back into the room, took the print from Zenobia's hand and replaced it.
    "E gets a bit rough sometimes,' she said, nodding at the erotic print, 'Ma Hockley sometimes keeps an eye on 'im. All the rough ones get that room.'
    Her tone suggested a pathetic attempt to palliate what she had taken for anger on Drinkwater's part. The poor creature must be desperate for money.
    'Get into bed, pull the sheets up ...'
    She did as she was bid while he pulled off his coat and tugged at his own neckcloth until it hung loosely about his neck. He threw his coat over his arm and picked up his hat and cane. Hoping to look as if he had just risen from a bed of illicit love he stood beside the door, his right hand on the knob. He turned to Zenobia. 'I'll leave the money with Mr Davey next door. I've some business to transact with him.'
    He opened the door a crack. Outside the landing was lit by a single lantern. From below came loud male laughter, more customers, Drinkwater guessed, which might make his task easier. He strove to catch the noise of the latch of the adjacent door, but Zenobia was saying something.
    Angrily he turned. 'Quiet,' he hissed.
    'Don't ya want it then?' She was holding out the nearly empty gin bottle.
    'Damn!' he muttered, crossed to the bed and grabbed it from her. As he reached the door again he saw the light from Annie's opening door, and the shadow of a man's figure. The sound of his voice rolled along the bare passage.
    'Let me go, you wanton bitch.'
    On tip-toe, Drinkwater stepped out on to the landing, closing the door behind him. Fagan stood in the adjacent doorway. Annie was clinging to him, stark naked. Fagan was pulling her arms from about his neck.
    'Upon my soul, you've been riding a fine horse, sir,' Drinkwater said in a loud voice. Fagan looked round at him and finally disengaged himself as Annie slipped back into her room. 'Heard you thrown a few times as you went over the fences.'
    'What's it to you?' Fagan turned, his expression darkly belligerent.
    'Nothing sir, nothing, except it puts a fellow off his own gallop. Have a drink,' Drinkwater held out the bottle. 'Cool yourself...'
    Fagan stared at Drinkwater, frowning. 'Who the hell are you?'
    'Captain Waters at your service, sir. Master of a barque lying in the stream. Waiting for a wind.' Drinkwater stepped towards Fagan, putting up his left arm with its coat, cane and hat to catch Fagan's elbow in a gesture of assumed friendship. 'Got a damned good rate for my freight, if I can run it,' he rattled on. 'If I can persuade those jacks-in-office of the Custom House that it's for Sweden.' He threw back his head and laughed, feeling the resistance in Fagan's demeanour relax. They made their way to the head of the stairs.
    Fagan paused at the top and turned to his accoster. Drinkwater smiled to cover his anxiety; Fagan's next remark would show Drinkwater whether he had the slightest chance of success in this mad enterprise.
    Fagan's irritation at the untimely encounter appeared to have gone. He affected a degree of casual interest in Drinkwater's drunken gossip.
    'But it ain't for Sweden, eh, Cap'n? That your drift?' There was the trace of a brogue there, Drinkwater noted as he nodded. He held out the gin bottle again. 'Here,' he said, 'drink to my good fortune,' and he finished the sentence with a laugh.
    'So where are you taking it? Somewhere the Custom House men wouldn't like, eh?'
    'Drink,' Drinkwater repeated, boldly