Destination Unknown - Agatha Christie [68]
‘You will find arrangements rather simple,’ said Miss Jennson, ‘but not too primitive. The bathroom accommodation is through there to the right. The communal living-room is through the door at the end.’
The communal living-room where they all met again was plainly furnished rather like an airport waiting-room–there was a bar and snack counter at one side. Along the other side was a row of bookshelves.
The day passed quite agreeably. There were two cinema performances shown on a small portable screen.
The lighting was of the daylight type which tended to obscure the fact that there were no windows. Towards evening a fresh set of bulbs came on–soft and discreet night lighting.
‘Clever,’ said Peters appreciatively. ‘It all helps to minimize the feeling of being walled up alive.’
How helpless they all were, thought Hilary. Somewhere, quite near them, were a party from the outside world. And there was no means of communicating with them, of appealing for help. As usual, everything had been ruthlessly and efficiently planned.
Peters was sitting with Miss Jennson. Hilary suggested to the Murchisons that they should play bridge. Tom Betterton refused. He said he couldn’t concentrate, but Dr Barron made a fourth.
Oddly enough, Hilary found the game enjoyable. It was half-past eleven when their third rubber came to an end, with herself and Dr Barron the winners.
‘I enjoyed that,’ she said. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s quite late. I suppose the V.I.P.s will have left now–or do they spend the night here?’
‘I don’t really know,’ said Simon Murchison. ‘I believe one or two of the specially keen medicos stay over. Anyway, they’ll all have gone by tomorrow midday.’
‘And that’s when we’re put back into circulation?’
‘Yes. About time, too. It upsets all one’s routine, this sort of thing.’
‘But it is well arranged,’ said Bianca with approval.
She and Hilary got up and said good night to the two men. Hilary stood back a little to allow Bianca to precede her into the dimly lit dormitory. As she did so, she felt a soft touch on her arm.
She turned sharply to find one of the tall, dark-faced servants standing beside her.
He spoke in a low urgent voice in French.
‘S’il vous plaît, Madame, you are to come.’
‘Come? Come where?’
‘If you will please follow me.’
She stood irresolute for a moment.
Bianca had gone on into the dormitory. In the communal living-room the few persons left were engaged in conversation with each other.
Again she felt that soft urgent touch on her arm.
‘You will follow me please, Madame.’
He moved a few steps and stood, looking back, beckoning to her. A little doubtfully Hilary followed him.
She noticed that this particular man was far more richly dressed than most of the native servants. His robes were embroidered heavily with gold thread.
He led her through a small door in a corner of the communal living-room, then once more along the inevitable anonymous white corridors. She did not think it was the same way by which they had come to the Emergency Wing, but it was always difficult to be sure because of the similarity of the passages. Once she tried to ask a question but the guide shook his head impatiently and hurried on.
He stopped finally at the end of a corridor and pressed a button in the wall. A panel slid back disclosing a small lift. He gestured her in, followed her, and the lift shot upwards.
Hilary said sharply: ‘Where are you taking me?’
The dark eyes held hers in a kind of dignified reproof.
‘To the Master, Madame. It is for you a great honour.’
‘To the Director, you mean?’
‘To the Master…’
The lift stopped. He slid back the doors and motioned her out. Then they walked down another corridor and arrived at a door. Her guide rapped on the door and it was opened from inside. Here again were white robes, gold embroidery and a black impassive face.
The man took Hilary across the small red-carpeted anteroom and drew aside some hangings at the farther side. Hilary passed through. She found herself, unexpectedly, in an