Cluny Brown by Margery Sharp Read Free Book Online Page B

know.”
    â€œI do,” said Betty. “Sylvia’s always short of men. But there’s no reason why we should stay if we don’t want to. As a matter of fact, we’re just going to eat somewhere. Will you come too?” She kicked John lightly on the ankle.
    â€œWe should be extraordinarily honoured, sir,” said John Frewen. “That is, if it wouldn’t bore you.”
    Belinski turned his serious glance upon Andrew. It was strange: he spoke English so well, he obviously understood perfectly; yet seemed not to comprehend what he heard. He wanted everything—rechecked.
    â€œNothing would give us greater pleasure,” said Andrew formally, “than your company.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œYes, of course now,” said Betty, “before we get caught up. Go and fetch your coats.”
    They had a moment together, the three of them, while Belinski punctiliously sought out his hostess. Betty Cream was in the highest spirits, but Andrew and John looked rather solemn. They realized, as she did not, their guest’s importance.
    â€œI don’t know how you had the nerve,” said Andrew. “He’s one of the most distinguished men in Europe.”
    â€œHe looked so lost,” said Betty absently. “Where shall we take him?”
    â€œClaridge’s,” suggested John.
    â€œToo stuffy. Let’s go to Soho, to the Moulin Bleu.”
    â€œWe ought to go to the Club,” said Andrew. “Damn it, we ought to be giving him a Dinner!”
    â€œThe Club’s out because of Betty. I still think Claridge’s.”
    At that moment Belinski reappeared. Betty at once took him into their confidence.
    â€œWould you rather go somewhere where it’s good food but a bit like the grave, or somewhere queer but rather amusing?”
    â€œI am in your hands,” said Mr. Belinski.
    II
    They went of course to Soho; and minute by minute, all through the prolonged meal, the atmosphere grew queerer. There was no means of getting Belinski to talk, except by direct questioning; and his answers revealed a state of affairs startling in the extreme. To take his itinerary: from Bonn, where the trouble started, he had been going back to Berlin; political events, he said simply, made this unwise; so he went in the opposite direction, to Paris. There he found himself with the name of a trouble-maker: the Polish authorities discouraged his return to Warsaw, the French police took a marked interest in him. He sold a couple of jewelled Orders and came on to London, hoping to find his American publisher, who had unfortunately left a week earlier. On this publisher Belinski still pinned his hopes, for there had been some talk of his going to the States himself; apart from this he was apparently without any plan whatever. In the meantime, from day to day, he lived as in a vacuum. He had a room in Paddington, and spent most of his time in public libraries. He had made himself known to no one, and did not look to be sought out. His melancholy voice gave these facts not reluctantly, but as though they were uninteresting commonplaces which must be rather boring to hear.
    â€œBut, good God!” exclaimed John at last. “There must be people, places, simply asking for you. Cambridge, for instance, any of the universities. I mean, you’re famous. You’d be an—an ornament to them. I don’t understand.”
    â€œWell, I’ve had enough of it,” said Mr. Belinski.
    They were more surprised than ever. Their young eyes widened with astonishment as Adam Belinski addressed himself to his zabaglione. Enough of it? Enough of being a trouble-maker? Enough of being the centre of rows, secret enquiries, international complications? Such an attitude was explicable to them on only one ground, that of physical ill health. He couldn’t have recovered from his beating-up.…
    â€œYou want a good rest,” said Betty encouragingly.
    â€œI want to