Stamboul Train by Graham Greene Read Free Book Online

slowly by Isaacs in his Bentley, and they watched the girls’ faces as they walked in pairs along the lamplit eastern side, shopgirls offering themselves dangerously for a drink at the inn, a fast ride, and the fun of the thing; on the other side of the road, in the dark, on a few seats, the prostitutes sat, shapeless and shabby and old, with their backs to the sandy slopes and the thorn bushes, waiting for a man old and dumb and blind enough to offer them ten shillings. Isaacs drew up the Bentley under a lamp and they let the anonymous young beautiful animal faces stream by. Isaacs wanted someone fair and plump and Myatt someone thin and dark, but it was not easy to pick and choose, for all along the eastern side were lined the cars of their competitors, girls leaning across the open doors laughing and smoking; on the other side of the road a single two-seater kept patient watch. Myatt was irritated by Isaacs’ uncompromising taste; it was cold in the Bentley with a draught on the cheek, and presently when he saw Coral Musker walking by, he jumped from the car and offered her a cigarette and after that a drink and after that a ride. That was one advantage with these girls, Myatt thought; they all knew what a ride meant, and if they didn’t care for the look of you, they just said that they had to be going home now. But Coral Musker wanted a ride; she would take him for her companion in the dark of the car, with the lamps and the inns and the houses left behind and trees springing up like paper silhouettes in the green light of the head-lamps, and then the bushes with the scent of wet leaves holding the morning’s rain and a short barbarous enjoyment in the stubble. As for Isaacs, he must just put up with his companion, although she was dark and broad and lightly clothed, with a great nose and prominent pointed teeth. But when she was seated next to Isaacs in the front of the car she turned and gave him a long smile, saying, ‘I’ve come out without a card, but my name’s Stein.’ And then in the teeth of the wind he was climbing a great stair with silver and gilt handrails, and she stood at the top wearing a small moustache, pointing to a woman who sat sewing, sewing, sewing, and called out to him: ‘Meet Mrs Eckman.’
    Coral Musker flung her hand away from the blankets in protest, as she danced and danced and danced in the glare of the spotlight, and the producer struck at her bare legs with a cane, telling her she was no good, that she was a month late, that she’d broken her contract. And all the time she danced and danced and danced, taking no notice of him while he beat at her legs with the cane.
    Mrs Peters turned on her face and said to her husband, ‘That beer. My stomach won’t be quiet. It makes so much noise, I can’t sleep.’
    Mr Opie dreamed that in his surplice with cricket bat under his arm and batting-glove dangling from his wrist he mounted a great broad flight of marble steps towards the altar of God.
    Dr John asleep at last with a bitter tablet dissolving on his tongue spoke once in German. He had no sleeper and sat bolt upright in the corner of his compartment, hearing outside the slow singing start, ‘ Köln. Köln. Köln. ’

PART TWO

COLOGNE
    I
    â€˜But of course, dear, I don’t mind your being drunk,’ said Janet Pardoe. The clock above Cologne station struck one, and a waiter began to turn out the lights on the terrace of the Excelsior. ‘Look, dear, let me put your tie straight.’ She leant across the table and adjusted Mabel Warren’s tie.
    â€˜We’ve lived together for three years,’ Miss Warren began to say in a deep melancholy voice, ‘and I have never yet spoken to you harshly.’
    Janet Pardoe put a little scent behind her ears. ‘For heaven’s sake, darling, look at the time. The train leaves in half an hour, and I’ve got to get my bags, and you’ve got to get your