The Island Where Time Stands Still by Dennis Wheatley Read Free Book Online Page A

careless, and that if he continued along the main avenue he was much more likely to meet people who were still about; so he turned off down the lane from which the rickshaw had emerged. Soon he came upon another house, set well back in its own grounds; then the lane continued on for some distance at a gentle incline through a grove of palms, to emerge half a mile lower down the valley on the shore of one of the lakes. At that point the lake narrowed in a wasp-waist and was spanned by a graceful bridge which rose above it almost in a semi-circle. It was as Gregory paused for a moment on the summit of the arch that he first saw through the trees on the opposite shore a house with a light shining from it.
    As he descended the curve of the bridge he was suddenly tempted by the sight of the light, to get a glimpse of the room from which it came. No walls or fences enclosed the grounds in which any of the houses stood, so he had only to turn off the track and walk through the garden. Taking advantage of the groups of shrubs for cover he moved silently forward until he could get a full view of the building.It had an upper gallery and a double-tiered pagoda roof, the lower projecting over a veranda which was approached by a flight of shallow steps flanked by two stone dragons. The light came from a pair of french windows covered with delicate lattice-work, and a wire gauze screen against insects.
    From where Gregory was standing he could make out little of the interior of the room, but he hesitated to go nearer, as the moon was now well up and its light so strong that had he advanced into the open anyone looking out would have been certain to see him. While pondering the matter he noticed a little way off an ornamental tree with low twisted branches, and it struck him that by climbing up into them he would get a better view. In one swift dart he covered the few yards to it, then scaled the gnarled trunk and perched himself in its fork.
    Now, although the lattice-work still make it impossible to get a clear view of the room, he could form a fair impression of it, and its furnishings seemed a queer mixture of East and West. To one side there was a large lacquer cabinet on which sat a gilded Buddha, the far wall was almost hidden by shelves of books, in a corner stood a large radiogram, and in the foreground a woman lay reading on a Chinese day-bed under a hideous but efficient chromium electric light standard. He could not tell if the woman was old or young; only that she had thick black hair and was wearing a pale-coloured wrap which left exposed her small bare feet.
    He had been looking at the woman for some moments when he suddenly became aware that he was not the only person watching her. Up on the veranda there had been a movement in the deep shadow cast by the overhanging roof. Straining his eyes, Gregory made out a crouching figure about ten feet from the french windows. Stealthily the figure moved again, halving the distance and now becoming clearly revealed in the soft glow radiating through the lattice-work. It was that of a man, and he was obviously up to no good.
    Gregory wondered what he ought to do. To intervene would mean disclosing his own presence, and, while he had committed no crime, he did not want to have to admit that he had been snooping. It occurred to him that he could give a loud shout which would probably scare the man into running away—and would anyhow put the woman on her guard—then bolt for it himself. But such a course was all against his instincts. Besides, there was always the possibility that the man was the woman’s lover. Perhaps she had been waiting up for him, and he was approaching her room so stealthily only to preserve their secret. Should that be so Gregory was the last person to wish to spoil their fun, and perhaps bring tragedy upon them.
    He was still debating the matter with himself, when the man acted. Springing up, he tore open the gauze-covered doorway and rushed into the