The Journeying Boy by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

me the second?’
    ‘The second?’
    ‘Certainly. If you want to be sure it’s me, I want to be sure it’s you.’
    ‘I see.’ And Humphrey Paxton gave a quick and decisive nod. ‘Italiam fato profugus Laviniaque venit .’ He frowned. ‘Would we have time to make a short telephone call?’
    ‘Only just.’
    ‘Is there anyone in London that you know very well?’
    ‘I have a sister who lives in London.’
    They had been walking through the station, and now Humphrey halted by a telephone box. ‘Will you ring her up and say just the words I tell you?’
    Mr Thewless nodded gravely. ‘Unless they are quite unsuitable words, I have no objection at all. Come along.’ They entered the telephone box together and he produced twopence. ‘What is it that I am to say?’
    Humphrey considered. ‘What is your sister’s name, please?’
    ‘Harriet.’
    ‘Then say “Hullo, Harriet, I hoped I’d find you in” – and hand the receiver to me.’
    Mr Thewless did as he was bid. The lad, he thought, was quite unbalanced. Nevertheless, he was capable; he ought certainly to have got School Certificate long ago… He heard his sister’s voice. ‘Hullo, Harriet,’ he said, ‘I hoped I’d find you in.’ And he handed the receiver to Humphrey.
    ‘I’m so sorry.’ Humphrey’s voice was apologetic, but not exaggeratedly so. ‘Would you mind telling me who has just spoken to you?’ He listened. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Would you please hold on?’ He handed the receiver back to Mr Thewless. ‘You may care to explain,’ he said seriously. And he slipped from the telephone box.
    Mr Thewless explained – briefly, for his eye was on his watch. He set down the receiver and emerged briskly. ‘And now we run for it, Humphrey. We have ten minutes, but there’s often a queue at the Left Luggage. Porter!’ And he hurried forward. Humphrey Paxton, it was clear, fought with phantoms, and a sympathetic understanding was necessary. After all, it was only in point of their intensity that such dire imaginings as apparently beset the boy were abnormal. Only a few minutes before his own well-ordered mind had been invaded by some sensational and alarming notion – fleetingly indeed, so that he no longer remembered what it had been about… At the moment he must simply show Humphrey that the phantoms had no power over the actual world; that the holiday upon which they were embarked went smoothly forward on its predetermined way. ‘What about the tickets?’ he asked briskly.
    And Humphrey produced an envelope. ‘Everything is there, sir.’ His voice was meek and suddenly that of a much younger boy. Mr Thewless glanced at him. He was moving dreamily forward, sucking his thumb.
    They still had seven minutes when Humphrey’s suitcases had been added to those of Mr Thewless on a barrow. Their porter was moving off when he was recalled by the man at the counter. ‘Paxton, was that? There’s something else came in later.’ And he pushed forward a heavy and slender object in a canvas case.
    Humphrey’s thumb came out of his mouth; he turned and himself seized this new piece of luggage with quick curiosity. ‘It’s a gun! ’ he cried – and so loudly that people turned to stare. His eyes blazed. To be young! thought Mr Thewless. To have so swift and passionate a capacity for pleasure, for exultation! A clatter disturbed this reflection. Humphrey had flung the swathed shot-gun back on the counter. ‘I don’t want the horrible thing,’ he said. ‘Take it away. It’s not mine.’
    Mr Thewless looked at the label. ‘It’s addressed to you, Humphrey, and has been delivered here by special messenger. Your father must have meant it for a surprise.’
    ‘He wouldn’t do such a thing – unless prompted. Did you prompt him?’ And Humphrey looked at his tutor accusingly. ‘Do you think I want a horrible gun to go shooting living things with?’
    ‘I can see you don’t. And I certainly didn’t suggest a gun to your father.