The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie (dar e dil novel online reading .txt) 📕

heavily that night on my hard bunk, struggling with ill-defined, menacing dreams. I awoke with a headache and went out on the observation platform of the car. It was fresh and lovely, and everywhere, as far as one could see, were the undulating wooded hills. I loved it⁠—loved it more than any place I had ever seen. I wished then that I could have a little hut somewhere in the heart of the scrub and live there always⁠—always.⁠ ⁠…

Just before half-past two, Colonel Race called me out from the “office” and pointed to a bouquet-shaped white mist that hovered over one portion of the bush.

“The spray from the falls,” he said. “We are nearly there.”

I was still wrapped in that strange dream feeling of exaltation that had succeeded my troubled night. Very strongly implanted in me was the feeling that I had come home.⁠ ⁠… Home! And yet I had never been here before⁠—or had I in dreams?

We walked from the train to the hotel, a big white building closely wired against mosquitoes. There were no roads, no houses. We went out on the stoep and I uttered a gasp. There, half a mile away, facing us, were the falls. I’ve never seen anything so grand and beautiful⁠—I never shall.

“Anne, you’re fey,” said Suzanne, as we sat down to lunch. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

She stared at me curiously.

“Am I?” I laughed, but I felt that my laugh was unnatural. “It’s just that I love it all.”

“It’s more than that.”

A little frown creased her brow⁠—one of apprehension.

Yes, I was happy, but beyond that I had the curious feeling that I was waiting for something⁠—something that would happen soon. I was excited⁠—restless.

After tea we strolled out, got on the trolley and were pushed by smiling blacks down the little tracks of rails to the bridge.

It was a marvellous sight, the great chasm and the rushing waters below, and the veil of mist and spray in front of us that parted every now and then for one brief minute to show the cataract of water and then closed up again in its impenetrable mystery. That, to my mind, has always been the fascination of the falls⁠—their elusive quality. You always think you’re going to see⁠—and you never do.

We crossed the bridge and walked slowly on by the path that was marked out with white stone on either side and led round the brink of the gorge. Finally we arrived in a big clearing where on the left a path led downwards towards the chasm.

“The palm gully,” explained Colonel Race. “Shall we go down? Or shall we leave it until tomorrow? It will take some time, and it’s a good climb up again.”

“We’ll leave it until tomorrow,” said Sir Eustace with decision. He isn’t at all fond of strenuous physical exercise, I have noticed.

He led the way back. As we went, we passed a fine native stalking along. Behind him came a woman who seemed to have the entire household belongings piled upon her head! The collection included a frying pan!

“I never have my camera when I want it,” groaned Suzanne.

“That’s an opportunity that will occur often enough, Mrs. Blair,” said Colonel Race. “So don’t lament.”

We arrived back on the bridge.

“Shall we go into the rainbow forest?” he continued. “Or are you afraid of getting wet?”

Suzanne and I accompanied him. Sir Eustace went back to the hotel. I was rather disappointed in the rainbow forest. There weren’t nearly enough rainbows, and we got soaked to the skin, but every now and then we got a glimpse of the falls opposite and realized how enormously wide they are. Oh, dear, dear Falls, how I love and worship you and always shall!

We got back to the hotel just in time to change for dinner. Sir Eustace seems to have taken a positive antipathy to Colonel Race. Suzanne and I rallied him gently, but didn’t get much satisfaction.

After dinner, he retired to his sitting room, dragging Miss Pettigrew with him. Suzanne and I talked for a while with Colonel Race, and then she declared, with an immense yawn, that she was going to bed. I didn’t want to be left alone with him, so I got up too and went to my room.

But I was far too excited to go to sleep. I did not even undress. I lay back in a chair and gave myself up to dreaming. And all the time I was conscious of something coming nearer and nearer.⁠ ⁠…

There was a knock at the door and I started. I got up and went to it. A little black boy held out a note. It was addressed to me in a handwriting I did not know. I took it and came back into the room. I stood there holding it. At last I opened it. It was very short:

“I must see you. I dare not come to the hotel. Will you come to the clearing by the palm gully? In memory of cabin 17 please come. The man you knew as Harry Rayburn.”

My heart beat to suffocation. He was here then! Oh, I had known it⁠—I had known it all along! I had felt him near me. All unwittingly I had come to his place of retreat.

I wound a scarf round my head and stole to the door. I must be careful. He was hunted down. No one must see me meet him. I stole along to Suzanne’s room. She was fast asleep. I could hear her breathing evenly.

Sir Eustace? I paused outside the door of his sitting room. Yes, he was dictating to Miss Pettigrew, I could hear her monotonous voice repeating. “I therefore venture to suggest, that in tackling this problem of coloured labour⁠ ⁠…” She paused for him to continue, and I heard him grunt something angrily.

I stole on again. Colonel Race’s room was empty. I did not see him in the lounge. And he was the man I feared most! Still, I could waste no more time. I slipped quickly