if.themanwiththegoldengun-第18部分

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g　with　that？　And　what　do　you　mean　ing　busting　into　my　room　in　the　middle　of　the　night　waving　a　gun　about？　And　kindly　keep　your　foul　tongue　to　yourself。〃
　Bond　was　pleased　with　his　bluster　and　decided　to　take　the　next　step　towards　Mary　Goodnight's　freedom。　He　dropped　his　hands　to　his　sides　and　turned　to　the　girl。　〃Put　your　hands　down；　Mary。　Mr。　Scaramanga　must　have　thought　there　were　burglars　about　when　he　heard　that　window　bang。　Now；　I'll　get　some　clothes　on　and　take　you　out　to　your　car。　You've　got　a　long　drive　back　to　Kingston。　Are　you　sure　you　wouldn't　rather　stay　here　for　the　rest　of　the　night？　I'm　sure　Mr。　Scaramanga　could　find　us　a　spare　room。〃　He　turned　back　to　Mr。　Scaramanga。　〃It's　all　right；　Mr。　Scaramanga；　I'll　pay　for　it。〃
　Mary　Goodnight　chipped　in。　She　had　dropped　her　hands。　She　picked　up　her　small　bag　from　the　bed　where　she　had　thrown　it；　opened　it　and　began　busying　herself　with　her　hair　in　a　fussy；　feminine　way。　She　chattered；　falling　in　well　with　Bond's　bland　piece　of　very　British　〃Now…look…here…my…man…manship。〃
　〃No；　honestly；　darling；　I　really　think　I'd　better　go。　I'd　be　in　terrible　trouble　if　I　was　late　at　the　office；　and　the　Prime　Minister；　Sir　Alexander　Bustamante；　you　know　will　have　his　eightieth　birthday；　well　he's　ing　to　lunch；　and　you　know　His　Excellency　always　likes　me　to　do　the　flowers　and　arrange　the　place　cards　and　as　a　matter　of　fact〃…she　turned　charmingly　towards　Mr。　Scaramanga…〃it's　quite　a　day　for　me。　The　party　was　going　to　make　up　thirteen；　so　His　Excellency　has　asked　me　to　be　the　fourteenth。　Isn't　that　marvellous？　But　heaven　knows　what　I'm　going　to　look　like　after　tonight。　The　roads　really　are　terrible　in　parts；　aren't　they；　Mr。…er…Scramble。　But　there　it　is。　And　I　do　apologize　for　causing　all　this　disturbance　and　keeping　you　from　your　beauty　sleep。〃
　She　went　towards　him　like　the　Queen　Mother　opening　a　bazaar；　her　hand　outstretched。　〃Now　you　run　along　off　back　to　bed　again；　and　my　fiance〃　（Thank　God　she　hadn't　said　James！　The　girl　was　inspired！）　〃will　see　me　safely　off　the　premises。　Goodbye；　Mr。；　er。　。　。　。〃
　James　Bond　was　proud　of　her。　It　was　almost　pure　Joyce　Grenfell。　But　Scaramanga　wasn't　going　to　be　taken　in　by　any　doubletalk；　limey　or　otherwise。　She　almost　had　Bond　covered　from　Scaramanga。　He　moved　swiftly　aside。　He　said；　〃Hold　it；　lady。　And　you；　mister；　stand　where　you　are。〃　Mary　Goodnight　let　her　hand　drop　to　her　side。　She　looked　inquiringly　at　Scaramanga　as　if　he　had　just　rejected　the　cucumber　sandwiches。　Really！　These　Americans！　The　Golden　Gun　didn't　go　for　polite　conversation。　It　held　dead　steady　between　the　two　of　them。　Scaramanga　said　to　Bond；　〃Okay；　I'll　buy　it。　Put　her　through　the　window　again。　Then　I've　got　something　to　say　to　you。〃　He　waved　his　gun　at　the　girl。　〃Okay；　bimbo。　Get　going。　And　don't　e　trespassing　on　other　people's　lands　again。　Right？　And　you　can　tell　His　friggin'　Excellency　where　to　shove　his　place　cards。　His　writ　don't　run　over　the　Thunderbird。　Mine　does。　Got　the　picture？　Okay。　Don't　bust　your　stays　getting　through　the　window。〃
　Mary　Goodnight　said　icily；　〃Very　good；　Mr。　。　。　。　er　。。。　I　will　deliver　your　message。　I'm　sure　the　High　missioner　will　take　more　careful　note　than　he　has　done　of　your　presence　on　the　island。　And　the　Jamaican　government　also。〃
　Bond　reached　out　and　took　her　arm。　She　was　on　the　edge　of　overplaying　her　role。　He　said；　〃e　on；　Mary。　And　please　tell　Mother　that　I'll　be　through　here　in　a　day　or　two；　and　I'll　be　telephoning　her　from　Kingston。〃　He　led　her　to　the　window　and　helped；　or　rather　bundled　her；　out。　She　gave　a　brief　wave　and　ran　off　across　the　lawn。　Bond　came　away　from　the　window　with　considerable　relief。　He　hadn't　expected　the　ghastly　mess　to　sort　itself　out　so　painlessly。
　He　went　and　sat　down　on　his　bed。　He　sat　on　the　pillow。　He　was　reassured　to　feel　the　hard　shape　of　his　gun　against　his　thighs。　He　looked　across　at　Scaramanga。　The　man　had　put　his　gun　back　in　his　shoulder　holster。　He　leant　up　against　the　clothes　cupboard　and　ran　his　finger　reflectively　along　the　black　line　of　his　moustache。　He　said；　〃High　missioner's　Office。　That　also　houses　the　local　representative　of　your　famous　Secret　Service。　I　suppose；　Mister　Hazard；　that　your　real　name　wouldn't　be　James　Bond？　You　showed　quite　a　turn　of　speed　with　the　gun　tonight。　I　seem　to　have　read　somewhere　that　this　man　Bond　fancies　himself　with　the　hardware。　I　also　have　information　to　the　effect　that　he's　somewhere　in　the　Caribbean　and　that　he's　looking　for　me。　Funny　coincidence　department；　eh？〃
　Bond　laughed　easily。　〃I　thought　the　Secret　Service　packed　up　at　the　end　of　the　war。　Anyway；　I'm　afraid　I　can't　change　my　identity　to　suit　your　book　All　you've　got　to　do　in　the　morning　is　ring　up　Frome　and　ask　for　Mr。　Tony　Hugill；　the　boss　up　there；　and　check　on　my　story。　And　can　you　explain　how　this　Bond　chap　could　possible　have　tracked　you　down　to　a　brothel　in　Sav'　La　Mar？　And　what　does　he　want　from　you　anyway？〃
　Scaramanga　contemplated　him　silently　for　a　while。　Then　he　said；　〃Guess　he　may　be　lookin'　for　a　shootin'　lesson。　Be　glad　to　oblige　him。　But　you've　got　something　about　Number　Three　and　one…half。　That's　what　I　figgered　when　I　hired　you。　But　coincidence　doesn't　e　in　that　size。　Mebbe　I　should　have　thought　again。　I　said　from　the　first　I　smelled　cops。　That　girl　may　be　your　fiancee　or　she　may　not…but　that　play　with　the　shower　bath。　That's　an　old　hood's　trick。　Probably　a　Secret　Service　one　too。　Unless；　that　is；　you　were　screwin'　her。〃　He　raised　one　eyebrow。
　〃I　was。　Anything　wrong　with　that？　What　have　you　been　doing　with　the　Chinese　girl？　Playing　mah…jongg？〃　Bond　got　to　his　feet。　He　stitched　impatience　and　outrage　on　his　face　in　equal　quantities。　〃Now　look　here；　Mr。　Scaramanga。　I've　had　just　about　enough　of　this。　Just　stop　leaning　on　me。　You　go　around　waving　that　damned　gun　of　yours　and　acting　like　God　Almighty　and　insinuating　a　lot　of　tommyrot　about　the　Secret　Service；　and　you　expect　me　to　kneel　down　and　lick　your　boots。　Well；　my　friend；　you've　e　to　the　wrong　address。　If　you're　dissatisfied　with　the　job　I'm　doing；　just　hand　over　the　thousand　dollars　and　I'll　be　on　my　way。〃
　Scaramanga　smiled　his　thin；　cruel　smile。　〃You　may　be　getting　wise　to　that　sooner　than　you　think；　shamus。〃　He　shrugged。　〃Okay；　okay。　But　just　you　remember　this；　mister。　If　it　turns　out　you're　not　who　you　say　you　are；　I'll　blow　you　to　bits。　Get　me？　And　I'll　start　with　the　little　bits　and　go　onto　the　bigger　ones。　Just　so　it　lasts　a　heck　of　a　long　tune。　Right？　Now　you'd　better　get　some　shuteye。　I've　got　a　meeting　with　Mr。　Hendriks　at　ten　in　the　conference　room。　And　I　don't　want　to　be　disturbed。　After　that　the　whole　party　goes　on　an　excursion　on　the　railroad　I　was　tellin'　you　about。　It'll　be　your　job　to　see　that　that　gets　properly　organized。　Talk　to　the　manager　first　thing。　Right？　Okay；　then。　Be　seeing　ya。〃　Scaramanga　walked　into　the　clothes　cupboard；　brushed　Bond's　suit　aside；　and　disappeared。　There　came　a　decisive　click　from　the　next　room。　Bond　got　to　his　feet。　He　said　〃phew！〃　at　the　top　of　his　voice　and　walked　off　into　the　bathroom　to　wash　the　last　two　hours　away　in　the　shower。
　He　awoke　at　6：30；　by　arrangement　with　that　curious　extrasensory　alarm　clock　that　some　people　keep　in　their　heads　that　always　seems　to　know　the　exact　time。　He　put　on　his　bathing　trunks　and　went　out　to　the　beach　and　did　his　long　swim　again。　When　at　7：15　he　saw　Scaramanga　e　out　of　the　west　whig；　followed　by　the　boy　carrying　his　towel；　he　made　for　the　shore。　He　listened　for　the　twanging　thump　of　the　trampoline　and　then；　keeping　well　out　of　sight　of　it；　entered　the　hotel　by　the　main　entrance；　and　moved　quickly　down　the　corridor　to　his　room。　He　listened　at　his　window　to　make　sure　the　man　was　still　exercising；　then　he　took　the　master　key　Nick　Nicholson　had　given　him　and　slipped　across　the　corridor　to　Number　20　and　was　quickly　inside。　He　left　the　door　on　the　latch。　Yes；　there　was　his　target；　lying　on　the　dressing　table。　He　strode　across　the　room；　picked　up　the　gun；　and　slipped　out　the　round　in　the　cylinder　that　would　next　e　up　for　firing。　He　put　the　gun　down　exactly　as　he　had　found　it；　got　back　to　the　door；　listened；　and　then　was　out　and　across　the　corridor　and　into　his　own　room。　He　went　back　to　the　window　and　listened。　Yes。　Scaramanga　was　still　at　it。　It　was　an　amateurish　ploy　that　Bond　had　executed；　but　it　might　gain　him　just　that　fraction　of　a　second　that…he　felt　it　in　his　bones…was　going　to　be　life　or　death　for　him　in　the　next　twenty…four　hours。　In　his　mind；　he　smelled　that　slight　whiff　of　smoke　that　indicated　that　his　cover　was　smouldering　at　the　edges。　At　any　moment　Mark　Hazard　of　the　Transworld　Consortium　might　go　up　in　flames；　like　some　clumsy　effigy　on　Guy　Fawkes　Night；　and　James　Bond　would　stand　there；　revealed；　with　nothing　between　him　and　a　possible　force　of　six　other　gunmen　but　his　own　quick　hand　and　the　Walther　PPK。　So　every　shade　of　odds　that　he　could　shift　to　his　side　of　the　board　would　be　worthwhile。　Undismayed　by　the　prospect；　in　fact　rather　excited　by　it；　he　ordered　a　large　breakfast；　consumed　it　with　relish；　and　after　pulling　the　connecting　pin　out　of　the　ballcock　in　his　lavatory；　went　along　to　the　manager's　office。
　Felix　Leiter　was　on　duty。　He　gave　a　thin　managerial　smile　and　said；　〃Good　morning；　Mr。　Hazard。　Can　I　help　you？〃　Leiter's　eyes　were　looking　beyond　Bond；　over　his　right　shoulder。　Mr。　Hendriks　materialized　at　the　desk　before　Bond　could　answer。
　Bond　said；　〃Good　morning。〃
　Mr。　Hendriks　replied　with　his　little　Germanic　bow。　He　said　to　Leiter；　〃The　telephone　operator　is　saying　that　there　is　a　long…distance　call　from　my　office　in　Havana。　Where　is　the　most　private　place　to　take　it；　pliss？〃
　〃Not　in　your　bedroom；　sir？〃
　〃Is　not　sufficiently　private。〃
　Bond　guessed　that　he　too　had　bowled　out　the　microphone。
　Leiter　looked　helpful。　He　came　out　from　behind　his　desk。　〃Just　over　here；　sir。　The　lobby　telephone。　The　box　is　soundproof。〃
　Mr。　Hendriks　looked　stonily　at　him。　〃And　the　machine。　That　also　is　soundproof？〃
　Leiter　looked　politely　puzzled。　〃I'm　afraid　I　don't　understand；　sir。　It　is　connected　directly　with　the　operator。〃
　〃Is　no　matter。　Show　me；　pliss。〃　Mr。　Hendriks　followed　Leiter　to　the　far　corner　of　the　lobby　and　was　shown　into　the　booth。　He　carefully　closed　the　leather…padded　door　and　picked　up　the　receiver　an