Ночь нежна

Chapter 17

           ItcamefromMr.McKibbenintwowords.

           "Theyescaped."

           "HaveyoubeenprisonersinRussia?"

           "ItwasI,"explainedPrinceChillicheff,hisdeadyelloweyesstaringatDick."Notaprisonerbutinhiding."

           "Didyouhavemuchtroublegettingout?"

           "Sometrouble.WeleftthreeRedGuardsdeadattheborder.Tommylefttwo"HehelduptwofingerslikeaFrenchman"Ileftone."

           "That’sthepartIdon’tunderstand,"saidMr.McKibben."Whytheyshouldhaveobjectedtoyourleaving."

           Hannanturnedfromthepianoandsaid,winkingattheothers:"MacthinksaMarxianissomebodywhowenttoSt.Mark’sschool."

           Itwasanescapestoryinthebesttraditionanaristocrathidingnineyearswithaformerservantandworkinginagovernmentbakery;theeighteen-year-olddaughterinPariswhoknewTommyBarban....DuringthenarrativeDickdecidedthatthisparchedpapiermâchérelicofthepastwasscarcelyworththelivesofthreeyoungmen.ThequestionaroseastowhetherTommyandChillicheffhadbeenfrightened.

           "WhenIwascold,"Tommysaid."IalwaysgetscaredwhenI’mcold.DuringthewarIwasalwaysfrightenedwhenIwascold."

           McKibbenstoodup.

           "Imustleave.To-morrowmorningI’mgoingtoInnsbruckbycarwithmywifeandchildrenandthegoverness."

           "I’mgoingthereto-morrow,too,"saidDick.

           "Oh,areyou?"exclaimedMcKibben.

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