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."He was just like any other patient; but I've always got on well with mypatients." She stated it as a matter of professional pride warmed by humansatisfaction."You can't do them much good if you don't get on with them.Iwasn't like a servant, of course we played cribbage and watched televisiontogether, and every-thing like that.But there was nothing romantic about it.""Then the will was as much a surprise to you as to anyone?""You could 've knocked me down with a feather."Simon scribbled solemnly on the back of an envelope, like a stage reporter,recording the brilliant cliche for quotation, in case he forgot it.He changed the subject for a moment:"What exactly did Mr Cardman die of?""Acute gastro-enteritis.He'd suffered a lot with it, off and on, ever sincehe got that intestinal virus that had me brought in.""There wasn't anything the doctor could do?""He had prescriptions.But I suppose his insides were damaged more than theycould repair, at his age.And he was always trying out diets on his own, ordosing himself with medicines and health syrups that he saw advertised.Ithink they did him more harm than good.I used to get quite cross with MrPage 61 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlOtterly for encour-aging him."The Saint was briefly puzzled."Mr Otterly?""His nephew.""Oh, yes.There's a niece, too, isn't there?""Miss Winchester.A pretty girl, and I think she was Mr Cardman's favorite.But Mr Otterly was naughty, always encouraging him by sending him things fromNew York seaweed pills and grass powder and I don't know what else.Justtrying to make up to his uncle, I know, but it was no help.""You were always on good terms with both of them I mean, the nephew andniece?""I thought so.""So you thought they'd be understanding about being sort of disinherited inyour favor?"This time perhaps he was not quite subtle enough, for he struck a spark fromher deep-set black eyes before the plump wrinkles creased around them again."I did feel badly at first," she said."Until Mr Otterly turned rathernasty have you seen him?""No.""Well, he said some very nasty things, about me taking ad-vantage of hisuncle.So then I stopped feeling sorry for him.I thought, if he's going to bea bad sport, because he didn't man-age to cut out his cousin with those pillsand things that he kept working on Mr Cardman with, then why should I get in afamily battle? I thought, Mr Cardman made up his own mind, and if this is whathe wanted I've got a right to take it, and bless him.""Do you have a picture of him?"Mrs Yanstead looked around vaguely.There were a few framed photographs onwalls and ledges; but the Saint's sur-reptitiously wandering glances hadidentified most of them as plates from a sentimental biography of a woman whocould only have been Mr Cardman's mother, a recurrent face from an oldmisty-edged sepia vignette of a demure young girl to a mod-ernskilfully-retouched portrait of a prim old matriarch.Mr Cardman's inclusionin a group with his sisters, gathered around her in their self-consciouslyangelic adolescence, was not what Simon had in mind; but Mrs Yanstead'sobliging exploration discovered a very contemporary snapshot tucked into onecorner of phonus-period velvet frame."He never was one to have his picture taken," she said, "but this is one thatMiss Winchester took right after she came down this season."It was the typical box-camera enlargement, obviously taken against one side ofthe house, with Mrs Yanstead and Mr Cardman standing awkwardly side by side(but at a discreet distance) and both looking straight into the lens andgrinning in the point-less mechanical way beloved of the amateur artists whoare the bread and butter of the photographic-supply industry; but partly onthat account it had the virtue of presenting a facial facsimile that wasrecognizable in the same brutal way that a passport photo or a prison mug shotmay be recognizable.It showed Mr Cardman with a predatory nose but a weakchin, a cocky but frail figure beside the foster-mother of his senility, whoseemed to make an earthily honest effort to hold back and avoid eclipsing himwith her superior bulk and vitality."May I borrow this?" Simon asked."It won't be damaged, and I'll send it backin a day or two.""I suppose so.""One other thing," he said as he was leaving: "where can I find Mr Otterly?""He went to the Tradewind that's the first motel you come to down the road.Iexpect he'll have plenty to say about me." She pursed her lips, then shruggedand smiled again."Well, I don't live in a glass house, so I shouldn't worryabout who throws stones."Simon drove on to the motel, and after inquiring at the office he was directedto the Terrace Snack Bar, which was beside the swimming pool, which hadconsiderately been provided for the indulgence of guests who either found aPage 62 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhundred-yard walk to the beach too fatiguing or were appalled by the potentialperils of the rippling ocean [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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."He was just like any other patient; but I've always got on well with mypatients." She stated it as a matter of professional pride warmed by humansatisfaction."You can't do them much good if you don't get on with them.Iwasn't like a servant, of course we played cribbage and watched televisiontogether, and every-thing like that.But there was nothing romantic about it.""Then the will was as much a surprise to you as to anyone?""You could 've knocked me down with a feather."Simon scribbled solemnly on the back of an envelope, like a stage reporter,recording the brilliant cliche for quotation, in case he forgot it.He changed the subject for a moment:"What exactly did Mr Cardman die of?""Acute gastro-enteritis.He'd suffered a lot with it, off and on, ever sincehe got that intestinal virus that had me brought in.""There wasn't anything the doctor could do?""He had prescriptions.But I suppose his insides were damaged more than theycould repair, at his age.And he was always trying out diets on his own, ordosing himself with medicines and health syrups that he saw advertised.Ithink they did him more harm than good.I used to get quite cross with MrPage 61 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlOtterly for encour-aging him."The Saint was briefly puzzled."Mr Otterly?""His nephew.""Oh, yes.There's a niece, too, isn't there?""Miss Winchester.A pretty girl, and I think she was Mr Cardman's favorite.But Mr Otterly was naughty, always encouraging him by sending him things fromNew York seaweed pills and grass powder and I don't know what else.Justtrying to make up to his uncle, I know, but it was no help.""You were always on good terms with both of them I mean, the nephew andniece?""I thought so.""So you thought they'd be understanding about being sort of disinherited inyour favor?"This time perhaps he was not quite subtle enough, for he struck a spark fromher deep-set black eyes before the plump wrinkles creased around them again."I did feel badly at first," she said."Until Mr Otterly turned rathernasty have you seen him?""No.""Well, he said some very nasty things, about me taking ad-vantage of hisuncle.So then I stopped feeling sorry for him.I thought, if he's going to bea bad sport, because he didn't man-age to cut out his cousin with those pillsand things that he kept working on Mr Cardman with, then why should I get in afamily battle? I thought, Mr Cardman made up his own mind, and if this is whathe wanted I've got a right to take it, and bless him.""Do you have a picture of him?"Mrs Yanstead looked around vaguely.There were a few framed photographs onwalls and ledges; but the Saint's sur-reptitiously wandering glances hadidentified most of them as plates from a sentimental biography of a woman whocould only have been Mr Cardman's mother, a recurrent face from an oldmisty-edged sepia vignette of a demure young girl to a mod-ernskilfully-retouched portrait of a prim old matriarch.Mr Cardman's inclusionin a group with his sisters, gathered around her in their self-consciouslyangelic adolescence, was not what Simon had in mind; but Mrs Yanstead'sobliging exploration discovered a very contemporary snapshot tucked into onecorner of phonus-period velvet frame."He never was one to have his picture taken," she said, "but this is one thatMiss Winchester took right after she came down this season."It was the typical box-camera enlargement, obviously taken against one side ofthe house, with Mrs Yanstead and Mr Cardman standing awkwardly side by side(but at a discreet distance) and both looking straight into the lens andgrinning in the point-less mechanical way beloved of the amateur artists whoare the bread and butter of the photographic-supply industry; but partly onthat account it had the virtue of presenting a facial facsimile that wasrecognizable in the same brutal way that a passport photo or a prison mug shotmay be recognizable.It showed Mr Cardman with a predatory nose but a weakchin, a cocky but frail figure beside the foster-mother of his senility, whoseemed to make an earthily honest effort to hold back and avoid eclipsing himwith her superior bulk and vitality."May I borrow this?" Simon asked."It won't be damaged, and I'll send it backin a day or two.""I suppose so.""One other thing," he said as he was leaving: "where can I find Mr Otterly?""He went to the Tradewind that's the first motel you come to down the road.Iexpect he'll have plenty to say about me." She pursed her lips, then shruggedand smiled again."Well, I don't live in a glass house, so I shouldn't worryabout who throws stones."Simon drove on to the motel, and after inquiring at the office he was directedto the Terrace Snack Bar, which was beside the swimming pool, which hadconsiderately been provided for the indulgence of guests who either found aPage 62 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhundred-yard walk to the beach too fatiguing or were appalled by the potentialperils of the rippling ocean [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]