A Lotus For Miss Quon Read Online Free
Author: James Hadley Chase
that made him stiffen and set his heart thumping again. Someone was knocking on the back door!
He stood motionless, scarcely breathing while he listened.
The gentle knock came again, then he heard the back door creak open.
In a surge of panic, he stepped over Haum's body and moved into the kitchen, closing the sitting-room door behind him.
Dong Ham, his cook, was standing on the top step, the back door half open and he peered cautiously into the kitchen.
The two men stared at each other.
Dong Ham appeared to be very old. His brown face was a network of wrinkles, like crushed parchment. His thin white hair grew in straggly wisps from his bony skull. Wisps of white hair sprouted from his chin. He wore a black high-collared jacket and black trousers.
Had he heard Haum's cry for help? Jaffe wondered. It was possible that he had; why else should he be standing here? He never entered the house. His place was in the cookhouse across the courtyard, and yet here he was about to walk in, and Jaffe was sure if he hadn't moved so quickly, the old man would have come into the sitting-room.
"What is it?" Jaffe asked, aware his voice sounded husky.
Dong Ham picked at a lump of hard skin on the side of his hand. His watery black eyes shifted from Jaffe to the door leading to the sittingroom.
"Haum is wanted, sir," he said. He spoke French badly and slowly. He pushed back the door and moved to one side so Jaffe had a clear view of the outer courtyard and the cookhouse.
Standing in the shade of the cookhouse building was a Vietnamese girl. She was in white and her conical straw hat hid her face. For a moment, Jaffe thought she was Nhan, and his heart gave a little lurch of surprise, then the girl looked up and he saw she was Haum's fiancée.
Jaffe had often seen this girl waiting with Asian patience for Haum to finish his work. Haum had told him he planned to marry the girl when he had finished his political studies.
Jaffe had never paid any attention to the girl. He had only been vaguely aware of her when he went out to get the car from the garage, but now, he stared at her, realizing how dangerous she could be to him.
How long had she been here? he wondered. Had she too heard Haum's cry?
The girl looked very young. She wore her hair in a ponytail that hung in a black thick rope to her tiny waist. For a Vietnamese, he thought, she was very plain and unattractive.
By the tense way she was standing and by her staring alarmed eyes, Jaffe was sure she had heard the cry, but had she recognized Haum's voice?
Jaffe suddenly became aware that both the old man and the girl were regarding him in a hostile, suspicious way, although both of them were obviously uncertain of themselves and frightened.
Jaffe said the first thing that came into his mind: "Haum has gone out. I have lent him to a friend to help with a dinner party. It's no use you waiting for him. He won't be back until late."
Dong Ham slowly backed down the three steps that led up to the kitchen. His wrinkled face was expressionless. Jaffe looked quickly at the girl. She had lowered her head. The straw hat hid her face.
He crossed to the back door and shut it gently, then very quietly he slid home the bolt. Then he stepped to the shuttered window and peered through one of the slits into the courtyard.
The old man was staring blankly at the closed door and he picked nervously at the hard skin of his hand. The girl too was staring at the door. She said something. The old man went to her with slow, shuffling steps. They began jabbering together: their voices discordant and loud in the hot silence of the courtyard.
Not a good lie, Jaffe thought uneasily, but the best he could have thought of in the circumstances. He had had to say something. It was true that from time to time he did lend Haum to one or the other of his friends who happened to be throwing a party. On these occasions Haum always wore his white drill coat and trousers. He always spent some
He stood motionless, scarcely breathing while he listened.
The gentle knock came again, then he heard the back door creak open.
In a surge of panic, he stepped over Haum's body and moved into the kitchen, closing the sitting-room door behind him.
Dong Ham, his cook, was standing on the top step, the back door half open and he peered cautiously into the kitchen.
The two men stared at each other.
Dong Ham appeared to be very old. His brown face was a network of wrinkles, like crushed parchment. His thin white hair grew in straggly wisps from his bony skull. Wisps of white hair sprouted from his chin. He wore a black high-collared jacket and black trousers.
Had he heard Haum's cry for help? Jaffe wondered. It was possible that he had; why else should he be standing here? He never entered the house. His place was in the cookhouse across the courtyard, and yet here he was about to walk in, and Jaffe was sure if he hadn't moved so quickly, the old man would have come into the sitting-room.
"What is it?" Jaffe asked, aware his voice sounded husky.
Dong Ham picked at a lump of hard skin on the side of his hand. His watery black eyes shifted from Jaffe to the door leading to the sittingroom.
"Haum is wanted, sir," he said. He spoke French badly and slowly. He pushed back the door and moved to one side so Jaffe had a clear view of the outer courtyard and the cookhouse.
Standing in the shade of the cookhouse building was a Vietnamese girl. She was in white and her conical straw hat hid her face. For a moment, Jaffe thought she was Nhan, and his heart gave a little lurch of surprise, then the girl looked up and he saw she was Haum's fiancée.
Jaffe had often seen this girl waiting with Asian patience for Haum to finish his work. Haum had told him he planned to marry the girl when he had finished his political studies.
Jaffe had never paid any attention to the girl. He had only been vaguely aware of her when he went out to get the car from the garage, but now, he stared at her, realizing how dangerous she could be to him.
How long had she been here? he wondered. Had she too heard Haum's cry?
The girl looked very young. She wore her hair in a ponytail that hung in a black thick rope to her tiny waist. For a Vietnamese, he thought, she was very plain and unattractive.
By the tense way she was standing and by her staring alarmed eyes, Jaffe was sure she had heard the cry, but had she recognized Haum's voice?
Jaffe suddenly became aware that both the old man and the girl were regarding him in a hostile, suspicious way, although both of them were obviously uncertain of themselves and frightened.
Jaffe said the first thing that came into his mind: "Haum has gone out. I have lent him to a friend to help with a dinner party. It's no use you waiting for him. He won't be back until late."
Dong Ham slowly backed down the three steps that led up to the kitchen. His wrinkled face was expressionless. Jaffe looked quickly at the girl. She had lowered her head. The straw hat hid her face.
He crossed to the back door and shut it gently, then very quietly he slid home the bolt. Then he stepped to the shuttered window and peered through one of the slits into the courtyard.
The old man was staring blankly at the closed door and he picked nervously at the hard skin of his hand. The girl too was staring at the door. She said something. The old man went to her with slow, shuffling steps. They began jabbering together: their voices discordant and loud in the hot silence of the courtyard.
Not a good lie, Jaffe thought uneasily, but the best he could have thought of in the circumstances. He had had to say something. It was true that from time to time he did lend Haum to one or the other of his friends who happened to be throwing a party. On these occasions Haum always wore his white drill coat and trousers. He always spent some
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