Βιβλία σαν το «The Spy Who Came in from the Cold»

ONEThe bodies were discovered at eight forty-five on the morning of Wednesday 18 September by Miss Emily Wharton, a sixty-five-year-old spinster of the parish of St. Matthew’s in Paddington, London, and Darren Wilkes, aged ten, of no particular parish as far as he knew or cared. This unlikely pair of companions had left Miss Wharton’s flat in Crowhurst Gardens just before half past eight to walk the half-mile stretch of the Grand Union Canal to St. Matthew’s Church.

I needed for the imaginary version of my world to be darker than my real world. Otherwise, I would have wanted to leave them both.

Όμως, είμαι τυχερή που έχω ακόμη κι αυτή τη θέση. Σε κανέναν δεν αρέσουν οι εργαζόμενοι που έχουν περάσει από ανάκριση, έστω κι αν ο ανακριτής με απάλλαξε από κάθε κατηγορία! Μάλιστα, την είχε συγχαρεί για την ετοιμότητα πνεύματος και το κουράγιο που επέδειξε. Για ανάκριση, δε θα μπορούσε να πάει καλύτερα. Και η κυρία Χάμιλτον ήταν η προσωποποίηση της καλοσύνης απέναντί της. Μόνο ο Χιούγκο… όμως όχι… δε θα σκεφτόταν τον Χιούγκο! Ξαφνικά, παρά τη ζέστη μέσα στο βαγόνι, τη διαπέρασε ρίγος. Ευχήθηκε να μην πήγαινε στη θάλασσα. Μια εικόνα εμφανίστηκε καθαρά στον νου της: Το κεφάλι του Σίριλ να ανεβοκατεβαίνει, να κολυμπά προς τον βράχο… Πάνω κάτω, πάνω κάτω… Κι εκείνη να κολυμπά με άνετες απλωτές πίσω του… να σκίζει τη θάλασσα, ξέροντας όμως με απόλυτη βεβαιότητα ότι δε θα προλάβαινε…

DOES SUCH a thing as “the fatal flaw,” that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn’t. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

What I saw was the Count’s head coming out from the window. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had so many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes.

The oth­ers went up­stairs, a slow unwilling pro­ces­sion. If this had been an old house, with creak­ing wood, and dark shad­ows, and heav­ily pan­elled walls, there might have been an eerie feel­ing. But this house was the essence of moder­ni­ty. There were no dark corners - ​no pos­si­ble slid­ing pan­els - it was flood­ed with elec­tric light - every­thing was new and bright and shining. There was noth­ing hid­den in this house, noth­ing con­cealed. It had no at­mo­sphere about it. Some­how, that was the most fright­en­ing thing of all. They ex­changed good-​nights on the up­per land­ing. Each of them went in­to his or her own room, and each of them automatical­ly, al­most with­out con­scious thought, locked the door....