Dead Man Walking
Richard Hannay was finding life in London a little slow until a self-confessed dead man walked into his rooms.
1915
King George V 1910-1936
Richard Hannay was finding life in London a little slow until a self-confessed dead man walked into his rooms.
1915
King George V 1910-1936
It is May 1914, and Scotsman Richard Hannay has recently arrived in London from South Africa. Hannay is bored, so when a strange American calling himself Franklin P. Scudder slips past him into his flat, he looks forward to being entertained.
abridged
“IS the door locked?” he asked feverishly, and he fastened the chain with his own hand. “I’m very sorry,” he said humbly. “It’s a mighty liberty, but you looked the kind of man who would understand. I’ve had you in my mind all this week when things got troublesome. Say, will you do me a good turn?”
“I’ll listen to you,” I said. “That’s all I’ll promise.” I was getting worried by the antics of this nervous little chap.
There was a tray of drinks on a table beside him, from which he filled himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He drank it off in three gulps, and cracked the glass as he set it down. “Pardon,” he said, “I’m a bit rattled tonight. You see, I happen at this moment to be dead.”
I sat down in an armchair and lit my pipe.
“What does it feel like?” I asked.