Read A Question Of Honour: A Harry Royle Thriller for Free Online

sooner watch a picture than read about one myself."
    Harry sat forward a little and leaned toward the man, before speaking again.
    "I thought The Thirty-Nine Steps was a great picture."
    "Same here, the other half preferred the one with the ghost following his old castle over to America, but I thought it was a bit daft. How about you?"
    Harry shook his head.
    "Don't know that one, but he's good, so Lead on Macduff."
    The cabby nearly missed the traffic light's signal to stop. A screech of brakes and the taxi came to an abrupt halt, sending Harry forward, just missing the back of the drivers head and using the man's seat back to come to a stop. The driver turned around and smiled.
    "Sorry about that, you put me off. It's not lead on Macduff, it's lay on Macduff, most people make that mistake."
    "Well, I'm glad we got that cleared up."
    The cabby smiled and his old blue eyes twinkled in their setting of silver eyebrows.
    "A great many things I'm ignorant about, but I do like Shakespeare. I know people think it's odd for a working man, you know ideas above me station and all that malarkey. Well, I went to a play when I was just a nipper and loved it, ever since, I like to read his works, and the more I read, the more I see of life in them. To you a quote is just that, but by misquoting, you get the meaning changed around, whoops."
    The cabby moved the taxi away from the oncoming vehicles and back into the traffic stream once more. He resumed his good humoured argument.
    "Take what you just said. You meant for me to take you to the Regal, lead on and all that. Lay on means to fight. So now you see what irks me. It's like that other big one. Now is the winter of our discontent, you know that one?"
    Harry nodded wordlessly.
    "People say that when they're talking about bad times, even newspaper men say it all the time. But the quote is about good times. Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this son of York. Big difference, wouldn't you say?"
    "Yes, you've got a point."
    "And another great one, a big, oh forget it, friend, we're here."
    Royle paid the cheerful cabby and headed toward the cinema. The girl with the painted smile and constant yawning mouth mechanically told him that the show had started, but that he hadn't missed the main feature. He smiled a smile as polite as she deserved, paid and made his way inside.
    There were a good few people milling around in the foyer and Harry noticed a cigarette girl arranging her tray in the upper left corner. Not only was the girl happy to oblige with a packet of Woodbines, but also with the flash of a smile. This one didn't stop at the teeth, as the ticket girl, but was an honest I like you kind of smile. Harry swept his hat off in a gesture of salutation and the girl giggled. Reaching over, she gently touched his sleeve.
    "And that's before the picture."
    He returned the big smile.
    "Is it any good?"
    She held his gaze and he continued.
    "The picture I mean".
    She blushed.
    "If you liked Thirty-Nine Steps, then yes, it's a spy one. I liked it."
    He nodded and smiled.
    "Liked it, what made you stop?"
    She grinned.
    "Seeing it twenty-seven times has spoilt the surprise, but you'll like it."
    Harry raised an eyebrow.
    "Yes, you can walk me home after, but remember the hat business and behave yourself."
    Harry Royle put his brown trilby against his chest and gave a deep bow. Turning on his heel, he walked in through the open door beyond. Having had his ticket checked, he stood for a moment, once inside the door he allowed his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light. The bright projector lamp flickered and caught the plumes of cigarette smoke, which curled upwards in wreaths. Harry lit up a Woodbine and scanned the inside of the room. All looked very normal, just people out for a good night, mostly couples, not all young, a good amount of older men and women sitting drinking tea and smoking and odd single people dotted here and there.
    Choosing a middle aisle seat he