Read The Maggie for Free Online Page B

Pusey interrupted pompously, and led the way into the inner room – Marshall’s room. The door was opened and closed too quickly for him to realise that Miss Peters was at that moment being brushed aside by two people who could make the difficult situation practically impossible.
    In the inner room Marshall was standing by the window with the Star . He still found the adventure almost incredible and he looked up with amusement as Pusey entered.
    Pusey waved an introduction. ‘Mr Campbell, Mr Marshall.’
    For a moment the two men eyed each other warily but with respect. Then Marshall held out his hand. ‘How do you do, Mr Campbell? It’s very kind of you to give us your help in this matter.’
    â€˜Not at all, Mr Marshall.’
    â€˜Sit down, won’t you? Can I offer you a drink?’
    â€˜I’ll have a whisky, thank you.’
    Marshall gestured to Pusey. ‘And a Vichy water for me.’ He picked up the newspaper again and showed it to Campbell. ‘Quite a boat. Is that MacTaggart?’
    Campbell made no attempt to hide his smile. ‘Aye.’
    Pusey, who was telephoning for the drinks, could not see how anyone could find this disgraceful episode funny. His fingers drummed nervously, the brow was furrowed with responsibility. ‘Room service?’
    He knew when Miss Peters came fluttering into the room that you could never be sure that there were not new trials and irritations to meet. She tripped across to him and whispered, ‘Mr Pusey, if you could spare a minute . . .’ It was the first time he had seen Miss Peters scared.
    He followed her irritably outside and was startled by what he saw. Standing with feet astride and arms akimbo, Sarah looked like some vengeful goddess; Kali, perhaps, dressed – but not too well dressed – in western garments. In the background, and obviously enjoying the situation, was the reporter, Fraser.
    Pusey’s nostrils quivered with disapproval. ‘Miss Peters, who are these people?’
    â€˜People, indeed! I’ll ‘‘people’’ you, young man,’ said Sarah coming menacingly forward, with bag swinging.
    â€˜Really, madam, I only asked . . .’ said Pusey, backing away in alarm.
    â€˜Then if that’s the way ye ask I’ll have to learn ye some manners.’
    â€˜No, no. I’m sorry.’
    She paused, undecided, as though she would still dearly love to swing her bag at him, despite his apology.
    With a trembling voice Pusey turned to Fraser, ‘And who – who are you please?’
    The reporter grinned, ‘My name’s Fraser.’
    â€˜Fraser?’
    â€˜I’m a reporter on the Star .’
    â€˜A reporter! Was it you who wrote that . . . that . . .?’
    Fraser nodded cheerfully. ‘That’s right.’
    â€˜Well, I think you can take it, Mr Fraser, that you are not welcome here, not welcome at all.’
    â€˜Does that go for me?’ Sarah demanded menacingly.
    â€˜No, no. Indeed not, madam. I was just going to ask . . .’
    â€˜What I’m here for? Well, I’ll tell ye. Ye’ve concocted some scheme with that blackguard brither of mine, Peter MacTaggart.’
    â€˜No, madam, I assure you . . .’
    She said fiercely. ‘This Puffer you hired to go . . .’
    â€˜We didn’t hire a Puffer . . .’
    â€˜It says in the paper you did! Are your goods aboard it or not?’
    â€˜Yes, but they won’t be for long.’
    Their attention wavered towards a waiter who had come in, with silver tray carrying whisky and Vichy water. Directed by Miss Peters he made for the door of Marshall’s room.
    Sarah started indignantly as she followed the implication. She pushed past the outraged Pusey. ‘Here, I’ll no’ be put off by any underlings. I want to see the owner.’
    â€˜Please, madam . . . Please!’
    â€˜Out of my way,