He smiled up at me, the famous Canning charm well in evidence, and stuck out his hand.
‘Not a night for even an old tomcat to be out,’ I said, throwing my coat over a chair. I’ll just get your brandy now,’ he added and moved away. ‘Company, señor,’ Rafael said cheerfully. Canning was seated in an armchair in front of a blazing log fire, a glass in one hand. It was a pleasant enough room, rough stone walls, a well-stocked bar at one side. I followed him, unbuttoning my trench-coat. ‘A large brandy might be a sensible idea, considering the state I’m in.’ He was on his way to La Paz in his private aeroplane, but they had to put down here because of the weather.’ ‘Ah, yes, that was the pilot of Mr Smith, an American gentleman who has just booked in. ‘Did I see the cab driving away just now?’ Rafael wasn’t behind the desk, but as I paused, shaking the rain from my coat, a door on my left opened and he emerged. I watched it go for a moment, unable to see if Canning was inside. As I approached, a man in a leather flying jacket and peaked cap hurried down the steps and got in. ‘Exactly what I was wondering, Hugo,’ I said softly, and I went along the passage quickly and let myself out. The general said, ‘You can take me to the hotel now,’ and closed the door behind him.
#VALHALLA ROOM VE VERBERATE DRIVER#
I motioned him to silence and moved to the entrance.Īs Canning opened the door, I saw the cab from the airstrip outside, the driver waiting in the rain.
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