The Sphinx

The Sphinx by Graham Masterton Page A

Book: The Sphinx by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online
Authors: Graham Masterton
Tags: Fiction, Horror
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Supposing you get caught?”
    He shook his
head. “Not a hope. I’ve worked it out that I can get in there, snoop around a
little, and get out again with no problems.”
    “There are
dogs. Dogs as big as this. You said so yourself.”
    “Even dogs as
big as that get thrown off by gas. I’m going to take a few of those sprays that
mail carriers use. It’s suppose to stun them for long enough to take a letter
up someone’s drive, and that will be long enough for me.”
    “What about the
chauffeur, Mathieu?”
    “He won’t even
know I’m there. In case he does find out, I’m taking a .38. I won’t use it, of
course, but if he’s such a kravmaga expert, I’d prefer to have something to
wave around in self-defense.”
    Maggie sat
there biting her lip for a long time. “Can I persuade you not to do it?” she
asked after a while.
    “I don’t think
so. I’ve made up my mind.”
    “Even though it
might ruin your career?”
    He reached for
a cigarette. “It won’t do that, even if I’m caught red-handed. All I have to
say is that I was paying her a visit, and that the .Semples mistakenly took me
for a prowler. Christ, Maggie, I’m not going to burglarize the place. I’m only
going to take a quick look around the grounds and maybe a fast check through
the windows.”
    “You’re paying
a visit? At night? With a loaded gun?”
    “Maggie, you’re
just making things sound awkward. All I’m going to do is hop over the wall. The
place is enormous, they’ll never see me.”
    She thought for
a moment longer, and then she stood up.
    “You really
fell head over heels this time, didn’t you?”
    He looked up.
“And what’s wrong with that? It’s about time there was more committed passion
in life, anyway.”
    “You’re
probably right,” Maggie said. “But it depends where it’s directed, don’t you
think?”
    It was a few
minutes after eleven Thursday night when he arrived outside the Semple mansion.
    He was driving
a rented, dark-blue Matador, and he was dressed in a black, polo-neck sweater,
black corduroy pants, and a charcoal-gray cap pulled down over his eyes. He
carried a small canvas bag with Mace gas and anti-dog sprays, a coil of rope
around his shoulder, and a long-barreled .38 revolver tucked into his belt. He
switched off the car’s engine and sat there for four or five minutes, listening
to the soft rustle of the night.
    This time, he
had driven past the main gates and followed the road that led around the high
brick wall to a point that, he hoped, was nearer the house itself, He had
parked the car in the shadow of the overhanging trees on the opposite side of
the road, and he left the keys in the ignition in case he needed to make a
quick getaway.
    It was a chilly
night, and his .breath steamed as he climbed out of the car and gently clicked
the door shut behind him. Low clouds were still obscuring the moon, and he had
to blink a few times to accustom his eyes to the darkness. He listened again,
holding his breath, but the Semple estate was silent.
    Quickly, he
padded across the narrow road, trod softly through the banked-up leaves against
the wall, and paused. Still no sound from the Semple place. He unwound a
knotted nylon rope from his waist, and stepped back so that he could judge the
height of the old, moss-crusted bricks.
    There was an
aluminum rod tied to the end of the rope, and he hoped to toss this over the
wall and tug it back until it was firmly wedged between the metal spikes.
    It took four
tries. The first time, he threw too short, and the next two shots went over but
the rod refused to catch. At last he had the rope firmly in position, and he
started to climb up it, gasping and sniffing and praying that the old rusted
spikes were strong enough to take his weight.
    In three
minutes he had scrambled up to the top. He sat astride the wall, winding the
rope and catching his breath. Through the trees he could see twinkling lights
from the Semple mansion, but there was no sound at

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