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   Chapter 59 No.59

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5187

Updated: 2018-06-29 19:02


"That's quite all right, sir." The waiter replied graciously, picking up the errant glasses. The guest looked sheepish and embarrassed, and helped the waiter retrieve the glasses. One had rolled away rather faster than the others, and he went after it – just in time to see it drop over the edge. Ever the student of the human condition, Mykl's' curiosity was tweaked. He watched intently, nibbling on a cocktail sausage, as the man went all the way to the edge anyway, seemingly eager to normalize matters, to let it all just die down.

The man stood at the side, and looked nonchalantly into space, and then down at the garden, noting the drop. He seemed to be trying to locate the glass… Then he leaned over – and to Mykl's' amazement, too far – and toppled over the side with a surprised "Oh, dear!" The man executed a neat, silent somersault in the air before crashing noisily into the shrubbery below.

The disturbance caused a distinct pause in the atmosphere on the verandah. There was not a sound to be heard – even the pins had silencers on. It seemed to Mykl, that the upper-crust had sensed, with some frostiness, that to laugh was simply not the thing one does in polite company. What one did, however, was to a) ignore the disturbance and pretend nothing had happened… some people continued their conversations again; or b) show moderate interest or perhaps even feign concern. "Oh, poor man!" Someone said from behind. "Is he all right?" He heard another say from the other end of the verandah.

Evidently the man was, because Mykl saw

itlaced as before and probably completely oblivious to everyone else around him, who seemed to be laughing and clapping. Someone even whistled, although, Mykl confessed, that could have been Hanson.

"His Excellency will see you now, Captain d'Angelo." Cyril announced.

Cyril led him into the house and down a couple of winding corridors to the study, whereupon he opened the door, announced him, and left. His Excellency the Governor of Tremaine, a gentleman attached to the name of Samuel J. Grant, was a grey-haired man in his early fifties. He was seated at his desk in his study when Mykl arrived there. The mood was quiet and social. The richly decorated room was dimly lit by electric lamps shaped like lilies attached to the beige walls on all sides. A 'lovely' fire was going in the fireplace. A row of bookshelves decorated one side of the study, behind the desk, and three wing-backed armchairs stood in the center of the floor, facing the fire. Another man occupied one of them. Mr. Grant rose and moved toward Mykl.

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