He did not bother to open them again. Now he knew that there would be no tall, dark man ouside looking up at his window. Martin Beck switched on the overhead light and undressed. His head and left arm ached. He looked in the long mirror in the wardrobe. He had a large bruise above his right knee, and his left shoulder was swollen and black and blue. He ran his hand over his head and felt a large bump at the back of it. He could not find any more injuries. The bed looked soft and cool and inviting. He switched off the light and crept down between the sheets. He lay on his back for a while and tried to think as he stared out into the half-light. Then he turned over on his side and fell asleep. It was nearly two o'clock when he woke to the sound of the telephone ringing. It was Szluka. 'Have you slept?" 'Yes." 'Good. Can you come over?" 'Yes. Now?" 'I'll send a car. It'll be there in half an hour.
What do You think about The Man Who Went Up In Smoke?
