Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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There were no windows in the room—at least not what the world above would understand by the word—but there was an opening overlooking the narrow causeway that served to let in light and air. There was no shutter to it, only heavy purple draperies hung at either side, which could be drawn across if privacy was desired.

In two corners of the room were tall braziers, and Alan touched the large switch that protruded from them. Instantly the room was flooded with the soft, purple light that seemed to exude from the trees; and Alan felt that his first conjecture was right—the trees possessed some natural light which the natives had learnt to control, and which they ran along the branches much in the same way that we run electricity along cables. At any rate the result was very pleasing, and the light possessed none of the glare that is characteristic of electricity.

His investigations being finished he inspected a heavy curtain that was draped across the wall nearest the “window” opening. He pulled it aside, and behind it was revealed a door. It was made on the sliding principle, and as it moved slightly he saw revealed before him a room that seemed almost an exact replica of the apartment he was in. Carefully he stepped inside—and there in the further corner, he saw a low mattress, and in the semi darkness he thought he saw it move ever so slightly. He drew back startled, but on his ears came the sound of deep breathing: some one or something was sleeping there. He moved cautiously toward it, and saw the figure of a man lying on the couch. Suddenly the sleeper turned over, leaving his face exposed to view. Alan uttered an exclamation that awoke the sleeping man. For a moment there was silence and then a great cry rang on the air—“My God—it’s Alan.”