"Back in a moment," Martins said and walked straight out of the hotel again: he wanted time to think. But immediately he stepped outside a man came forward, touched his cap and said firmly, "Please, sir." He flung open the door of a khaki painted truck with a union jack on the windscreen and firmly urged Martins within. He surrendered without protest; sooner or later he felt sure inquiries would be made: he had only pretended optimism to Anna Schmidt.
The driver drove too fast for safety on the frozen road, and Martins protested. All he got in reply was a sullen grunt and a muttered sentence containing the word "orders." "Gave you orders to kill me?" Martins said and got no reply at all. He caught sight of the Titans on the Hofburg balancing great globes of snow above their heads, and then they plunged into ill-lit streets beyond where he lost all sense of direction.
"Is it far?" But the driver paid him no attention at all. At least, Martins thought, I am not under arrest: they have not sent a guard; I am being invited, wasn't that the word they used? to visit the station to make a statement.
The car drew up and the driver led the way up two nights of stairs: he rang the bell of a great double door, and Martins was aware beyond it of many voices. He turned sharply to the driver and said, "Where the hell ...?" but the driver was already halfway down the stairs, and already the door was opening. His eyes were dazzled from the darkness by the lights inside: he heard but he could hardly see the advance of Crabbin. "Oh, Mr. Dexter, we have been so anxious, but better late than never. Let me introduce you to Miss Wilbraham and the Gräfin von Meyersdorf."
A buffet laden with coffee cups: an urn steamed: a woman's face shiny with exertion: two young men with the happy intelligent faces of sixth formers, and huddled in the background, like faces in a family album, a multitude of the old-fashioned, the dingy, the earnest and cheery features of constant readers. Martins looked behind him, but the door had closed.
He said desperately to Mr. Crabbin (он сказал отчаянно = в отчаянии мистеру Крэббину), "I'm sorry (извините: «я сожалею»), but (но)..."
"Don't think any more about it (не думайте сколько-нибудь больше об этом)," Mr. Crabbin said. "One cup of coffee (одна чашка кофе) and then let's go on to the discussion (и затем давайте перейдем: «пойдем дальше» к дискуссии). We have a very good gathering tonight (у нас сегодня вечером очень хорошее собрание). They'll put you on your mettle, Mr. Dexter (они вас воодушевят, мистер Декстер;