- زمان مطالعه 5 دقیقه
- سطح خیلی سخت
دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»
این فصل را میتوانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید
متن انگلیسی فصل
Bond lit a cigarette. What next? Go back to the hotel. Make a phone call to London, then fly home. He would get a taxi to the offices in Regent’s Park, then walk up the stairs to M’s room. He would look into M’s cold face across the desk.
‘Better luck next time,’ M would say.
But there couldn’t be a ‘next time’. This had been their best chance to destroy Le Chiffre. And Bond had lost.
He looked at the people around the table. The croupier counted the money and put the plaques in front of the banker. Would anyone bet against a bank of thirty-two million francs?
Leiter was not with Vesper now. Vesper looked strangely calm. She smiled at Bond.
‘She doesn’t understand the game,’ Bond thought.
A waiter stopped beside him. He put a thick envelope on the table next to Bond. Bond’s heart began to beat fast. He moved the envelope under the table and opened it. His hands were shaking, but he could feel the money inside. Excitement rushed through him. He slipped the francs into his pockets. There was a piece of paper with the money. It had one line of writing.
THIRTY-TWO MILLION FRANCS. WITH BEST WISHES FROM THE USA.
Bond looked towards Vesper. Felix Leiter was standing next to her again. Leiter smiled, and Bond smiled back.
This time Bond had to win. Or had Le Chiffre already got the fifty million francs that he needed to repay SODA? Perhaps he had. Then Le Chiffre wouldn’t need to play.
The croupier had changed Bond’s notes into plaques. They were in the middle of the table with the other plaques. Thirty-two million francs.
Le Chiffre did not move.
‘A bank of thirty-two million,’ said the croupier.
The players were silent.
‘Maybe he needs to win one more bet,’ thought Bond. ‘I’ve got to accept the bet. It will surprise him. He won’t expect anyone to take the whole thirty-two million bet.’
Bond was right. Le Chiffre needed another eight million francs. At last, the banker nodded to the croupier.
‘A bank of thirty-two million francs,’ the croupier said.
‘Banco,’ Bond said quietly.
He pushed the money across the table. At that moment, he saw Le Chiffre look at the gunman behind him.
Immediately, Bond felt something hard against his back.
‘This is a gun, monsieur,’ a voice whispered. ‘It’s silent. It can blow a hole in your back but it will make no sound. People will think that you’ve fainted-4. Now, take back your bet before I count to ten. If you call for help, I’ll shoot you.’
Now Bond understood. The ‘walking stick’ was really a gun.
‘One,’ said the voice.
Bond turned his head. The man was smiling at him.
Suddenly, Bond pushed himself backwards as hard as he could. He moved so fast that the chair knocked the ‘walking stick’ from the gunman’s hand. The chair broke into two pieces. People crowded around him.
‘Monsieur! Are you all right?’ someone asked.
‘Shall we get a doctor?’ another person said.
Two or three people helped Bond to stand up.
‘Thank you,’ Bond said. ‘I’m all right now. It was only a moment’s faintness. I was a little hot.’
Someone brought a new chair and Bond sat down. He looked across at Le Chitfre. He could see fear in the banker’s fat, white face. He turned to look at the people behind him. The gunman had gone. A waiter was holding the stick.
Bond called and the waiter came across to him. ‘Please give that “walking stick” to that gentleman,’ said Bond. He pointed at Felix Leiter. it belongs to a friend of his.’
When Leiter looked closely at the walking stick, he would understand why Bond had ‘fainted’. Bond turned back to the table. He was ready.
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