Description: Epitaph for a Spy by Eric Ambler This is the February 1939 Edition Front cover and spine Further images of this book are shown below Publisher and place of publication Dimensions in inches (to the nearest quarter-inch) London: Hodder and Stoughton 4½ inches wide x 7 inches tall Edition Length February 1939 Fourth Impression [first published February 1938] 287 pages Condition of covers Internal condition Original blind-stamped red cloth blocked in black. The covers are marked and rubbed, with some patchy discolouration on the front cover (mainly small "dots") and a few slightly larger discoloured patches on the rear cover. The spine is dull. The spine ends and corners are bumped and frayed. The inner hinges cracked immediately past the red end-papers, and the letter "C" has been written in ink on the red front free end-paper (please see the final two images below). There is scattered foxing throughout and some pages are stained or have grubby marks (particularly pages 14 to 17, shown below); the text is otherwise reasonably clean throughout on tanned paper. The edge of the text block is dust-stained and lightly foxed. Dust-jacket present? Other comments No This is the third of Ambler's classic pre-Second World War output, and this volume appeared just a year after the First Edition. The covers are dull and bumped and while there is internal foxing and staining, most of the text is reasonably clean. Pre-War examples are now becoming quite scarce. Illustrations, maps, etc Contents NONE : No illustrations are called for Please see below for details Post & shipping information Payment options The packed weight is approximately 500 grams. Full shipping/postage information is provided in a panel at the end of this listing. Payment options : UK buyers: cheque (in GBP), debit card, credit card (Visa, MasterCard but not Amex), PayPal International buyers: credit card (Visa, MasterCard but not Amex), PayPal Full payment information is provided in a panel at the end of this listing. Epitaph for a Spy Contents I. Arrest II. Interrogation III. Beghin IV. " Go Spy the Land " V. " Emil " VI. A Door Slams VII. Russian Billiards VIII. Fracas IX. Violence X. Bapista XI. Two Spools of Film XII. Ultimatum XIII. Either . . . Or . . . XIV. Aggressive Policy XV. " All Men Are Liars " XVI. The Fugitives XVII. Instructions Received XVIII. " He Goes in Disguise " XIX. Epitaph XX. Gone Away Epitaph for a Spy I. Arrest I arrived in St. Gatien from Nice on Tuesday, the fourteenth of August. I was arrested at 11.45 a.m. on Thursday, the sixteenth, by an agent de police and an inspector in plain clothes and taken to the Commissariat. Those two sentences were very easy to write. When I sat down at this table and looked at the sheet of paper in front of me, I wondered what effect the words would have. Not very long ago, the mere sight of them would have made my heart beat faster, would have sent me out into the streets to be among other people, to breathe the dust of the pavements, to reassure myself that I was no longer alone. Yet now I can write them and they do not touch me. The mind heals quickly. Or is it that all experience is partial and incomplete, that what seems a short, straight line to-day is to-morrow merely part of a perfectly rational circle ? Herr Schimler would answer " Yes " to that. But he went back to Germany and I do not think that I shall see him again. Nor, for that matter, am I likely to see any of the others. A few weeks ago, I received a letter from one of them. It was forwarded to me by the new Manager of the Reserve and recalls " pleasant hours " spent in my company. It concludes with a request for a loan of a hundred francs. It is still in my pocket unanswered. If I did spent any pleasant hours in the writer's company I have no recollection of them. Nor have I any money to lend. That is one of my reasons for writing this story. The other reason . . . but you shall judge for yourself. For several kilometres on the way from Toulon to La Ciotat, the railway runs very near to the coast. As the train rushes between the innumerable short tunnels through which this section of the line has been built, you catch quick glimpses of the sea below, dazzlingly blue, of red rocks, of white houses among pine woods. It is as if you were watching a magic lantern show with highly coloured slides and an impatient operator. The eye has no time to absorb details. Even if you know of St. Gatien and are looking for it, you can see nothing of it but the bright red roof and the pale yellow stucco walls of the Hotel de la Reserve. I had heard of St. Gatien and its pension from a friend in Paris. The cooking at the Reserve was epatant, I had been told : the rooms were comfortable, the situation was pleasant, and St. Gatien was not yet " discovered." For forty francs a day en pension one could live well at the Reserve. Forty francs a day was a great deal for me to pay, but after two days at the Reserve I had long ceased to worry about my extravagance. I began, indeed, to wish that I had spent the whole three weeks of my holiday there instead of merely breaking my journey back to Paris. The Reserve was that sort of small hotel. The village of St. Gatien sprawls decoratively in the lee of the small headland on which the hotel stands. The walls of the houses are, like those of most other Mediterranean fishing villages, coated with either white, egg-shell blue or rose pink washes. Rocky heights, whose pine-clad slopes meet the seashore on the opposite side of the bay, shelter the miniature harbour from the mistral which sometimes blows strongly from the north-west. The population is seven hundred and forty-three. The majority depend for their livelihoods on fishing. There are two cafes, three bistros, seven shops and, farther round the bay, a police station. But, from the end of the terrace where I was sitting that morning the village and the police station were out of sight. The hotel stands on the highest point of the headland and the terrace runs along the south side of the building. Beyond the terrace there is a sheer drop of about fifteen metres. The branches of pines growing below brush the pillars of the balustrade. But farther out towards the point the level rises again. There are gashes of red rock in the dry green scrub. A few windswept tamarisks wave their tortured branches in silhouette against the instense ultramarine blue of the sea. Occasionally a white cloud of spray starts up from the rocks below. It is good and peaceful. It was already very hot, and the cicadas were droning in the terraced gardens at the side of the hotel. By moving my head slightly I could see, through the balustrade, the small Reserve bathing beach. Two large coloured sunshades were planted in the sand. From under one of them two pairs of legs protruded, a woman's and a man's. They looked young and very brown. A faint murmur of voices told me that there were other guests out of sight in the shady part of the beach. The gardener, his head and shoulders sheltered from the sun by a huge straw hat, was painting a blue band round the gunwale of an upturned dinghy resting on trestles. A motor-boat was coming round the headland on the far side of the bay and making for the beach. As it came nearer, I could distinguish the thin, lanky figure of Koche, the manager of the Reserve, drooping over the tiller. The other man in the boat wore russet sail-cloth trousers and was, I guessed, one of the fishermen from the village. They would have been out since dawn. Maybe we should have red mullet for lunch. Out at sea a Nederland-Lloyd liner moved on its way from Marseilles to Villefranche. I was thinking that to-morrow night I would have to pack my suit-case and that early Saturday morning I would have to go by bus into Toulon and catch the train for Paris. The train would be near Aries in the heat of the day, my body would stick to the hard leather seats of the third-class compartment, and there would be a layer of dust and soot over everything. I would be tired and thirsty by the time we reached Dijon. I must remember to take a bottle of water with me, with, perhaps, a little wine in it. I would be glad to get to Paris. But not for long. There would be the long walk from the platforms of the Gare de Lyon to the platforms of the Metro. My suit-case would be heavy by then. Direction Neuilly to Concorde. Change. Direction Mairie d'lssy to Gare Montparnasse. Change. Direction Porte d'Orleans to Alesia. Exit. Montrouge. Avenue de Chatillon. Hotel de Bordeaux. And on Monday morning there would be breakfast standing at the counter of the Cafe de l'Orient and another Metro journey, Denfert-Rochereau to Etoile, and a walk down the Avenue Marceau. Monsieur Mathis would be already there. " Good morning, Monsieur Vadassy ! You are looking very well. This term you will take elementary English, advanced German and elementary Italian. I myself will take the advanced English. We have twelve new students. There are three business men and nine restaurateurs (he never called them waiters). All are for English. There is none who wishes Hungarian." Another year. But meanwhile there were the pines and the sea, the red rocks and the sand. I stretched luxuriously and a lizard darted across the tiled floor of the terrace. It stopped suddenly to bask in the sun beyond the shadow of my chair. I could see the pulse beating in its throat. Its tail lay curved in a neat semi-circle, making a tangent of the diagonal division between the tiles. Lizards have an uncanny sense of design. It was this lizard that reminded me of my photographs. I possess only two objects of value in this world. One of them is a camera, the other a letter dated 10th February, 1867, from Deak to von Beust. If someone were to offer me money for the letter I should accept it thankfully ; but I am very fond of the camera, and nothing but starvation would induce me to part with it. Not that I am a particularly good photographer. True, I once had a print included in a " Photographs of the Year " exhibition in Paris ; but, as every photographer knows, given a good miniature camera, many spools of film and a little knowledge, every amateur will sooner or later take a good photograph. Like those other games of skill they play on English fair-grounds, it is largely a question of chance. I had been taking photographs at the Reserve and had, the previous day, taken an exposed spool into the village chemist's shop to be developed. Now, in the ordinary way, I should not dream of letting anyone else develop my films. Half the pleasure of amateur photography lies in doing your own developing. But I had been experimenting, and if I did not see the results of the experiments before I left St. Gatien I should have no opportunity of making use of them. So I had left them to the mercies of the chemist. He had seemed to know what he was doing and had written my instructions down carefully. The negative was to be developed and dry by eleven o'clock. I looked at my watch. The time was eleven-thirty. If I went to the chemist's now, I should have time to get back, bathe, and have an aperitif before lunch. I rose and walked along the terrace, round through the gardens, and up the stone steps to the road. By now the sun was beating down so fiercely that the air above the asphalt was quivering. I had no hat and when I touched my hair it was burning hot. I draped a handkerchief over my head and walked up the hill and then down the main street leading to the harbour. The chemist's shop was cool and smelt of perfume and disinfectant. The sound of the door bell had barely died away before the chemist was facing me over the counter. His eyes met mine, but he seemed not to recognize me . . . Please note: to avoid opening the book out, with the risk of damaging the spine, some of the pages were slightly raised on the inner edge when being scanned, which has resulted in some blurring to the text and a shadow on the inside edge of the final images. Colour reproduction is shown as accurately as possible but please be aware that some colours are difficult to scan and may result in a slight variation from the colour shown below to the actual colour. In line with eBay guidelines on picture sizes, some of the illustrations may be shown enlarged for greater detail and clarity. The inner hinges cracked immediately past the red end-papers, and the letter "C" has been written in ink on the red front free end-paper : U.K. buyers: To estimate the “packed weight” each book is first weighed and then an additional amount of 150 grams is added to allow for the packaging material (all books are securely wrapped and posted in a cardboard book-mailer). The weight of the book and packaging is then rounded up to the nearest hundred grams to arrive at the postage figure. I make no charge for packaging materials and do not seek to profit from postage and packaging. Postage can be combined for multiple purchases. Packed weight of this item : approximately 500 grams Postage and payment options to U.K. addresses: Details of the various postage options can be obtained by selecting the “Postage and payments” option at the head of this listing (above). Payment can be made by: debit card, credit card (Visa or MasterCard, but not Amex), cheque (payable to "G Miller", please), or PayPal. Please contact me with name, address and payment details within seven days of the end of the listing; otherwise I reserve the right to cancel the sale and re-list the item. Finally, this should be an enjoyable experience for both the buyer and seller and I hope you will find me very easy to deal with. If you have a question or query about any aspect (postage, payment, delivery options and so on), please do not hesitate to contact me. International buyers: To estimate the “packed weight” each book is first weighed and then an additional amount of 150 grams is added to allow for the packaging material (all books are securely wrapped and posted in a cardboard book-mailer). The weight of the book and packaging is then rounded up to the nearest hundred grams to arrive at the shipping figure. I make no charge for packaging materials and do not seek to profit from shipping and handling. Shipping can usually be combined for multiple purchases (to a maximum of 5 kilograms in any one parcel with the exception of Canada, where the limit is 2 kilograms). Packed weight of this item : approximately 500 grams International Shipping options: Details of the postage options to various countries (via Air Mail) can be obtained by selecting the “Postage and payments” option at the head of this listing (above) and then selecting your country of residence from the drop-down list. For destinations not shown or other requirements, please contact me before buying. Due to the extreme length of time now taken for deliveries, surface mail is no longer a viable option and I am unable to offer it even in the case of heavy items. I am afraid that I cannot make any exceptions to this rule. 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Prospective international buyers should ensure that they are able to provide credit card details or pay by PayPal within 7 days from the end of the listing (or inform me that they will be sending a cheque in GBP drawn on a major British bank). Thank you. (please note that the book shown is for illustrative purposes only and forms no part of this listing) Book dimensions are given in inches, to the nearest quarter-inch, in the format width x height. Please note that, to differentiate them from soft-covers and paperbacks, modern hardbacks are still invariably described as being ‘cloth’ when they are, in fact, predominantly bound in paper-covered boards pressed to resemble cloth. Fine Books for Fine Minds I value your custom (and my feedback rating) but I am also a bibliophile : I want books to arrive in the same condition in which they were dispatched. For this reason, all books are securely wrapped in tissue and a protective covering and are then posted in a cardboard container. If any book is significantly not as described, I will offer a full refund. Unless the size of the book precludes this, hardback books with a dust-jacket are usually provided with a clear film protective cover, while hardback books without a dust-jacket are usually provided with a rigid clear cover. The Royal Mail, in my experience, offers an excellent service, but things can occasionally go wrong. However, I believe it is my responsibility to guarantee delivery. If any book is lost or damaged in transit, I will offer a full refund. Thank you for looking. Please also view my other listings for a range of interesting books and feel free to contact me if you require any additional information Design and content © Geoffrey Miller
Price: 69.99 GBP
Location: Flamborough, Bridlington
End Time: 2024-02-11T18:33:18.000Z
Shipping Cost: 21.11 GBP
Product Images
Item Specifics
Returns Accepted: Returns Accepted
After receiving the item, your buyer should cancel the purchase within: 30 days
Return policy details: If any book is significantly not as described, I will offer a full refund, including return postage. All books are securely wrapped and posted in a cardboard container.
Return postage will be paid by: Buyer
Year Printed: 1939
Fiction Subject: Thrillers
Binding: Hardback
Author: Eric Ambler
Language: English
Publisher: Hodder and Stoughton
Place of Publication: London
