The Enemy Within Us - E. C. Tubb, page 3
He jerked to sudden pain and scowled at the forgotten cigarette singeing his fingers. Hastily he crushed it out and, half-annoyed with himself for wasting time in idle speculation, rose to his feet. He smiled as he rubbed his tired eyes and stretched his aching muscles. If Smith was right then he should soon have positive proof. He had been driving himself too long and too hard for any self-respecting body to bear and it was about time it protested.
But somehow he didn’t think that it would.
Snapping off the desk lamp he thrust the files back into their cabinet, scooped up his cigarettes from the desk and, with a last look round, made his way towards the door.
His ankle turned beneath him on the third stride.
He swore, falling helplessly towards the door, his arms failing as he tried to regain balance, and pain jarred him as he crashed against the jamb. Tensely he examined his shoulder, wincing at the bruised muscle and bone, yet grateful that he had suffered no serious injury. If he hadn’t twisted ... If he had landed head-first . . . Concussion would have been the least he could have expected. Angrily he glared at his ankle.
“ Damn you !” he said bitterly. “ Are tou trying to kill me?”
—E. C. Tubb.
The End
Unknown Author, The Enemy Within Us - E. C. Tubb
