تعلم الانجليزية

Nick stopped his car in front of the hotel. He looked carefully before he got out, but there was nobody with white hair near the hotel. He half-ran through the hotel doors and went to the desk inside. 'I'm looking for a man with very short white hair,' he said to the woman behind the desk. 'He's staying here, I think. He's about sixty years old, and he's tall and thin.' The woman did not look very interested. 'There are a lot of visitors in the hotel,' she said. 'Do you know his name?' 'No, I don't,' Nick said. 'He's, er, a friend of a friend, you see. He arrived in Vancouver yesterday, and I must find him. It's very important. Please help me!' The woman looked at him. 'There are three hundred and fifty rooms in this hotel,' she said, 'and maybe thirty or forty men with white hair. How can I remember all their names?' She turned away to answer a telephone call...

The next day was Thursday. Nick stayed in his hotel room and wrote about mountains all morning. Then he drove to Stanley Park in the afternoon. He sat and read a book for an hour, then he went for a walk under the tall trees. There was nobody here. It was quiet, and he could walk and think. He thought about Meg Hutson, and about the man with white hair. Did he know Meg Hutson? Did she know him? He remembered Meg Hutson's last words. Drive carefully, Mr Hollywood. Why did she say that? Why did she call him Mr Hollywood? He didn't understand any of it. Suddenly, he heard a noise. He stopped. 'That was a gun!' he thought. 'There's somebody in the trees with a gun! There it is again!' Then something hit the tree over his head. 'Somebody's shooting at me!' Nick thought. He turned and ran. And somebody began to run after him. Nick ran through the trees. There was no sun in here, and it was half-dark. And there were no people....