Storm Music (1934) Read Free Page B

and the car began to slow down. "Please don't stand still when you're out; start walking at once. And thank you very much for doing your duty to me. And— and don't forget that that's ended."
    As I took her slim hand her steady, grey eyes met mine.
    "True," said I. "But my duty to Florin remains; and I'm not so sure as I was that he called upon me for vengeance."
    "What else?" said the girl.
    "He loved his mistress." I said. "As he died, he may have been thinking that she would be short of a man."
    And then I was out of the car and was sauntering down the pavement as though I had strolled for an hour.
    Except for a crone with a bucket, there seemed to be no one in sight

Chapter 3

    AS THE Rolls swept over a crossing and on to the Salzburg road—
    "I'm almost sure," said Geoffrey, "that we've stolen a march on our friends. They may have been watching the inn, but I can't believe they expected a movement like this. Of course they may stick to Barley, but that I doubt. And in any event he'll give them the slip at Salzburg."
    "At Salzburg?" I cried.
    "That’s right." said my cousin. "He'll be in that city tonight. Tomorrow he'll come back to Villach, and there we shall pick him up as soon as it's dusk."
    "You're taking no chances." said I.
    "D'you blame me, John? I mean, the return of your letter was pretty good work. Talk about a riposte. . . . And you may have been seen with my lady; in which case, as she observed, the job, whatever it is, will go by the board, and Pharaoh and Co.'s one idea will be to do you in. She's no damned fool, this grey-eyed goddess of yours. That's probably her American blood. And her Austrian made her stand-offish. These old Austrian families are terribly strict."
    "She made amends," said I. "No one could have been more— more gracious."
    My cousin laughed.
    "Goddesses are gracious," he said. "And now please look behind you and keep your eyes on the road. If there's nothing whatever in sight, in three or four minutes I'm going to turn off to the left."
    Five minutes later we were in the depths of a beech wood and the main road was half a mile off.
    We now made no more haste, and since my cousin took us a roundabout way it was long past noon when we stole into Annabel.
    Geoffrey berthed the car in the shade of some limes which grew fifty yards from the inn, on the opposite side of the way.
    "You go in," he said, "and have a look at the rooms. I imagine they're quite all right, but you never can tell."
    I left him filling a pipe and walked to "The Reaping Hook."
    This was a pleasant inn, standing back from the road. The house was old and well built of stone and oak, and though, I fancy, its custom must have been slight, there was nothing mean about it, within or without. We had supped there some three weeks back and had found the service eager and the kitchen uncommonly good, but, while I had not much doubt that the rooms which the host had to offer would do very well, good board does not warrant good lodging, as every traveller knows.
    The day seemed destined to be a day of surprise.
    AS I entered the great, stone taproom, it was clear that all was not well. The room was not swept and garnished as when I had seen last, a settle was lying on its back, with its chest disgorging a medley of household stuff, and a sordid stain on a wall led down to a puddle of beer and a broken glass. As I stood, frowning, the maid that had served us so blithely brushed by me, blowsed and sullen, without a word, and when I passed on to the kitchen, in search of the host, I found his wife railing at a scullion, with tears running down her cheeks.
    It now seemed clear that some brawl or other had lately disordered the house, and I began to wonder whether the host were absent because he had suffered some hurt. The poor woman's state, however, forbade my questioning her— and, indeed, as soon as she saw me she threw her apron over her head and abandoned herself to her grief. I, therefore, turned to the scullion and asked