The Curious Incident at Claridge's Read Free

upon at Claridge’s,’ Payne said sternly. ‘Does the honour of the regiment mean so little to you?’
    â€˜Something funny’s going on, Payne. See that couple over there?’ Jesty pointed. ‘The old boy and the girlie?’
    â€˜What about them? You couldn’t possibly be after him, so you must be after her.’
    â€˜Perhaps I am. Any objections?’
    â€˜Are you stalking her?’
    â€˜She did something rather peculiar. I’m trying to work out what she’s up to exactly …’
    The young woman had a delicate pale face. Hair pulled back in a severe bun. Late twenties or early thirties, Payne decided. Attractive. Practically no make-up. Simple black dress. Intense. Beautiful, yes, in a rather exclusive kind of way. Her bone structure! A model? Something of the head girl about her—the way she did her hair. Made her appear a trifle forbidding. Shouldn’t do her hair like that. The old boy was probably in his seventies. Face like a lugubrious bloodhound. Querulous expression. Balding. Smart double-breasted blazer and black tie … Her grandfather?
    There was a coffee pot on the table in front of them with two cups. Also a glass. No food of any kind. Had they been to a funeral? Or were they going to one? A somewhat desolate air hung about them.
    â€˜Who are they?’ Payne whispered.
    â€˜Her name is Penelope, that’s how the pantaloon addressed her. No idea how they are related. My guess is he is her aged uncle.’
    â€˜May be her aged husband …’
    â€˜Perish the thought! Don’t think she likes him very much.’ Jesty’s eyes narrowed. ‘She’s a looker, isn’t she?’
    â€˜She is, rather. Now, steady on—’
    â€˜You think I am after her virtue?’
    â€˜Aren’t you?’
    â€˜I want to stroke her hair … Look at those lips … She’s the kind that puts up a fight … I’d like that … Incidentally, the pantaloon is going to a place called Maybrick Manor.’
    â€˜Maybrick Manor?’
    â€˜Some such name. May have been Maypole Manor. Or Mayflower. Not sure. The acoustics here are awful. Intend to complain to the manager about it.’
    â€˜Hasn’t it occurred to you that perhaps Claridge’s was never meant to accommodate eavesdroppers?’
    â€˜The old boy said something about it not being his fault the ghastly woman wanted to end it all.’
    â€˜What ghastly woman?’
    â€˜No idea … I managed to walk close by their table twice—after I saw what she did. I was curious. Don’t think she noticed me. Didn’t so much as lift her pretty head. Distraite .’
    â€˜What did she do?’
    Jesty pointed. ‘See that little box beside the old boy’s cup?’
    â€˜What about it?’
    The next moment the young woman signalled to one of the waiters and said in a peremptory voice that was loud enough for them to hear, ‘Could we have the bill, please?’
    â€˜Yes, madam.’
    â€˜Looks like a snuff-box.’ Payne squinted. ‘A silver snuffbox. Seventeenth-century, at a guess.’
    The old man spoke peevishly. ‘Penelope, my dear, isn’t it a bit early?’
    She glanced at her watch. ‘I don’t think you should make the Master wait. It would be bad manners.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t have minded some more coffee, actually. There’s no need to hurry. The Master said, come whenever you want.’
    â€˜The Master was only being polite.’
    â€˜The Master is always polite.’
    Payne frowned. ‘Who is the Master?’
    â€˜A damned fine-looking filly,’ Jesty murmured. ‘I love her voice. I love her throat—’
    â€˜She looks jolly tense. Like a cat on hot bricks.’ Payne stroked his jaw with his forefinger.
    â€˜She’s got a reason to be tense. She did something damned odd.’
    â€˜What did she do?’
    Jesty did not