A Christmas Hope by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page B

that, I did not tell them I had seen him.”
    “Ah. Who looks after your horses?”
    “I sent the groom off on an errand. If he knew anything about it, either he has already told the police, or he’s not going to.”
    Squeaky pursed his lips. “And where is this drunkard now?”
    “I have no idea—”
    “Good,” he cut across her. “Leave it that way. If you should be asked by the police and they know he was there, say you didn’t recognize him. You can’t be expected to know every tramp by sight. Who the devil do they think you are? You found him sleeping in your stable. You fed him out of charity. You have nothing else to add. That’s my advice.” He smiled with satisfaction andreached for his pen, looking with disgust at its rather bent nib and then at the ink marks on the page he would now have to write again.
    “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “Now I need your advice to know what I can do to help him, to make sure that the police don’t arrest him and convict him, if he is innocent.”
    He raised his eyes slowly. “You have just crawled out of the fire, and now you want to jump back into it?”
    “I don’t want them to hang the wrong man!”
    “They aren’t going to hang anybody until they catch him, and they may not do that if he has any sense.”
    “He can’t live in hiding forever! And he shouldn’t have to, if he’s innocent,” she protested.
    “It shouldn’t rain on my birthday either, but it usually does. There’s nothing you can do about it.” He screwed up one of the ink-stained sheets of paper and threw it into the wastebasket.
    “When’s your birthday?” she asked.
    “February,” he replied. “What are you going to do about it? It always rains in February.”
    “Are you going to help me prove his innocence?”
    “No. I’m going to do something useful, like pay the bills. Leave me alone to get on with it.”
    She was disappointed, unreasonably so, and she was also humiliated. She had come in here and interrupted the scruffiest and most disreputable man she knew, a man who had not long ago run a brothel for a living. She had asked for his help, and he had refused her. Worse than that, she could see that his refusal was perfectly reasonable.
    She turned and walked away before he could look up again and make some further remark or—worse—see that she was hurt.

    Christmas was approaching rapidly. There were now parties, theater performances, opera, and ballet for those who either had such tastes or found these events were appropriate places at which to be seen. Claudine was of the former opinion, Wallace the latter, although he did like certain orchestral concerts, particularly oratorio—the only one she did not care for.
    A couple of days after Claudine’s conversation with Squeaky, she and Wallace dressed to join some friends at the theater for a gala occasion. Claudine did not havea new gown yet, so she chose an older one. It had been considerably adapted, almost recut, and she felt it was particularly flattering. She had always been tall, and since working at the clinic she had had less time to eat. Actually, if she were honest with herself, she had less time in which to be bored, and consequently eat cake and pastries. As a result, she was considerably slimmer than she had been a short while ago, and it became her.
    Wallace looked at her without interest as she came down the stairs to where he was waiting. Then he noticed the peacock-shaded silk over the darker blue underskirt, and his eyes widened. He drew in breath to say something then changed his mind.
    “We’d better hurry,” he told her instead. “We don’t want to be late.”
    The theater was already crowded when they arrived, with people greeting friends. The sound of laughter, the swirl of bright gowns, and the glittering of lights gave a sense of festivity, as much so as wreaths of holly, the sound of church bells, and the songs of carolers. It still looked like there would be no snow. How perverse of