Fear by Night by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

frightfully nice to me. She’s an old pet, and he’s the best son in the world. She says so, and she ought to know. She’s got a maid called Riddle who has probably been the most respectable person in England since Mrs. Grundy died. I suppose she is dead—or had you just been having a nice cosy heart-to-heart talk with her when you wrote to me ?
    She signed “Ann,” and then wrote underneath:
    Don’t be a Maiden Aunt .
    Boil the head till perfectly clear. One to two hours should suffice. (Mrs. Halliday has just been telling me how to make marrow jam. This ought to reassure you, because villains in films never make marrow jam .)
    My Maiden Aunts told me never to allow young men to lend me money .
    On Friday Ann began to settle down. It wasn’t going to be too bad. Riddle looked after Mrs. Halliday till eleven o’clock, and then Ann took her over. After lunch she rested for two hours under Riddle’s supervision, and at eight o’clock she went to bed. No, it wasn’t going to be at all bad, and the pay was marvellous. If Charles thought she was going to throw up a job like this just because he chose to be a fuss, Charles had got to be taught to think again. Perhaps she would dine with him one day next week. She wondered whether she would have the nerve to ask for what Mrs. Halliday called her wages in advance. She couldn’t dine with Charles unless she could get her dress out of pawn. Ouf! There was something horribly sordid about the idea of dining with Charles in a pawned dress—sordid, and salutary. If she was in any danger of weakening, the thought of the pawnbroker’s shop would have a bracing effect. Yes, she would dine with Charles, just to show them both that she didn’t care a damn.
    And with that, Mr. James Halliday came into the room and inquired whether she had finished packing.
    â€œPacking?” said Ann.
    Mr. Halliday’s sandy eyebrows rose.
    â€œWell now! Hasn’t Mrs. Halliday told you?”
    â€œNothing about packing,” said Ann.
    â€œNo—no,” said Mr. Halliday—“you’ve not seen her lunch, to be sure. Well, if you like to make a start, you could get in the best part of an hour before tea.”
    â€œBut where are we going?”
    Ann was in one of the old-gold chairs with a book on her lap. A hot, dusty ray of sunshine slanted between her and Mr. James, who stood a couple of yards away fingering the hard, shiny leaf of the aspidistra in the blue pot. He said,
    â€œWe’re going on my boat. I hope you like sailing. It’s too hot here for the old lady, and that’s the truth. We wouldn’t have been here now if it hadn’t been for getting her fixed up.”
    â€œI love sailing,” said Ann. “Where are we going?”
    Mr. Halliday took out a bright magenta silk handkerchief and dusted the aspidistra. He had shrewd grey eyes and unusually thick sandy lashes. He did not look at Ann.
    â€œOh, up along the coast.”
    â€œAnd when do we start?”
    â€œNine o’clock to-morrow morning,” said Mr. Halliday, and he put the magenta silk handkerchief back into his pocket and went out of the room.
    It did not take Ann half an hour to pack. She looked at the clock, and wrote to Charles in pencil because there was no ink in her bedroom, and somehow—somehow she didn’t want to write to Charles under the eyes of the mirrors and the aspidistras in the drawing-room. She said:
    Darling Charles ,
    Back to the films! Captions: “The Sinister House”—“The Lowly Companion”—“The Seven Aspidistras”—“Rum-runner’s Gilded Hall of Vice”—“The Mysterious Yacht”—“An Unexpected Voyage.” Take three long breaths and emerge into real life. We’re off to-morrow on a cruise up along the coast. Isn’t it simply too thrilling? I adore sailing. I’ll send you an address when I’ve got