Red Shadow by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page A

come back to Laura was about the best thing on earth at any time, but to come back to Laura from prison and from the sordid edge of death was something that simply couldn’t be put into words. And in four days more they would be married.
    The door was slow in opening, slow even after it had begun to move and draw in. Amelia looked round the edge of it with reddened eyes. Something caught Jim Mackenzie by the heart. He had talked to Laura on Friday, and this was Monday. Nothing could have happened since Friday.
    â€œWhere’s Miss Laura?” he said sharply.
    Amelia sniffed, gulped, and opened the door a little wider. He pushed past her into the hall, and the first thing that he saw was an orange envelope on the table.
    â€œIs that my telegram? Where’s Miss Laura?”
    â€œI don’t know, I’m sure, sir.”
    He tore open the telegram, looked at it, and threw it down. “Yes, it’s mine. Is she out?”
    Amelia gave a most rending sniff.
    â€œWent away Friday,” she said.
    Jim Mackenzie stared.
    â€œ Went away? What do you mean?”
    â€œWent away Friday,” said Amelia, and choked.
    A horrid cold feeling began to creep over Jim. There was some mistake. Laura couldn’t have gone away when she was expecting him. Not unless——
    â€œShe isn’t ill?”
    â€œNot as I knows of—but I shouldn’t wonder.” She had her apron at her eyes now, and the sentence ended on a sob.
    Jim put a hand on her shoulder and shook it.
    â€œWhat’s all this? Can’t you say?”
    Amelia twitched away from him.
    â€œI got a letter for you, sir.”
    He held out his hand, took the envelope, and after one glance at the writing walked away from her into the sitting-room. He left the door open, and Amelia, fluttering and weeping, saw him go over to the window and open the letter. As he unfolded the paper, he was conscious of bitter disappointment, and behind the disappointment—fear. What could possibly have taken Laura away when he was coming home?
    A bleak light fell on what Laura had written. He looked at those few unbelievable words, and his mind rejected them. He went on looking at them in the cold foggy light:
    â€œI am marrying Basil Stevens to-day at the Chelsea registry office.” Then her name: “Laura”. And written below it, written hastily, three shaky words: “Don’t be unhappy.”
    In some horrible way the words were effecting an entrance into his mind.
    He turned abruptly and called to Amelia. The thing was impossible, a stark lie. But then—she must be ill—she must be. He took hold of Amelia by the arm.
    â€œWhat’s all this? Where is she?”
    â€œOh, sir, I don’t know—I don’t indeed!”
    â€œBut she’s gone away.”
    â€œOh yes, sir.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œFriday morning, sir, and no address left, only a bank, and the letter for you, which I’d rather have died than give it you, sir—and—and—what h’ever come over her, ’eaven knows, for I don’t.”
    â€œShe’s— married, ” said Jim Mackenzie.
    â€œIf you can call it married—in a registry, and no wedding dress nor nothing.”
    He said it again as if he had not heard her,
    â€œShe’s married —” Then, very suddenly, “No! My God, no!” And with that he let go of Amelia’s arm and went reeling back against the wall.
    After a moment he groped for a chair and sat down.
    The tears ran down Amelia’s cheeks.
    â€œShe was trying on her wedding dress when he come, and I hadn’t no more than opened the door, when I knew that what he brought with him was trouble for Miss Laura. I hadn’t no more than got the door ajar, when I felt it. And when he come in, he brought it with him, and I says to Miss Laura——”
    Jim Mackenzie lifted a hand that felt as heavy as lead.
    â€œWhat are you talking