Taken at the Flood by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

forward from the head of the table, “one of Mrs. Lester’s controls is a fourth-dynasty priest. He’s told us such wonderful things. You and I, Lynn, must have a long talk. Egypt, I feel, must have affected you physically.”
    Dr. Cloade said sharply:
    â€œLynn’s had better things to do than play about with all this superstitious tomfoolery.”
    â€œYou are so biased, Lionel,” said his wife.
    Lynn smiled at her aunt—then sat silent with the refrain of the words David had spoken swimming in her brain.
    â€œNothing’s safe….”
    There were people who lived in such a world—people to whom everything was dangerous. David Hunter was such a person…It was not the world that Lynn had been brought up in—but it was a world that held attractions for her nevertheless.
    David said presently in the same low amused voice:
    â€œAre we still on speaking terms?”
    â€œOh, yes.”
    â€œGood. And do you still grudge Rosaleen and myself our ill-gotten access to wealth?”
    â€œYes,” said Lynn with spirit.
    â€œSplendid. What are you going to do about it?”
    â€œBuy some wax and practise black magic!”
    He laughed.
    â€œOh, no, you won’t do that. You aren’t one of those who rely on old outmoded methods. Your methods will be modern and probably very efficient. But you won’t win.”
    â€œWhat makes you think there is going to be a fight? Haven’t we all accepted the inevitable?”
    â€œYou all behave beautifully. It is very amusing.”
    â€œWhy,” said Lynn, in a low tone, “do you hate us?”
    Something flickered in those dark unfathomable eyes.
    â€œI couldn’t possibly make you understand.”
    â€œI think you could,” said Lynn.
    David was silent for a moment or two, then he asked in a light conversational tone:
    â€œWhy are you going to marry Rowley Cloade? He’s an oaf.”
    She said sharply:
    â€œYou know nothing about it—or about him. You couldn’t begin to know!”
    Without any air of changing the conversation David asked:
    â€œWhat do you think of Rosaleen?”
    â€œShe’s very lovely.”
    â€œWhat else?”
    â€œShe doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself.”
    â€œQuite right,” said David, “Rosaleen’s rather stupid. She’s scared. She always has been rather scared. She drifts into things and then doesn’t know what it’s all about. Shall I tell you about Rosaleen?”
    â€œIf you like,” said Lynn politely.
    â€œI do like. She started by being stagestruck and drifted on to the stage. She wasn’t any good, of course. She got into a third-rate touring company that was going out to South Africa. She liked the sound of South Africa. The company got stranded in Cape Town. Then she drifted into marriage with a Government official from Nigeria. She didn’t like Nigeria—and I don’t think she liked her husband much. If he’d been a hearty sort of fellow who drank and beat her, it would have been all right. But he was rather an intellectual man who kept a large library in the wilds and who liked to talk metaphysics. So she drifted back to Cape Town again. The fellow behaved very well and gave her an adequate allowance. He might have given her a divorce, but again he might not for he was a Catholic; but anyway he rather fortunately died of fever, and Rosaleen got a small pension. Then the war started and she drifted on to a boat for South America. She didn’t like South America verymuch, so she drifted on to another boat and there she met Gordon Cloade and told him all about her sad life. So they got married in New York and lived happily for a fortnight, and a little later he was killed by a bomb and she was left a large house, a lot of expensive jewellery, and an immense income.”
    â€œIt’s nice that the story has such a happy ending,” said Lynn.
    â€œYes,”