While the Light Lasts by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

those people their hour comes. ’
    Was this her hour? Was this her temptation? Had it come insidiously disguised as a duty? She was Clare Halliwell, a Christian, in love and charity with all men–and women. If she were to tell Gerald, she must be quite sure that only impersonal motives guided her. For the present she would say nothing.
    She paid her bill for luncheon and drove away, feeling an indescribable lightening of spirit. Indeed, she felt happier than she had done for a long time. She felt glad that she had had the strength to resist temptation, to do nothing mean or unworthy. Just fora second it flashed across her mind that it might be a sense of power that had so lightened her spirits, but she dismissed the idea as fantastic.
    III
    By Tuesday night she was strengthened in her resolve. The revelation could not come through her. She must keep silence. Her own secret love for Gerald made speech impossible. Rather a high-minded view to take? Perhaps; but it was the only one possible for her.
    She arrived at the Grange in her own little car. Sir Gerald’s chauffeur was at the front door to drive it round to the garage after she had alighted, as the night was a wet one. He had just driven off when Clare remembered some books which she had borrowed and had brought with her to return. She called out, but the man did not hear her. The butler ran out after the car.
    So, for a minute or two, Clare was alone in the hall, close to the door of the drawing-room which the butler had just unlatched prior to announcing her. Those inside the room, however, knew nothing of her arrival, and so it was that Vivien’s voice, high pitched–not quite the voice of a lady–rang out clearly and distinctly.
    â€˜Oh, we’re only waiting for Clare Halliwell. You must know her–lives in the village–supposed to be one of the local belles, but frightfully unattractive really. She tried her best to catch Gerald, but he wasn’t having any.
    â€˜Oh, yes, darling’–this in answer to a murmured protest from her husband. ‘She did–you mayn’t be aware of the fact–but she did her very utmost. Poor old Clare! A good sort, but such a dump!’
    Clare’s face went dead white, her hands, hanging against her sides, clenched themselves in anger such as she had never known before. At that moment she could have murdered Vivien Lee. It was only by a supreme physical effort that she regained control of herself. That, and the half-formed thought that she held it in her power to punish Vivien for those cruel words.
    The butler had returned with the books. He opened the door, announced her, and in another moment she was greeting a roomful of people in her usual pleasant manner.
    Vivien, exquisitely dressed in some dark wine colour that showed off her white fragility, was particularly affectionate and gushing. They didn’t see half enough of Clare. She, Vivien, was going to learn golf, and Clare must come out with her on the links.
    Gerald was very attentive and kind. Though he had no suspicion that she had overheard his wife’s words,he had some vague idea of making up for them. He was very fond of Clare, and he wished Vivien wouldn’t say the things she did. He and Clare had been friends, nothing more–and if there was an uneasy suspicion at the back of his mind that he was shirking the truth in that last statement, he put it away from him.
    After dinner the talk fell on dogs, and Clare recounted Rover’s accident. She purposely waited for a lull in the conversation to say:
    â€˜â€¦so, on Saturday, I took him to Skippington.’
    She heard the sudden rattle of Vivien Lee’s coffee-cup on the saucer, but she did not look at her–yet.
    â€˜To see that man, Reeves?’
    â€˜Yes. He’ll be all right, I think. I had lunch at the County Arms afterwards. Rather a decent little pub.’ She turned now to Vivien. ‘Have you ever stayed there?’
    If