In Spite of Thunder

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Authors: John Dickson Carr
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    “Sir,” Dr. Fell intoned with stately thunder, “I myself can refrain from asking questions in the event of necessity. However! In one word, what explains all this?”
    “In one word: vitriol.”
    “Oh, ah?”
    “That’s not the only word, but it will do. You don’t put vitriol into a perfume-bottle as a joke.”
    Dr. Fell’s eyes slid sideways.
    “Not customarily, I agree. But I find the word vitriol less interesting than … harrumph! No matter! Go and see to the young lady.”
    From the dance-floor, which was now invisible, a thump and angry cries rocked the house as the Apache shot feet-first into another party. Brian, butting his way through the crowd, emerged at the edge of the dance-floor.
    Momentarily he was blinded by a second spotlight wheeling into his eyes from the gold and crimson stage. He stood there, shielding his eyes, amid a haze of cosmetic-dust and tobacco-smoke. With several conflicting feelings he watched Audrey at her ring-side table.
    There could be no doubt she was enjoying herself hugely.
    Though perhaps a little nervous in addition to being rapt and gleeful, she bent forward as the dancers stamped back for their final gyrations. Brian stared at her. Circling round the edge, he stopped at the table, moved in front of it, and towered above her.
    “Oh!” said Audrey, almost as though she had seen a ghost.
    “Good evening again,” said Brian, and sat down in the chair opposite.
    “Really! What are you doing here?”
    “Looking for you.”
    “How on earth did you find us?”
    “Philip said you were having dinner at the Richemond, and then going on to a night-club. There aren’t all that many places to choose from.”
    “I mean,” and two spots of colour burned in Audrey’s cheeks, “ what are you doing here? What do you want with me?”
    “I’m here to tell you something.”
    “Oh?”
    “ Yes. You are not going to visit Eve Ferrier, either now or at any other time. Tomorrow morning I am putting you on a plane for London.”
    “Now, really!” said Audrey. Her mouth fell open. “And what if I won’t do it, Mr. Brian Innes? What if I don’t choose to obey you? What will you do then?”
    In the background, where the Apache groped towards his fellow-dancer, the tall blonde caught him a ringing wallop across the face and sent him sprawling as the music soared to its end. Brian pointed.
    “ That ,” he answered. “Which is a great deal less than you deserve.”
    The dancers, panting, bowed at the end of their number. A torrent of applause burst over the tables, drowning out what Audrey might have been saying. But she said nothing; she sat bolt upright and stared back at him. As the dancers scampered back up on the stage, bowing, the curtains swirled together and hid them. Every light in the room went out to mark the end of the first show. By this time Audrey was speaking, but he couldn’t hear her.
    A long drum-roll was followed by the noise of shifting chairs, shifting people, a babble of talk. Ten seconds later the house-lights glowed out softly against a painted ceiling. Audrey had stood up, facing him across a silvered bucket with a champagne-bottle.
    “As soon as Phil comes back from answering a ’phone-call,” Audrey cried, “we’re leaving here.”
    “You think so?”
    “Really, now!—”
    “He isn’t coming back”
    “I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, but it doesn’t matter in the least. I’ll go alone.”
    “Oh, no, you won’t. Sit down.”
    Audrey sat down.
    “You and I,” Brian went on, taking the champagne-bottle out of its cooler and inspecting it, “are going to get a few things quite clear. Here.” Comparatively little was gone from the bottle; he filled Audrey’s glass.“People in love don’t drink much, do they?”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Don’t you know?”
    “No, of course I don’t! You—you say Philip’s not coming back? Why ever not?”
    “Because I persuaded him not to see you for

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