Read Online Red Shadow by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online Page B

shivered slightly. “Dear me—what a draught! I feel sure that you ought not to be in a draught like this. I wonder if that door is shut.” He pushed back his chair as he spoke, and disappeared behind the screen.
    The door was not open; on the contrary it was closed. It was closed, but not latched. When a door is closed, it can very easily be pushed ajar; the merest touch will do it. The merest touch will latch it. Mr Rimington applied the flat of a large hand to the middle panel of the door. The latch clicked sharply, and he returned to his seat.
    â€œWell, now we will begin. I am Mr Hallingdon’s solicitor. And you are Mr Hallingdon’s heiress. You know that?”
    â€œYes.” The word was just audible. She was watching her hands and the amber fringe of her shawl.
    â€œYes,” said Mr Rimington. “I wrote to you. You received the letter, of course?”
    Laura did not answer. She heard Vassili Stefanoff’s voice saying, “You are Bertram Hallingdon’s heiress.” She couldn’t remember anything at all about a letter. A light shiver ran over her.
    Mr Rimington went on speaking.
    â€œI received a reply from Dr Stevens. He said that you had married his cousin, Mr Basil Stevens, and that you were lying ill at this address, with himself and a nurse in charge. He stated that your husband had been obliged to go abroad on urgent business, and he enclosed a copy of your marriage certificate. I take it that all this is correct?”
    Very faintly Laura said, “Yes.”
    â€œI don’t want to tire you, but I suppose you can listen to me for a little?”
    He paused and looked at her with a half formed wonder as to whether his words were really reaching her. What kind of intelligence was there behind her pale unmoving features? The beautiful line of the lips did not change. The eyes were hidden by the down-dropped lids whose lashes lay dark upon the colourless cheeks. There was nothing to betray what she thought, or how much she understood.
    Mr Rimington frowned and raised his voice.
    â€œMr Hallingdon was a very rich man.” Then, abruptly, “That doesn’t interest you?”
    Laura’s lashes lifted. He saw her eyes, beautiful and most forlornly indifferent.
    â€œNot very much,” she said. The line of her lips melted into the merest hint of a smile.
    â€œThat,” said Mr Rimington, “is because you have been ill. When you are stronger, you will find that wealth has its compensations. Now there’s not the slightest necessity for you to worry about anything at present. The will has to be proved, and these legal matters take time. If you want money, it will be at your disposal, but you won’t have to trouble yourself about your responsibilities for quite a while to come. You will, I hope, be completely restored to health before there is any need for me to trouble you with business matters.”
    A look of relief passed over Laura’s face. The truce held. She had not to make any decision or to sign anything. It would be months before she could be called upon to fulfil her pledges.
    Mr Rimington was opening an attaché case. He took out of it a long envelope with a bright green seal.
    â€œMy reason for coming down here this afternoon was not to trouble you about business, but to hand you this letter at Mr Hallingdon’s request. His instructions were that I should give it to you personally as soon as possible after his decease.” He laid the envelope on Laura’s pale hands, closed the attaché case, and pushed back his chair. “I won’t stay now. I hope I haven’t tired you.”
    He touched her cold fingers and said good-bye. Then, as he was going, a thought appeared to strike him, for he turned back again.
    â€œDoes your husband expect to be away for long?”
    The colour rushed into Laura’s cheeks. The beauty which it gave her quite astonished Mr Rimington. It also conveyed a