Read Online The Old Vengeful by Anthony Price - Free Book Online Page A

curtains. “Hence the precaution … though fortunately your windows are burglar-locked, and I’ve wedged the back door … so I don’t think we’ll be disturbed.”
    “But… they got in. “She heard her voice tremble at the thought of the snake-man having other animals with him.
    “But they had all the time in the world—and an unattended house.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry.”
    Don’t worry? Don ’ t worry ! Elizabeth hugged herself even more tightly as the awfulness of her situation possessed her: it wasn’t a nightmare—he was here, she wasn’t dreaming him, and he was waiting for someone—it was a daymare, and it was real: there was a dead man lying behind the desk in the study — and she dared not imagine what he might have been doing if he hadn ’ t been killed … and there was another man desperately wounded, lying somewhere else —
    “What about the man you shot—the other man?” She clutched at the only straw she could find. “Shouldn’t you phone for an ambulance?”
    “He’ll keep for a while,” said Dr Mitchell brutally. “He’s not bleeding to death, and he’s a big strong fellow. Have another drink, Miss Loftus—your teeth are chattering.”
    Elizabeth watched him pour. “I’m cold—I’m hot outside, and cold inside … I don’t know that I should—“ she looked up at him “—I don’t know anything any more, Dr Mitchell… I don’t even know if you are Dr Mitchell—who are you?”
    “Why not have another try at calling me ‘Paul’?”
    She drank, and this time it didn’t burn her throat.
    “Well?”
    She wanted to be reassured—to stop fighting, to stop thinking … just to let go. “Paul.”
    “There! That didn’t hurt at all—did it! Everything is going to be all right—don’t be afraid, and don’t worry.”
    She knew that none of that could come true just by wanting it to be so. Nothing was all right, and she was still afraid.
    But his voice was soothing. “Paul …”
    “Yes, Elizabeth? May I call you ‘Elizabeth’?” He pulled a stool across the floor and sat on it, coming down to her eye-level. “What do you want to know, Elizabeth?”
    Although he was close to her it wasn’t easy to focus on him in the feeble yellow light. Yet she felt absurdly grateful to him now, just for coming down to her level—for being human just for a moment.
    “P-please … can you t-tell me …” she had to concentrate hard to hold her glass steady and to keep the coat wrapped round her at the same time “… why all this is happening?”
    “Well… I should have thought you knew the answer to that much better than I do, Elizabeth,” he chided her gently.
    “But I don’t—I don’t!”
    “Well… somebody thinks you do. In fact, somebody is very sure that you do … so perhaps you do.”
    “But I don’t—honestly.” She shook her head. “I really don’t … Paul.”
    “I believe you, Elizabeth.” He nodded encouragingly. “But, you know … sometimes we know things without knowing that we know them. That’s happened to me—oh, lots of times.”
    Elizabeth grappled with the possibility. But it took her back hideously to the study.
    “It’s all right—they can’t touch you now—“ he started to put out his hand, and then draw it back quickly as though he knew not only what she was thinking of, but even sensed how her flesh crawled at the mention of the word “touch” “—I’m here now, and you’re safe.”
    “Yes.” She rocked backwards and forwards, and then steadied herself, and took another warming gulp of brandy.
    “Tell me what happened.” He leaned forward and poured her some more brandy. “Telling helps, while it’s fresh in your mind—it gets it off your chest.”
    She tightened the old raincoat around her. “They grabbed me as I came in—they just grabbed me …”
    “Uh-huh. And tied you up. But what did they want?”
    “They said … he said … he asked me questions.”
    “About what?”
    She frowned.