A Christmas Odyssey Read Online Free PDF Page B

butler. He recognized Squeaky immediately.
    “Ah, Mr. Robinson. You have some news?” He looked at Crow. “I am afraid I do not know you, sir, but if you are a friend of Mr. Robinson, then you are welcome.”
    “Crow. Doctor, or almost,” Crow said a little sheepishly. There was a note of longing in his voice, as if the “almost” had cost him more than he wanted to admit.
    “Henry Rathbone. How do you do, sir? Please come inside. Have you eaten? If not, I can offeryou toast, a very agreeable Belgian pâté, or Brie, and perhaps some apple tart and cream. Hot or cold, as you prefer.”
    Crow could not keep the smile from lighting his face.
    Squeaky wanted that supper so badly he could taste it in his mouth already. Guilt at the news he brought overwhelmed him, but only for a couple of seconds.
    “Thank you, Mr. Rathbone,” he replied quickly, just in case Crow had any other ideas. “That would be very nice indeed.” He took a step forward into the hall as the butler pulled the door wider to let him pass.
    They sat next to the fire in the sitting room. Squeaky was fascinated first by the number of books in the cases in the walls, and then by the delicate beauty of the two small paintings hung over the mantel. Both were seascapes with an almost luminous quality to the water. He felt Rathbone’s eyes on him as he stared, and then the heat of embarrassment burned up his face.
    “Boningtons,” Henry said quietly. “They’ve always held a particular appeal for me. I’m glad you like them.”
    “Yes.” Squeaky had no idea what else to say. Hewas even more out of his depth than he had expected to be, and it made him highly uncomfortable. Suddenly he did not know what to do with his hands, or feet.
    Crow cleared his throat and stared at Squeaky.
    Henry looked at him, waiting.
    Squeaky plunged in. Better to get it over with. “Thing is,” he began tentatively. “Thing is … we found word of Mr. Wentworth.”
    Henry leaned forward eagerly. “You did? Already? That’s a most excellent start.”
    Squeaky felt the sweat prickle on his skin. He was making a complete pig’s ear of this. He didn’t even mean to be deceptive, except for the best of reasons, and here he was doing it. Respectability had put him out of practice of saying anything the way he meant it.
    “Thing is,” he began again. “His father’s right, he’s picked up with some very bad company indeed. Woman called Sadie, a real bad lot. Seems he’s lost his wits over her. Got tangled up with a rival, and now there in’t anything daft enough or bad enough he won’t do to impress her. Even damn near killed someone.”
    He drew in a deep breath. “Mr. Rathbone, he in’t going to come back as long as she’ll give ’imthe sort of attention he wants, an’ she’s playin’ him off against this other young fool, clear as day to anyone with eyes in their heads. It’s a world you don’t know, sir, an’ don’t want to.”
    Henry looked sad, but not surprised. “I see,” he said quietly. “It seems to be as bad as his father feared.” He looked across at Crow. “Do I assume that you agree, Doctor?”
    Crow blushed, not for the question, but for the courtesy title to which he had no right. He faced him squarely. “Yes sir. I’m afraid he’s sunk to the kind of place people don’t come back from. It isn’t just the drinking, although that’ll get to you in time. It’s the violence. It seems this young woman thrives on it. The sight and smell of blood excites her, the idea that men will kill each other over her.”
    “Are you saying that we shouldn’t try?” Henry asked him.
    Squeaky drew in his breath to tell him that that was exactly what they were saying, then he saw Crow’s face and changed his mind.
    “Yes sir,” Crow answered gravely. “It’s the man’s own heart that’s keeping him there. I … I suppose if we can find him, we could tell him that his father wants him back, but I don’t think it’ll make any