A Sword For the Baron Read Online Free PDF Page A

at him accusingly. “You sold the other one for him, didn’t you? Just as you’re going to sell this one.”
    She had the door ajar as she spoke, and her voice was carried outside. Mannering saw a movement – possibly Larraby, but he thought he saw a splash of colour. The girl stared at him with a curious mixture of nervousness and defiance.
    â€œI neither saw nor touched the first sword, and I’ve told you why your uncle brought this one to me,” Mannering said. “Don’t keep telling yourself that the truth is false. You’ll get all twisted up in your mind if you do.”
    She pulled the door wider open and stepped out. Mannering saw Larraby, near the door, and Lorna just behind the manager, wearing a vivid red suit.
    Sara Gentian did not appear to see Lorna, but walked with long, anxious – angry? – strides towards the door.
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4
MYSTERY
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    â€œHallo, darling,” Lorna said lightly. “Doesn’t she love you?”
    â€œNot as much as I love you,” Mannering said. He put his hands at Lorna’s shoulders, shifted her to one side, said: “See you,” and hurried towards the foot of the winding staircase which led to the upper floors of this building, which was three centuries old. The stairs, twisting like a corkscrew, and without sufficient head clearance, made haste almost impossible. Mannering did the best he could. He strode across a storeroom and showroom set aside for the glittering elegance of Regency furniture, and reached the tiny window. On either side of this was a mirror, fixed so that he could see the street without being seen.
    Sara Gentian was walking quickly towards New Bond Street. There was vigour as well as vitality in her movements; she took long, raking strides. Her hair bobbed up and down with every step. There was something about the way she held her head up which suggested not arrogance but anger.
    A taxi passed the end of Hart Row; she hailed it, but it passed. She reached the corner, and turned as if to look towards Quinns. She was biting her underlip. Another taxi came along, and slowed down; the last Mannering saw of Sara was her slender leg drawing into the cab.
    Mannering turned round from the window.
    â€œI think she could get you into a lot of trouble,” Lorna said from the doorway. She came in, a tall, handsome woman, not statuesque but not slender in the Sara Gentian way. The red suit set off her colouring, the still dark hair and almost olive complexion, to perfection. She looked lovely. The suit jacket had a trim mink collar and trim mink cuffs – she could not have been better turned out if she had stepped straight out of Dior or Balmain.
    â€œI think she’s in a lot of trouble already,” Mannering countered.
    â€œSeriously, Sir Galahad?”
    Mannering left the window, went up to his wife, slid his arms round her, and gave her a hug.
    â€œI daren’t kiss you,” he said. “That make-up wasn’t meant for the likes of me. Where are you going?”
    â€œI’m going to have tea with Topsy Lewis,” Lorna announced, “and I might need some money.”
    â€œDoesn’t sound like tea, it sounds more like a shopping spree. How much?”
    â€œJust be generous, darling.”
    Mannering took out his wallet, which was nearly empty, put it back, and said: “We’ll ask Josh for some.” They went downstairs, holding hands, Lorna a step in front of Mannering; after twenty years of married life they could still behave like this, and take it for granted that they would. “Josh,” Mannering called, “can you find thirty or forty pounds in change? Mrs Mannering wants to cash a cheque.”
    â€œMean brute,” Lorna complained.
    â€œOf course,” replied Larraby. “Will forty be enough, Mrs Mannering?”
    â€œI think so,” Lorna said. “As I’m spending my own money.” She led the way into the office, but