Cat Among the Pigeons Read Online Free PDF Page B

enough to realize that he was making a telephone call. She couldn’t catch what was said, but it sounded lighthearted—casual. Then she heard the door close.
    The woman waited a few minutes. Then she opened her door. At the far end of the passage an Arab was flicking idly with a feather duster. He turned the corner out of sight.
    The woman slipped quickly to the door of the next room. It was locked, but she had expected that. The hairpin she had with her and the blade of a small knife did the job quickly and expertly.
    She went in, pushing the door to behind her. She picked up the note. The flap had only been stuck down lightly and opened easily. She read the note, frowning. There was no explanation there.
    She sealed it up, put it back, and walked across the room.
    There, with her hand outstretched, she was disturbed by voices through the window from the terrace below.
    One was a voice that she knew to be the occupier of the room in which she was standing. A decided didactic voice, fully assured of itself.
    She darted to the window.
    Below on the terrace, Joan Sutcliffe, accompanied by her daughter Jennifer, a pale solid child of fifteen, was telling the world and a tall unhappy looking Englishman from the British Consulate just what she thought of the arrangements he had come to make.
    â€œBut it’s absurd! I never heard such nonsense. Everything’s perfectly quiet here and everyone quite pleasant. I think it’s all a lot of panicky fuss.”
    â€œWe hope so, Mrs. Sutcliffe, we certainly hope so. But H.E. feels that the responsibility is such—”
    Mrs. Sutcliffe cut him short. She did not propose to consider the responsibility of ambassadors.
    â€œWe’ve a lot of baggage, you know. We were going home by long sea—next Wednesday. The sea voyage will be good for Jennifer. The doctor said so. I really must absolutely decline to alter all my arrangements and be flown to England in this silly flurry.”
    The unhappy looking man said encouragingly that Mrs. Sutcliffe and her daughter could be flown, not to England, but to Aden and catch their boat there.
    â€œWith our baggage?”
    â€œYes, yes, that can be arranged. I’ve got a car waiting—a station wagon. We can load everything right away.”
    â€œOh well.” Mrs. Sutcliffe capitulated. “I suppose we’d better pack.”
    â€œAt once, if you don’t mind.”
    The woman in the bedroom drew back hurriedly. She took a quick glance at the address on a luggage label on one of the suitcases. Then she slipped quickly out of the room and back into her own just as Mrs. Sutcliffe turned the corner of the corridor.
    The clerk from the office was running after her.
    â€œYour brother, the Squadron Leader, has been here, Mrs. Sutcliffe. He went up to your room. But I think that he has left again. You must just have missed him.”
    â€œHow tiresome,” said Mrs. Sutcliffe. “Thank you,” she said to the clerk and went on to Jennifer, “I suppose Bob’s fussing too. I can’t see any sign of disturbance myself in the streets. This door’s unlocked. How careless these people are.”
    â€œPerhaps it was Uncle Bob,” said Jennifer.
    â€œI wish I hadn’t missed him … Oh, there’s a note.” She tore it open.
    â€œAt any rate Bob isn’t fussing,” she said triumphantly. “He obviously doesn’t know a thing about all this. Diplomatic windup, that’s all it is. How I hate trying to pack in the heat of the day. Thisroom’s like an oven. Come on, Jennifer, get your things out of the chest of drawers and the wardrobe. We must just shove everything in anyhow. We can repack later.”
    â€œI’ve never been in a revolution,” said Jennifer thoughtfully.
    â€œI don’t expect you’ll be in one this time,” said her mother sharply. “It will be just as I say. Nothing will happen.”
    Jennifer looked