Damsel in Distress Read Online Free PDF Page B

him in the middle of nowhere!
    â€œI must make a telephone call,” he said to the butler, new since Daisy’s time, who met him in the marble-floored front hall with its twin semi-circular staircases. “At once.”
    â€œCertainly, sir.” The butler, no doubt forewarned by Lord Dalrymple, was not visibly perturbed by the arrival of a guest in his shirtsleeves, filthy and encrusted with dried blood. “If you will be so good as to …”
    But Lady Dalrymple came hurrying down the stairs, followed by her husband.
    An angular woman, an inch or two taller than his lordship, she looked Phillip up and down po-faced, but she said civilly enough, “Mr. Petrie, I am so sorry to hear you have had an accident. Edgar was not certain whether we ought to send for the doctor?”
    â€œNo, thank you, Lady Dalrymple. I’m much better already.”
    â€œAt least you must have some sort of dressing on your head.”
    â€œAnd hands, dear,” said Lord Dalrymple.
    â€œAnd hands. Let me see them.”
    Reduced to a schoolboy, Phillip obediently held out his hands, himself examining them for the first time. They looked
far worse than they felt. “I’m afraid I’m rather a mess,” he apologized.
    Lady Dalrymple was too polite to agree, but she said, “I shall see to the dressings when you have bathed. Lowecroft, have Mr. Petrie shown to the Blue Bedroom, and a bath drawn immediately.” She glanced doubtfully from Phillip to her considerably shorter husband. “I suppose you have a change of clothes at Malvern Grange, or in your motor, if it was not too badly damaged to retrieve your luggage?”
    So she assumed he had pranged his car. Wondering for a moment what had become of the dearly loved Swift, Phillip seized his chance. “At home, yes, but I don’t want to worry the mater by sending for clothes. Any old thing will do for the present. But if you don’t mind, before I take a bath I’ll make a ’phone call.”
    â€œYes, of course. Your parents will be worrying. Lowecroft, show Mr. Petrie to the telephone.”
    Phillip didn’t explain that his parents, far from requiring notice of his visits, expected him when they saw him. His eldest brother, with wife and children, and his youngest sister all lived at Malvern Grange. One more in the house was neither here nor there. He had no intention of ringing them up.
    The butler ushered him into Lord Dalrymple’s den. The deep leather chairs and red Turkey carpet were unchanged since the old days. Phillip had a vague, uncomfortable sense of being in a museum, though any major changes might have disturbed him equally.
    â€œThe instrument, sir.” Lowecroft crossed to the knee-hole desk, where the telephone still stood. Gravely he took a handkerchief from his pocket and spread it over the chair. “No offence, sir, but her ladyship is particular. Will that be all?”
    â€œYes, thank you, and I would like a bath as soon as I’m finished.”
    Phillip knew the Abbey Hotel’s telephone number by heart.
He had spent enough ’phoning there in the past few weeks to condemn him to lunch daily at the A.B.C. instead of the Piccadilly Grill. Lifting the earpiece, he waited impatiently for the operator to answer.
    The hotel’s number was engaged. “Will you ring back later?” the girl asked him.
    â€œNo, I’ll hold on. Please put me through as soon as you can. It’s urgent.”
    â€œIf it’s an emergency, sir, I can ask the other party to get off the line.”
    â€œN-no … .”
    He was tempted, but the instinct which had stopped him blabbing the whole story to the Dalrymples took over. Claim an emergency and people would require explanations. It was up to Arbuckle and the police to decide whether the kidnapping should be broadcast or kept quiet.
    Which raised another question: Should he notify the police while he waited to get hold of