Dead Man Riding Read Online Free PDF

you mean by a problem.’
    â€˜He doesn’t want the whole pack of us, is that it?’
    I thought I’d understood. If his uncle had withdrawn the offer of hospitality when faced with an invasion by four men and three women, Alan was in a dilemma. It would have been sensible to break the news to us before we left Oxford but that would have meant losing his chance to spend most of the summer with Imogen, and when was a man in love ever sensible?
    â€˜Oh no, he’s quite happy for us all to stay. Only…’
    â€˜Only what?’
    He licked his lips and looked back along the platform again, though Imogen was nowhere near within hearing.
    â€˜You won’t tell her?’
    â€˜If there’s a problem she’ll find out soon enough.’
    â€˜There might be nothing to find out. It probably isn’t anything … His idea of a joke.’
    â€˜Suppose you just show me his telegram?’
    He took it out of his pocket and slipped it into my hand like a man passing a bribe. I opened it and read BRING YOUR WHOLE TRIBE AND WELCOME. My brain was just registering that I’d misjudged him when my eyes took in the next phrase – PROVIDED THEY DON’T MIND STAYING WITH A MURDERER. I stared at Alan as he held out his hand for the telegram.
    â€˜What on earth does he mean?’
    â€˜I haven’t the faintest idea.’

Chapter Three
    W E ARRIVED AT THE LOCAL STATION IN THE early evening, tired from a long day’s travelling, skin prickly from railway upholstery and clothes smelling of engine smoke. The train went on its way down to the coalmines and the coast and left us standing on the platform while Nathan and an old porter organised our pile of luggage. There seemed a lot of it for seven people intent on living simply. As well as the knapsacks and cases of books I counted at least three food hampers and a small crate of bottled ale. The porter heaved three cases and a hamper on to his trolley and looked towards the empty station yard.
    â€˜Where to, sir?’
    Nathan looked at Alan. Alan looked worried.
    â€˜There isn’t a cart or anything to meet us?’
    â€˜Where from, sir?’
    â€˜Studholme Hall. Mr Beston’s place.’
    The porter’s face was weather-beaten and as wrinkled as a hippo’s hide. It wasn’t the kind of face that changed expression easily but I had a feeling he didn’t like what he’d heard.
    â€˜No sir.’
    â€˜Is there anywhere we can get a cab?’
    â€˜Cab’s away to Carlisle. Thank you sir.’
    He accepted a tip and strolled away. Alan called to him to wait, but he didn’t seem to hear.
    â€˜We can’t stay here all night,’ Imogen said.
    Meredith looked amused. ‘We could if we really had to, but there may be alternatives.’
    I guessed that he was deliberately holding back. As the oldest one of us he might have taken the lead, but it was his pupil’s party. At the moment Alan looked far from happy about that, but he took the hint.
    â€˜Kit and I’ll walk up to the town. There’ll probably be a pub with a fly or something to hire.’
    He and Kit went off at a good pace. The remaining five of us finished off the strawberries and lemonade and then Nathan got his pipe going, always a considerable performance. He smoked a particular kind of tobacco mix that a shop in Oxford compounded to his recipe. It smelt of old rope and overripe apples and he’d brought a dozen tins with him. Once the pipe was fuming away to his liking he produced a length of string from his bulging pocket and did tricks to entertain us – knotting his own wrists together until it looked as if they’d take hours to undo, then releasing the whole cat’s cradle with one tug of his teeth, pipe still in mouth. Only Midge managed to work up much interest and while he was showing her how the trick was done Alan and Kit came back. Alan looked angry and, I thought, a little