Death in Kashmir Read Online Free PDF Page B

seen her look like that before,’ said Janet. ‘She was always so calm and good-tempered … even at the worst times. I asked her if he’d been a friend of hers, and she said no, she’d only met him once: he’d been in the room while she was being given her orders. But she couldn’t help wondering if he had been on his way to meet us, because she didn’t believe the accident story. He wasn’t the kind to make that sort of silly mistake.’
    â€˜But surely, if the police——?’ began Sarah breathlessly.
    â€˜If one of–of our people dies in an accident, we let it go at that. Officially, anyway. That may sound callous, but it’s a lot safer all round than asking a flock of questions that can only lead to embarrassing answers. Cousin Hil—Mrs Matthews—said we mustn’t worry, because if he had been the one, and on his way here, someone else would be sent instead. But–but I worried. I couldn’t help thinking that if it wasn’t an accident, and he’d been killed to stop him coming here, then–then the people who did it might know about us. And that if anything were to happen to us, no one would ever know what–what we knew.’
    When the last leaves had fallen and cat-ice began to form on the lakes, the two of them had abandoned their houseboats and moved into Nedou’s Hotel in Srinagar, to wait with ever-increasing anxiety for an answer to that urgent call for help. Knowing only too well that with every day that passed it would become more and more dangerous for anyone to answer it, because at that season of the year no casual visitor in their right mind cares to undertake the long, cold and frequently hazardous journey along the winding mountain roads that lead to the valley. Unless they have a very good reason for doing so. One that leaps to the eye or is easily explained! Though even then such rare wildfowl are apt to be conspicuous.
    One such reason accounted for Mrs Matthews and her young cousin being able to take up residence, and without causing so much as a raised eyebrow, in the almost empty hotel where, apart from the suites occupied by a few elderly permanent residents living on their pensions, only a handful of rooms were kept open for the use of occasional visitors: the fact that both women were skiing enthusiasts.
    Like the watercolour sketching, this had been a point that had not been overlooked by their employers; and Gulmarg, the little summer resort that had become one of the favourite playgrounds of the Raj and the chief meeting-place of the Ski Club of India, lay within easy reach of Srinagar—a car drive of twenty-four miles to the village of Tanmarg on the insteps of the mountains, followed by a four-mile ride on the back of a sure-footed hill pony up the steep and stony bridlepath that zig-zags upward through the forest, bringing the visitor to the shallow bowl of Gulmarg which lies in the lap of the tall ridge of Apharwat.
    Both women had brought their skis with them, and everyone in the hotel was soon aware that they had skied in Europe before the war, and on several occasions since then at meetings of the Ski Club in Gulmarg, whenever there had been sufficient members to make it worthwhile opening the snow-bound hotel for ten days or so. ‘You don’t find people coming up here to ski on their own,’ explained Janet, ‘because it isn’t worth opening it for just two or three people. And skiing on the level ground in the valley isn’t much sport.’
    Two days after they had moved into the hotel in Srinagar, and while they were becoming seriously worried over the lack of response to their ‘Mayday’ signal, a violent snowstorm had swept in from the north; blocking the passes, closing the Banihal route and both the Murree and Abbottabad roads into the valley, and ensuring that no plane could cross the mountains to land on Srinagar’s still somewhat makeshift