In Spite of Thunder Read Online Free PDF

it.
    “The whole thing was a cry of horror. Recently in Geneva, she said, she had heard a rumour so appalling that she couldn’t believe her ears. Certain people appeared to be whispering that the death of poor Mr. Matthews, at Berchtesgaden in ’39, hadn’t been an accident and she , she of all people, was suspected of dirty work. Not once in seventeen years had she ever dreamed of this possibility.”
    Brian stared at him. “She said …?”
    “Yes!”
    “But she couldn’t have believed that!”
    “Couldn’t she? I wonder. Now oblige me,” and the pudgy hands made a fussed gesture, “by letting me repeat her story in the letter. On that dreadful day at Berchtesgaden (I quote her own words) she had been standing at least a dozen feet away from Mr. Matthews when he cried out and fell. Scharführer Johst and two other men immediately said they saw it happen. How could she anticipate suspicion? It did happen.
    “This was all past and gone; it might be very laughable. But it troubled her. She was writing to ‘that nice girl,’ Miss Paula Catford, in care of Miss Catford’s publisher. Meanwhile, couldn’t I (strictly between ourselves), couldn’t I reassure her and say I saw it happen? And she was, mine sincerely and with a passionate flourish of the pen, Eve Ferrier.”
    There was a pause.
    Hathaway made a face and spread out his hands.
    “Well, I couldn’t say that. I rather doubted Miss Catford could say it. So I wrote to Mrs. Ferrier and told her so.”
    “And then?”
    “Her reply, by air-mail return, was more passionate still. Why, she asked, hadn’t I said as much at the time? She was in a frightful position; her good name might be at stake. Could I possibly arrange to visit her for the week beginning Friday, tenth August, so that we might talk the matter over? She would try to get Miss Catford too.
    “In my letter of acceptance (and who wouldn’t have accepted?), I refrained from pointing out a few obvious things. When you are the guest of a roaring Nazi amid his hatchet-men, and he declares somebody fell over a parapet by accident, you’re apt to remain discreetly silent. You don’t say, ‘My dear Scharführer, draw it mild; that’s only another of your thumping lies.’ Or I don’t say it, anyway. I also refrained from asking Mrs. Ferrier what there was to talk over. But I did make one obvious move.”
    “Oh? What was that?”
    “Why, curse it,” retorted Hathaway, “I tried to get in touch with you . I tried it as soon as I received her first letter. And you weren’t in Geneva.”
    “I was in Paris.”
    “Yes; so I eventually discovered. The point is, who started that rumour about a suspicion of murder? I’m not proud of visiting Berchtesgaden; I told the story to nobody except you. And—and one other person. How many people have you told?”
    “Only Audrey Page. Tonight, and at her father’s insistence.”
    “You’re sure of that?”
    “Absolutely. Even then—”
    “Even then, am I to assume, you told her only because you have fallen for the young lady?”
    Brian smiled, though he was smiling against his feelings and arguing against his convictions.
    “That doesn’t matter.”
    “Indeed? What spirit you have!”
    “I mean the question doesn’t arise even if it were true. Audrey has fallen very hard for someone else.”
    “For young Philip? H’m.” Hathaway struck one finger on the table. “Then you’re not at all alarmed about her safety?”
    “There’s no actual reason to be. Mrs. Ferrier’s letters to you may be those of an innocent woman trying to protect herself from slander. She invited Audrey as long ago as last winter, a casual invitation to a casual friend; and she made it definite about a month ago, at the same time—” Brian stopped abruptly.
    “A casual invitation, eh? And Mrs. Ferrier made it definite a month ago, when she couldn’t think about anything except a rumour of murder? And there’s nothing suspicious in that circumstance either?