Natasha's Dream Read Online Free PDF

do,’ said Mr Gibson.
    ‘You have been miserably dirty too?’ Natasha showed astonishment. ‘I cannot believe it.’
    ‘It’s quite true,’ he said. It was, for he had known the trench warfare of Flanders. ‘Drink that milk, then go to sleep. You’ll be perfectly safe. Goodnight now, and we’ll talk again in the morning.’
    He left her to herself. She drank the milk that was laced with cognac, then switched off the light and lay in languorous content between the sheets. Just before blissful sleep claimed her, she said to herself, ‘If you’re lucky, Natasha Petrovna, there’ll be breakfast as well as more talk.’
    In a house not far from the centre of the city, an aloof-looking gentleman of aristocratic lineage regarded his visitor coldly.
    ‘You bungled it? Is that what you’re saying?’
    ‘No, I’m not saying that.’
    ‘You’ll permit me to say it for you?’ The gentleman was softly sarcastic.
    ‘I protest,’ said the caller, a tall man in a black raincoat and soft felt hat. ‘I selected the right time, the right place—’
    ‘But a little carelessness crept in?’
    ‘I was alone with her. The man who had passed her had gone, and there were no other people about. Then the damned interloper reappeared out of nowhere. I must point out it’s not the easiest thing, trying to arrange what has to look like suicide. It would be far simpler to cut her throat.’
    ‘Must you talk like that?’ The aloof gentleman showed distaste.
    ‘I’m a frank man.’
    ‘You were chosen for your willingness, not your frankness, I also asked for your discretion. Plain speaking can be dangerous. I must emphasize again, only you and I and one other know this solution has been decided on. The Council would never agree to it.’
    ‘But they’d be very relieved to hear she’d committed suicide.’
    ‘Of course,’ said the gentleman acidly. ‘Somethingthat looked like murder must be avoided. It would mean the police asking all kinds of questions. The Berlin police are very thorough when investigating murder. Our influence has its limits.’
    ‘I’ll try again.’
    ‘No. I dislike the fact that you were seen. I dislike even more the possibility that the man might put two and two together. He’ll have spoken to her, and God knows what she might have said to him. He’ll remember her. If she’s disposed of in the way most convenient to us, he may go to the police and question whether it was suicide or not. He’ll have a description of you, he’ll remember you as well as her. Therefore, leave things as they are for the moment. Just keep your eye on her. I don’t believe she’ll stay silent for ever, and if the Austrian is still alive and decides to tell his story, she may well confirm it. She’s not much more than a peasant, but peasants fear God and develop consciences. A conscience is a religious necessity amongst peasants. It’s something the rest of us can’t always afford.’
    ‘Are you sure we aren’t overrating her importance?’
    ‘Quite sure,’ said the disdainful gentleman.‘What does it matter if some impressionable people declare the woman is Anastasia? We can always produce sensibly minded people who’ll declare she isn’t. But if someone should say he can prove, with the aid of a witness, that Anastasia survived, then a court of adjudication would undoubtedly find in her favour. She would inherit everything: the crown, the fortune and a restored Imperial Russia. Well, we have that witness in our sights. Don’t lose her.’
    ‘I won’t. Does it occur to you, by the way, that she may have written her story down and lodged it somewhere?’
    ‘Yes, it has occurred to me, and I try not to think about it.’

Chapter Four
    The woman who had aroused so much interest and speculation throughout the world, and who was a patient at the moment in the well-equipped Mommsen Clinic of Berlin, had become very sick. Her left arm, badly injured years ago – at Ekaterinburg, she said – had never