Passenger to Frankfurt Read Online Free PDF

And also perhaps why?' Yes, it was interesting. He sat down in a chair and thought about it. Presently his eyes strayed to the table by the bed on which sat rather pertly, a small furry panda. It started a train of thought. He went to the telephone and rang a number.
    'That you, Aunt Matilda?' he said. 'Stafford here.'
    'Ah, my dear boy, so you're back. I'm so glad. I read in the paper they'd got cholera in Malaya yesterday, at least I think it was Malaya. I always get so mixed up with those places. I hope you're coming to see me soon? Don't pretend you're busy. You can't be busy all the time. One really only accepts that sort of thing from tycoons, people of industry, you know, in the middle of mergers and take-overs. I never know what it all really means. It used to mean doing your work properly but now it means it's all tied up with atom bombs and factories in concrete,' said Aunt Matilda, rather wildly. 'And those terrible computers that get all one's figures wrong, to say nothing of making them the wrong shape. Really, they have made life so difficult for us nowadays. You wouldn't believe the things they have done to my bank account. And to my postal address too. Well, I suppose I've lived too long.'
    'Don't you believe it! All right if I come down next week?'
    'Come down tomorrow if you like. I've got the vicar coming to dinner, but I can easily put him off.'
    'Oh, look here, no need to do that.'
    'Yes there is, every need. He's a most irritating man and he wants a new organ too. This one does quite well as it is. I mean the trouble is with the organist, really, not the organ. An absolutely abominable musician. The vicar's sorry for him because he lost his mother whom he was very fond of. But really, being fond of your mother doesn't make you play the organ any better, does it? I mean, one has to look at things as they are.'
    'Quite right. It will have to be next week - I've got a few things to see to. How's Sybil?'
    'Dear child! Very naughty but such fun.'
    'I brought her home a woolly panda,' said Sir Stafford Nye.
    'Well, that was very nice of you, dear.'
    'I hope she'll like it,' said Sir Stafford, catching the panda's eye and feeling slightly nervous.
    'Well, at any rate, she's got very good manners,' said Aunt Matilda, which seemed a somewhat doubtful answer, the meaning of which Sir Stafford did not quite appreciate.
    Aunt Matilda suggested likely trains for next week with the warning that they very often did not run, or changed their plans, and also commanded that he should bring her down a Camembert cheese and half a Stilton.
    'Impossible to get anything down here now. Our own grocer - such a nice man, so thoughtful and such good taste in what we all liked - turned suddenly into a supermarket, six times the size, all rebuilt, baskets and wire trays to carry round and try to fill up with things you don't want and mothers always losing their babies, and crying and having hysterics. Most exhausting. Well, I'll be expecting you, dear boy.' She rang off.
    The telephone rang again at once.
    'Hullo? Stafford? Eric Pugh here. Heard you were back from Malaya - what about dining tonight?'
    'Like to very much.'
    'Good - Limpits Club - eight-fifteen?'
    Mrs Worrit panted into the room as Sir Stafford replaced the receiver.
    'A gentleman downstairs wanting to see you, sir,' she said. 'At least I mean, I suppose he's that. Anyway he said he was sure you wouldn't mind.'
    'What's his name?'
    'Horsham, sir, like the place on the way to Brighton.'
    'Horsham.' Sir Stafford Nye was a little surprised.
    He went out of his bedroom, down a half flight of stairs that led to the big sitting-room on the lower floor. Mrs Worrit had made no mistake. Horsham it was, looking as he had looked half an hour ago, stalwart, trustworthy, cleft chin, rubicund cheeks, bushy grey moustache and a general air of imperturbability.
    'Hope you don't mind,' he said agreeably, rising to his feet.
    'Hope I don't mind what?' said Sir Stafford Nye.
    'Seeing me