The Hunt for Sonya Dufrette Read Online Free PDF Page A

pretending. She didn’t think she had changed so much ... Perhaps it wasn’t Lawrence Dufrette after all.
    Suddenly she stood very still. She had actually written a detailed account of the tragedy, she remembered. She had done it first by hand, then she had typed it up. She had covered a great number of pages, which she had put inside a folder. Every year at the end of July she started looking for the folder, but never managed to find it, after which she forgot about it. (Was that deliberate? Talking about self-imposed amnesia!) It was somewhere at home, she knew, in some drawer. She determined to do her very best this time, dig up her account without fail and read it. She felt she had to. She knew she would have another bad night if she didn’t.
    Twenty years. She owed it to Sonya.

    An hour later she heard a familiar booming voice outside the library door. ‘Scrambled duck egg with smoked eel - not bad at all. Bloody good in fact. You must try it, Wake-field. Be adventurous, that’s my motto. What? Splendid idea, yes. Haven’t told her yet. I’ll tell her now. No better time than the present.’ The door opened. ‘Miss Darcy! Miss Darcy! Are you in there?’
    Antonia rose. ‘Good morning, Colonel Haslett,’ she greeted her boss brightly. Despite his advanced years Colonel Haslett OBE, DSO dealt with every matter at top speed before passing on to the next item on his always-extensive list. In his wake he left ripples, which tended to develop later into a large backwash of things to do.
    ‘Ah, Miss D., you are back. Good, excellent. How have you been getting on with the Gresham papers?’ Colonel Haslett was leaning heavily on his silver-topped cane and craning his head forward, half-moon glasses at the tip of his nose, his hand cupping his right ear. At his neck he had a starched damask napkin; it was clear he had had a late breakfast in the club’s dining room. He frequently forgot to remove his napkin. It was Colonel Haslett’s record with the Number One Commandos on the French coast early in the war and in North Africa and Burma that had won him a reputation for outstanding leadership. He had been nicknamed ‘Junior’ because another Haslett, a first cousin of his, had been a commanding officer.
    ‘Well, Colonel Haslett, the Gresham papers are proving a bit — ’
    ‘The reason I ask is that we may have a contact at the Historical Manuscripts Commission. A friend of m’wife‘s, actually. A Miss ... um ... Can’t remember her name, but she is the right person for this kind of job. She’s been highly recommended. On the highest authority. She could help us with them, you know. I mean, take the Gresham papers off your hands, Miss D. Good idea, what? I can see you have lots to do, lots to do.’ He was peering round her office, at the heaps of unprocessed books and mounds of paper. ‘Not to worry.’
    ‘Well, I suppose it would make sense to -’
    ‘Good, excellent. She’ll be round quite soon, tomorrow as likely as not. She’s that sort of woman. Damned efficient. Puts us all to shame, what? Cathcart, that’s it. Her name’s Cathcart. Miss - or Mrs Cathcart. Don’t know which. Actually she comes round our place occasionally and we play bridge together. You know her?’
    ‘I’m afraid not -’
    ‘You haven’t got very far with the Gresham papers, have you? Been an arduous task, I imagine.’
    ‘Well, actually -’
    ‘Never mind, never mind. I can see how much there is to do here. You’d better get on with it. Get cracking.’
    He patted her arm bracingly and, despite his stick and gammy leg, marched swiftly out of the room with amazing agility.
    I was quite enjoying the job, Antonia finished the sentence to herself. Looking down at the box filled with books that stood beside her desk, she noticed that the one at the top bore the title, The Greatest Secret. It had been placed on top of Greenmantle. Had it been there earlier on? She had the feeling that it hadn’t. Underneath the main title