The Numbered Account

The Numbered Account Read Online Free PDF

Book: The Numbered Account Read Online Free PDF
Author: Ann Bridge
Tags: detective, thriller, Historical, Crime, Mystery, British, women sleuth
and continued her comments.
    â€˜My goodness me, Miss, do look at that! Is there any reason for a hill to stick up into the sky like a power-station chimney?’ (This was Watkins’s reaction to the Bürgenstock, seen end on.)
    â€˜Switzerland
is
like that, Watkins,’ Julia replied, laughing. ‘The whole place is up on end.’
    But though Julia was more familiar than Watkins with the power-station-chimney aspect of Switzerland, since she had twice spent three weeks ski-ing at Zermatt, she knew nothing whatever of the country beyond what could be seen from trains or ski-slopes, or learned from how its hotels are run; of the industrial and commercial, let alone the private life of its inhabitants she was completely ignorant, as most tourists are. Her enlightenment began at once, at Gersau.
    This whole small place is compressed into a fold between two of the steep green ridges running down from the Rigi. Along the lake front is a fringe of hotels, restaurants, gardens, and filling-stations, Gersau’s public face; but up behind are large unsuspected houses in shady gardens, giving onto narrow quiet streets with occasional small shops, which supply the needs of the inhabitants rather than souvenirs for the tourist.
    A tall stately old gentleman in a Panama hat was standing on the little quay, attended by a manservant in a red-and-black silk jacket; as Julia and Watkins stepped off the boat he raised his panama and said, ‘Is it Miss Probyn? I am Rudolf Waechter,’ in perfect English, and then greeted Watkins—‘Your mistress will be very pleased to see you.’ Julia was surprised to see no sign of a car or even a taxi, but none was necessary; their luggage was placed on a hand-barrow by the manservant and they walked, slightly uphill, barely two hundred yards before reaching a large plastered house with deep overhanging eaves, and passed through a heavy old door of carved walnut into a cool hall. Within, the staircase had walnut banisters, and there was old walnut panelling everywhere; Persian rugs and carpets covered the floors and even the stairs, and on the walls modern French paintings were skilfully juxtaposed with some lovely Primitives which, Julia later learned, were early Rhenish, something in which her host specialised.
    â€˜You will want to see Mrs. Hathaway,’ he said, as he took her upstairs. ‘Luncheon will be at 1.30, so you have time—Anna will show you your room, and then take you to her. It is very good of you to come yourself to bring her maid—and I am, of course, delighted to have you here.’
    On an upper landing Anna, a neat elderly maid, was waiting, and took Julia to her room, Watkins following. ‘Room’ was an understatement; Julia had been given a suite consisting of a large bedroom, a sitting-room, and a bathroom. Bedroom and sitting-room both opened onto a deep balcony, set with luxuriously comfortable
chaises longues
and small tables, an extra room in itself. The bathroom, like all the rest, was of a
recherché
perfection—the whole thing was so exquisite that Julia almost gasped. She threw her hat on the bed, and then asked Anna where ‘Miss Watkins’s’ room was? Anna, beaming, led them out onto the wide landing again—more superb rugs, Julia noticed—and opened the door of a pleasant bed-sitting-room, also with an adjoining bathroom.
    â€˜Well, you will be quite comfy here, Watkins, won’t you?’ Julia asked.
    â€˜Provided the water’s
hot,’
Watkins replied, turning on the tap in the basin. A cloud of steam answered her incredulity; a little abashed, she turned off the tap. ‘Yes, Miss; it’s a pretty room—and quite clean, too.’ Julia was satisfied; if Watkins passed the Waechter house as clean, she would give no trouble. She asked Anna to take them to Frau Hathaway.
    Watkins had been put in a room next door to her mistress, who was housed in another lovely
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