The White Wolf's Son Read Online Free PDF

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     house, perhaps watching the cricket, they might not have heard the visitors arrive. I had no instinctive suspicion of the
     three men and in fact trusted the albino just because I remembered someone like him in my old dreams, so I answered perhaps
     more freely than was sensible. I agreed that the Count and Countess von Bek did usually live across the road but that they
     had gone to London. My own parents, their son and daughter-in-law, were due back from Lancaster fairly soon.
    “Ah,” said the tall albino rather sonorously. “The one thing we had not bargained for!” Putting his long case carefully down,
     he shook hands with me. His were the strongest, hardest fingers I had ever touched before. “I apologize, Miss von Bek. My
     manners have becomecrude.” He introduced himself. “I am usually simply known as Monsieur Zodiac.”
    “That’s the name of a conjurer who used to appear at the Palladium,” I said. “You look rather like his picture.” I had seen
     the programs which my grandfather and grandmother had kept. “Are you a relative?”
    “I had a small reputation on the halls,” he admitted. “But I had not expected to be recognized by someone so young!” His smile
     was pleasant, melancholy, rather distant. “Your grandfather and I go back sixty years.”
    I explained the circumstances while the Chevalier St. Odhran, employing Colonel Bastable to help him, ran back to press the
     hot air from his balloon’s canopy. “I’m fascinated by all those old theater things,” I told him. “I mean to be an actress
     one day. Did you perform with the Beatles?”
    He regretted that he hadn’t known the group. “I was only once on the same bill. In Preston. In the early days. Now, if I might
     leave this in your care for a few minutes …” Setting his guitar case down, he excused himself and went to the assistance of
     the others.
    I watched the three press and fold the silk and pack it into the balloon’s basket. They were all tall, athletic men and plainly
     old friends, exchanging jokes and laughing as they worked. Yet there was a purposefulness to them which gave me a lot of comfort.
     I could feel myself beaming with inner contentment. Boredom was no longer threatening to spoil my holidays.

CHAPTER TWO
    T HERE SEEMED NOTHING for it: I must try to be a good hostess and invite the strangers in for a cup of tea. Mrs. Hawthornthwaite entered the big
     kitchen just as my guests and I reached the hall. She was a bit taken aback, especially when the tall men told her they already
     knew the von Beks and were here by arrangement.
    “I’m surprised,” she said a little stiffly. “Usually Mr. and Mrs. Bek let me know when visitors are expected.” My parents,
     who under German custom could use their titles, preferred not to be known as Count and Countess.
    But St. Odhran soon charmed Mrs. H, establishing his credentials with a reminiscence or two of shared early days with her
     employers, until the more formal apologies of his companions had her insisting to them that they should stay even when, with
     perfect manners, they suggested they find a tea shop in the village and return later.
    “I should also warn you, Mrs. Hawthornthwaite, that up to four other members of our little band also expect to join us here,”
     said Colonel Bastable, offering her a salute of thanks. “It would be pure imposition…”
    She took this in her stride. I had never seen her so friendly to anyone outside the family as she was to these well-dressed
     yet somehow battle-scarred men, whom I think we both instinctively understood to be heroes, seasonedin unimaginable wars. “Then I’d better get out the old tea set,” she said with some satisfaction. “We’ve had bigger parties
     for the Three Peaks race, gentlemen.” She wondered if she shouldn’t try to contact my mum and dad on their mobile. It was
     sometimes harder to find a signal for Morecambe than it was for London, in spite of what the servers always