Weekend with Death Read Online Free PDF

academic publicity, a literary publicity, a scientific publicity. But not the sordid publicity of crime, and coroner’s courts, and a limelighted, headlined murder trial, with his secretary telling a fantastic tale in the witness-box. No—long before that could happen Sarah Marlowe would have ceased to be his secretary. Sarah Marlowe would be out of a job, because nobody wanted to get mixed up in a murder trial. And what about Tinkler’s rent?
    By the time she reached the Green Tree her mind was quite made up on one point—whatever Henry said or Henry did, she wasn’t going to risk her job. For the rest—well, wait and see.
    The minute she saw Henry it came over her that they were going to quarrel. He had that sort of look about him. “ Totalitarian ”, said Sarah to herself. Her eyes brightened, but she smiled her wide, delicious smile.
    â€œHullo, Henry!”
    Henry gloomed and said, “You’re late.”
    â€œDarling, I told you I would be.”
    â€œIt leaves us so little time.”
    Sarah sat down and began to take off her gloves. Henry gloomed more deeply.
    â€œI don’t make pretty speeches.”
    Too, too true. Sarah had sometimes sighed over this. But you can’t have everything. Henry making pretty speeches wouldn’t have been Henry, and on the whole she liked him as he was. A tall young man with a good pair of shoulders and a certain air of forcefulness about him. Quite ordinary features, quite ordinary hair of a nondescript shade of brown, but rather good dark grey eyes and noticeably well shaped hands.
    He gave his order to the waiter and gazed moodily at Sarah.
    â€œI don’t know what you call a week-end. You’ve been away four days.”
    A becoming colour mounted to Miss Marlowe’s cheek. So that was what it was. Gratifying of course, but if Henry Templar thought he could come it over her like that he would have to learn to think again. She said sweetly,
    â€œI had Mr. Cattermole’s leave. I didn’t know I had to have yours too.”
    â€œLook here, Sarah—”
    They were certainly going to quarrel.
    â€œLook here, Sarah—”
    â€œDarling, there isn’t anything to look at—I only wish there were. I’m most frightfully hungry. What did you order? Soup? I could do with really boiling soup.”
    The soup arrived, and the quarrel was for the moment averted. You cannot quarrel and eat very hot mulligatawny soup at the same time. There was a short armistice, during which Sarah prattled about Joanna and her smuggler. This, however, was not at all a safe subject. As soon as he had finished his soup Henry said in an exasperated voice,
    â€œShe’s quite mad—they’re both mad. I don’t like your being there at all, and I wish to goodness you’d leave.”
    â€œOh, there are worse jobs. They’re awfully kind, and anyhow—”
    The waiter took away their plates. When he had gone Henry said with subdued violence,
    â€œYou’ve no business to be with people like that!”
    â€œNonsense!”
    He looked past her, frowning.
    â€œI suppose it’s not my business.”
    â€œI was just wondering when that would strike you.”
    He pushed that away with an odd impatience.
    â€œYou haven’t got anyone else.”
    Sarah looked at him with exasperated affection.
    â€œDarling, a whole family of parents, brothers, uncles, aunts, and cousins all put together wouldn’t fuss worse than you do. Besides, I’ve got Tinkler.” Her voice changed. “Henry, I do wish you wouldn’t quarrel, and I do wish you’d be reasonable. There’s Tink. You—you know what she’s done for me, or perhaps you don’t. I don’t think I’ve ever told you in so many words, but I didn’t know all of it myself till the other day. Anyhow when the smash came and my father and mother died—well, I was twelve. There weren’t any