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Authors: Kathryn Blair

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BOOK: The Man at Mulera
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She awoke without haste, became conscious of light behind her eyelids and opened them, expecting sunshine. But she was still in the strange room lit by wall lights, and for moments she was occupied with recollecting the events which had brought her here to Mulera. Then, beyond the french window she saw a man

s figure, saw him flick a cigarette in a glowing arc out into the night
.
The Gilmores were back!

She pushed up out of the chair, and just then the man came in and pulled the doors closed behind him. He was very tall and wide-shouldered, wore a white dinner jacket which accentuated the teak tan of his face. A rather disturbing face, really
...

He stared at her, and the
corner
of a well-defined mouth pulled slightly.

Well, well, what shall we find next?

he said in the sort of voice that never entirely gives its owner away.

Who are you?


Lou Prentice,

she said.

Are you Mr. Gilmore?


That

s right. Ross Gilmore.

He paused, said her name and suddenly lifted a dark brow.

You

re Dorothy Weston

s
cousin. Don

t tell me you got in this evening from England!

Thank heaven she didn

t need to do much explaining. Lou gave him a rather drowsy-eyed smile.

Yes. I asked to be taken to a hotel, but was told there isn

t one. I came here because it seemed there was nowhere else to go at short notice.


But you must have arrived hours ago! What have you been doing all this time?


Sleeping, I

m afraid.

She looked at her watch.

It stopped on the plane. What time is it?


One-thirty,

he said briefly.


In the morning?

she asked incredulously.

I must have slept like a
...


Like a child,

he supplied, a little acidly.

I wondered why the lights were on—thought Ali must have slipped up.

He came further into the room, shoved his hands into his pockets and looked her over with searching and exasperated hazel-green eyes.

Why the deuce didn

t you cable us you were coming?


I wasn

t coming—
not here to the plantation. If I

d known there was no hotel I

d have gone to Zomba. I didn

t like the sound of that solicitor—his telegram was too impersonal.


I dictated it myself to the solicitor

s secretary, less than a week ago.


Oh.

A hint of antagonism came into her tones.

So that

s how you feel about Keith—that there

s nothing urgent about getting him settled?


Look here, Miss Prentice,

he said coolly,

I don

t intend to discuss anything at this hour. From the look of you, you

re as much in need of a guardian as he is. Had anything to eat since you landed?


No, but I

m not hungry. Mr. Gilmore
.
..


Sit down,

he said tersely.

I

m no kitchen hand but I

ll get you something.

Somehow, Lou got the impression that he wasn

t sorry to leave her for a few minutes. She felt disturbed and
very
wide awake; it was vexing that the man who had been Dick Weston

s boss should turn out to be hard and uncaring, and she did hope poor little Keith had not been unhappy. If he had, she would put things right for him, do all she possibly could to make him feel wanted.

Ross Gilmore came back, carrying a glass of milk and a plate of biscuits. As he hooked a small table near to her with his foot and placed the milk and biscuits within her reach, his regard was dispassionate. He straightened and stood back, watched her try the milk and himself put on
a cigarette.

Lou ate one biscuit and then looked up.

I thought you were married, but you aren

t, are you?


No,

in a faint surprise.

Should I be?

She sighed and nodded towards the photograph.

Is the lady a relative?


My mother

s sister. She kept house for me in England, and she comes out every year for a month or two.


It was because of that photograph that I went to sleep,

she said soberly. "I thought she was Mrs. Gilmore and that Mr. Gilmore would sort of match her. It was comforting.


Too bad it was only a dream,

he said laconically.

Even though I can

t conjure a wife, I

m afraid you

re stuck here for the night. By the morning I

ll have thought out what

s best for you.


I shan

t be able to go to sleep again if we don

t talk a little about it now. How is Keith?


He

s fine.


Not fretting?


Only a little. Tell me,

he said, as if it were merely a point of interest,

how did you feel when you knew you

d been named as his official guardian
?

She looked up at him frankly.

I was thankful. You see, Dorothy and I were always together until she married. She was like a darling older sister. I lost my parents when I was eight and I lived with hers. Then when her mother died Dorothy kept the house going and I helped. I was only sixteen when she married and hardly seventeen when she left England, but she

d actually waited to get married for my sake, so you can understand how I feel about Keith. I missed Dorothy terribly—went off to training college and eventually settled down to kindergarten teaching. I

ve been lucky—I live in at the private school where I teach.


Amazingly lucky,

he agreed with irony.

I

d no idea the cousin Dorothy mentioned once or twice was so young. I don

t suppose she ever alluded to me in her letters?


Your name occurred sometimes, but mostly she was full of Dick and her little boy.

Lou

s eyes filled suddenly and she looked away from him. Very steadily she added,

I

ll try to be everything to Keith—just as Dorothy was everything to me.


But Dorothy, if I may say so, was a different type and somewhat older, and while you were young she had parents. By the way, what has
her father said about your being appointed to care for the boy?


I don

t know. I have a married brother who

s promised to see Uncle Morris. My uncle is an awful old man—always moaning about taxes, and shares that go down but never up. He never gives anything away and he never entertains because it

s expensive. I

m afraid he won

t show any interest in Keith till he

s quite sure it won

t cost him anything.

He smiled faintly.

That

s a good picture of an old man who

s gone sour on himself. Perhaps it

s as well that Keith isn

t going to England.

Lou had been about to finish the glass of milk, but now she set the glass down with a thud.

What did you say?

she asked blankly.


You heard, little one,

he said carelessly.

Keith

s staying in Nyasaland. It

s what both Dick and Dorothy wanted. Tell you what, I

ll
give you a copy of Dorothy

s
W
ill—in essence it

s exactly the same as Dick

s—and you can read it tomorrow morning, when you wake up. At the moment it

s more important to find you a bedroom.

Lou felt a little as if she had been mentally pummelled. This man was too cool and managing; yet there was something about him, a look of knowledge and experience, that sent a tremor of apprehension along her nerves.


Do I
... have to sleep here in this house?

His smile was tolerant

Afraid so, but I

ll give you a room that locks. It

s two o

clock now. In four hours

time the servants will be about
.


Won

t they think my being here rather strange?


Possibly, Miss Prentice
...
possibly. But then they consider me a strange and wonderful man. Don

t worry. If there

s any explaining necessary, you may safely leave it with me. Had enough to eat?


Oh, yes,

said Lou hastily, and she stood up.

I have two cases somewhere.


They

re probably in the spare room already.


Really? Do you often have a guest for the night?

His smile was narrow.

You mean a young woman guest? Never—without a husband. But Ali is ever hopeful. Come this way, will you?

He took her into a wide corridor, lifted a finger as they passed a room which had the door ajar. Keith

s, thought Lou tenderly. She went into the room Ross Gilmore indicated and he switched on the light. Sure enough, the cases were there, one on the floor and the other set on a stool ready for opening.


The bathroom is right opposite,

Ross said, as he ostentatiously turned the key in the door and snapped the lock back again to show that it worked.

Goodnight.

Lou answered him, heard him go along to a room and close the-door. For a minute or so she stood still, palpitating a little and wondering whether she ought to stay. Then she saw herself wandering out into the African darkness at two in the morning in search of a room, and her sense of humor came to her aid, She had to stay, but Keith was here to lend the occasion a veneer of normality.

Perhaps because she had three nights of unrest to make up for, Lou slept again very quickly, and she did not awaken till a high-pitched male voice began to nag at someone who replied in lazy, thick-toned syllables. She sat up, had the most amazing sensation of being enveloped in gigantic white cobwebs and realized that someone had lowered the mosquito net over her bed. She went hot with indignation, cool with resignation. If Mr. Gilmore was a sample of the Englishman in the tropics she didn

t want to meet many more. Still, it had been her own fault for forgetting to lock the door.

She fought her way out of the net, stood on the bed and fastened it Then she saw the folded papers on the bedside table, read that they were the Last Will and Testament of Dorothy Weston. She shivered, and popped the
Will into the table drawer. She drew on her dressing
-
gown, listened at the door, and hurried into the bathroom.

BOOK: The Man at Mulera
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ads

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