Thunder On The Right by Mary Stewart

Author:Mary Stewart [Stewart, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

He turned his head. At the movement the lizard flickered out of sight, and the stone lay hot and bare between them. He looked gravely at her.

"Oh—yes, we'll stop it. And it shouldn't be too hard, Jenny. In spite of the Grand Guignol setup—mountain valleys, murder, and mysterious goings-on in the convent—I don't think it's a case for heroics." He paused. "Or even the police. I still think it would be a mistake to get mixed up in what doesn't concern us—and Pierre Bussac's activities, however villainous, decidedly do not."

"But Gillian------"

"Oh, yes. She concerns us. In fact the whole affair boils down quite simply to that: to get Gillian safely away from Bussac's farm, and take her home with us." He hesitated. "And if that can be done quietly—without dragging in the police and accusing Bussac and that woman of felony—so much the better." He smiled at her expression. "Too un-heroic by half, Jenny? Don't I measure up?"

She flushed. "It isn't that. It's just that—well, if they are felons------"

"We have a duty to do something about it? Perhaps. But think a minute"—his hand dropped lightly over hers—"if we rush into this with guns blazing, God knows what we may start, and Gillian's in the thick of it. If we can get her out of it by negotiation, as it were, don't you honestly think that would be better?"

"Of course. But can we?"

"I think so. I'm beginning to get a glimmering—the craziest glimmering—of an idea as to what she's doing up at the farm—though no idea as to why. . . . And it makes me feel that our first move is obviously to go up there."

"What about Bussac?"

He grinned. "He won't be there. I saw him as I came up, away over the hill with a mule. That's why we're going straight away."

He got to his feet, and put down a hand to her, pulling her up. She said eagerly, "If Madame Bussac's there on her own, we can surely deal with her!"

He was looking down at her somewhat oddly. "If I'm right," he said slowly, "I hope we can."

"What d'you mean?"

He laughed, avoiding the question. "I told you I wasn't a storybook hero. I don't particularly want to face King Rat, but I don't mind his wife. She's a friend of mine."

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten. She's one of your painting critics."

"That's it. The one who prefers photographs." He turned to pick up his haversack.

"And that brings me back to the crazy idea I was telling you about. I think—what the devil?"

From above a sharp sound had interrupted him. A puff of dust spurted from the cliff top. Something moved. . . .

"Look out!"

He was on her in one leap. There was no time to get out of range. She felt herself whirled up into his arms, crushed there as he swung around with his back to the cliff and his body blocking the danger from her.

There was the whisper and hot smell of dust. The falling boulder whistled down, struck.

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