Monsieur Pamplemousse Aloft Read Online Free

scene.
    Pommes Frites blinked as he emerged from the Director’s office onto the sunlit balcony. Having enjoyed a short nap while the others were talking, he’d woken to find he was alone and that the voices were now coming from outside. Something was going on, and feeling left out of things he decided – quite reasonably in his view – to find out what it was.
    He arrived just as his master was about to carry out the delicate manoeuvre of making the final approach; a manoeuvre which would have been difficult enough at the best of times, but made more so by a sudden downward draught of cold air created by the temperature of the water issuing from the fountain in the courtyard below. It was a manoeuvre which needed the utmost concentration and which most certainly would have been brought to a more successful conclusion, had not what felt like a ton weight suddenly landed on his shoulders just at the moment critique
.
    Catching sight of Pommes Frites, and anticipating his next move, the Director issued a warning cry, but it was too late. Watched by all three, the dirigible lost height rapidly and disappeared at speed through an open window several floors below.
    A feeling of gloom descended on the balcony. It was as though a large black cloud had suddenly obscured the sun.
    ‘Let us hope,’ said the Director, ‘that Madame Grante manages to shut off the motors before too much damage is done. I think it was her window the dirigible entered. I trust, also, that it is not an omen.’
    Without bothering to reply, Monsieur Pamplemousse bounded through the Director’s office, past an astonished secretary, and out into the corridor. Eschewing the lift, and with Pommes Frites hard on his heels, he shot down three floors, arriving outside Madame Grante’s office without even bothering to draw breath. There was a possibility, a very faint possibility, that she would be out of her room.
    But as he opened the door he came to an abrupt halt.Patently the room was far from empty. There were papers everywhere. It looked as though it had been struck by a minor hurricane.
    Madame Grante was in the act of closing the door of her stationery cupboard on the far side of the room.
    She turned. ‘Monsieur Pamplemousse?’
    ‘Madame Grante.’ He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. ‘Madame Grante, I was wondering … that is to say … may we have our balloon back, s’il vous plaît ?’
    With a flourish Madame Grante deposited a silver key in a place where it would have needed a braver man than Monsieur Pamplemousse to retrieve it. ‘Your balloon, Monsieur Pamplemousse? I see no balloon.’
    For a full thirty seconds they stood staring at each other. Once again he was conscious of a look in Madame Grante’s eyes he couldn’t quite make out. It was something more than mere triumph.
    Wild thoughts of declaring his undying love for her crossed his mind and were instantly dismissed. Bernard always said you never could tell; still waters ran deep. But Bernard had theories about most things. The prospect of Madame Grante melting in his arms was not only remote, it didn’t bear thinking about. Such a declaration might even send her into a state of shock. Not to mention the possible effect on Pommes Frites. Would it get him what he wanted? More important still, would it be worth it?
    For the sake of the Director? Certainly not!
    For the sake of France? No, not even for that!
    Monsieur Pamplemousse knew when he was beaten. He turned on his heels and left, making his way up to the top floor at a somewhat slower rate than he had come down.
    The Director was waiting outside his door. His face fell as Monsieur Pamplemousse came into view. ‘You are empty-handed. Don’t tell me …’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse nodded. ‘I am afraid we are in trouble,
Monsieur.
Madame Grante has put the, dirigible where she keeps her P39s.’
    ‘And the key, Pamplemousse? Where is the key?’
    ‘The key,
Monsieur,
is in a place which is even more