There May Be Danger Read Online Free Page A

did not attract her, when the little woman in the corner suddenly spoke in one of the clearest, sharpest, most incisive voices Kate had ever heard, on the stage or off it.
    â€œIndeed, and you have come to the wrong shop, then! There was a bomb over in a field to Aberwent last Tuesday fortnight.”
    The young nurse, with some facial skill, expressed polite interest to the speaker and extreme amusement to Kate.
    â€œAnd Aberwent is not so far from the Veault, not more than eight miles, whatever!” pursued the woman with the market basket. She pronounced it Vote.
    â€œOh dear, my blood fairly curdles, doesn’t yours?” said the nurse to Kate, gathering her belongings together as the train began to slow down. “Well, I’m glad it isn’t a vault I’m going to, anyway. Good Lord, it’s raining horribly! If they haven’t sent a car to meet me, I shall go straight back to London by the next train!”
    Kate struggled into her oilskin coat and picked up the one large knapsack in which she had packed all her luggage, and the three of them descended and straggled out into the yard, where stood a shabby old horse and trap, and a very expensive-looking little black car with a pretty girl in the driver’s seat. A man carrying a quantity of dead rabbits slung on sticks was standing and conversing with the elderly driver of the trap.
    The pretty girl swung open the door of the car, the children’s nurse got in, and they drove off. Kate felt envious. A chilly wind was blowing the rain aslant, it would soon be dark, and she did not know where she was going to sleep the night. The road curved away up-hill to the left, past the gaunt shoulder of a hill, and to the right ran along the valley beside the railway line. There was no village in sight.
    â€œCan you tell me which is the way to Hastry village?” asked Kate of the little round-faced woman who was settling her basket on the seat of the trap preparatory to climbing in herself.
    â€œHastry village?” echoed the man with the rabbits, before the woman had time to answer the question. “It would depend what part of Hastry village you wass wanting!” 
    Kate, who had not been so far west as the border before, had never heard such a melodious fall and rise of tone except on the stage, in the plays of Emlyn Williams. The man’s bright brown eyes were fixed in a sort of foxy curiosity on her face, as also were the eyes of the middle-aged woman, and those of the elderly driver, who sat, collar turned up and cap well pulled down, with rain dripping off the reddened nose between his straggling grey brows and straggling grey moustache.
    â€œIt would depend, now, who you wass wanting in Hastry village,” said the man with the rabbits zestfully.
    â€œMrs. Howells.”
    â€œHowells the farm, or Howells the post, would that be, I wonder?”
    â€œMrs. Cornelius Howells, Sunnybank—”
    â€œAh, that iss Howells the post! Well, now, Mr. Davis he iss going up by Sunnybank. He would let you ride in his tub, I shouldn’t wonder!”
    â€œOh, ah!” said the driver of the vehicle affirmatively.
    â€œPlease to get in,” said the little woman, as the tub, which was a sort of governess-cart, moved forward slightly, and the horse shifted his hooves under her own advent. “Well, goodnight, Mr. Morgan.”
    â€œGood-night, Mrs. Davis. Good-night, Mr. Davis. I shall be getting the rabbits from you on Monday?”
    â€œOh, ah!” agreed the man in the tub. “I will be bringing them down myself, early. There will be some good ones I shouldn’t wonder.”
    His leathery cheek curved in a grin, and a peculiar look of humorous, secret understanding crossed Mr. Morgan’s foxy face. It still lingered as he turned to Kate, who wondered passingly what there was about rabbits to cause this sub-humorous understanding.
    â€œGood-night, young lady! Mrs. Howells will be expecting