Free Destination Unknown by Agatha Christie Page B

come to her at a moment when she was committed to adventure and danger.
    But perhaps there was no danger and no adventure... Perhaps she could stay here awhile and nothing would happen... and then...
    And then - what?
    A little cold breeze sprang up and Hilary gave a quick shiver. You strayed into the garden of peaceful living, but in the end you would be betrayed from within. The turmoil of the world, the harshness of living, the regrets and despairs, all these she carried within her.
    And it was late afternoon, and the sun had lost its power. Hilary went up the various terraces and into the hotel.
    In the gloom of the Oriental Lounge, something voluble and cheerful resolved itself, as Hilary's eyes got attuned to the dimness, into Mrs. Calvin Baker, her hair newly blued, and her appearance immaculate as ever.
    “I've just got here by air,” she explained. “I simply can't stand these trains - the time they take! And the people in them, as often as not, quite unsanitary! They've no idea at all of hygiene in these countries. My dear, you should see the meat in the souks - all smothered in flies. They just seem to think it's natural to have flies settling on everything.”
    “I suppose it is really,” said Hilary.
    Mrs. Calvin Baker was not going to allow such a heretical statement to pass.
    “I'm a great believer in the Clean Food movement. At home everything perishable is wrapped in cellophane - but even in London your bread and cakes just stand about unwrapped. Now tell me, have you been getting around? You've been doing the old city today, I expect?”
    “I'm afraid I haven't 'done' anything,” said Hilary, smiling. “I've just been sitting about in the sun.”
    “Ah, of course - you're just out of hospital. I forgot.” Clearly only recent illness was accepted by Mrs. Calvin Baker as an excuse for failure to sight-see. “How could I be so stupid? Why, it's perfectly true, after concussion you ought to lie down and rest in a dark room most of the day. By and by we can make some expeditions together. I'm one of those people who likes a real packed day - everything planned and arranged. Every minute filled.”
    In Hilary's present mood, this sounded like a foretaste of hell, but she congratulated Mrs. Calvin Baker on her energy.
    “Well, I will say that for a woman of my age I get around pretty well. I hardly ever feel fatigue. Do you remember Miss Hetherington at Casablanca? An English-woman with a long face. She'll be arriving this evening. She prefers train to flying. Who's staying in the hotel? Mostly French, I suppose. And honeymoon couples. I must run along now and see about my room. I didn't like the one they gave me and they promised to change it.”
    A miniature whirlwind of energy, Mrs. Calvin Baker departed.
    When Hilary entered the dining room that evening, the first thing she saw was Miss Hetherington at a small table against the wall eating her dinner with a Penguin book propped up in front of her.
    The three ladies had coffee together after dinner and Miss Hetherington displayed a pleasurable excitement over the Swedish magnate and the blonde film star.
    “Not married, I understand,” she breathed, disguising her pleasure with a correct disapproval. “One sees so much of that sort of thing abroad. That seemed a nice French family at the table by the window. The children seemed so fond of their papa. Of course, French children are allowed to sit up far too late. Ten o'clock sometimes before they go to bed, and they go through every course on the menu instead of just having milk and biscuits as children should.”
    “They seem to look quite healthy on it,” said Hilary, laughing.
    Miss Hetherington shook her head and uttered a cluck of disapproval.
    “They'll pay for it later,” she said with grim foreboding. “Their parents even let them drink wine.”
    Horror could go no further.
    Mrs. Calvin Baker began making plans for the next day.
    “I don't think I shall go to the old city,” she