Alastair was a bachelor . 
All his life he had been inclined to regard women as something which must necessarily be subordinated to his career . 
Now he realised that he was entrusting not only his own life , but Geoffrey 's as well , to a strange girl whom he had never met and on whom after no more than a couple of telephone calls he was prepared to place complete reliance . 
It was a novel experience . 
Alastair was quite unable to explain why he should feel so much confidence in her . 
Once again she checked back her instructions . 
It was obvious that she did not fail to appreciate the faith which he was placing in her and was prepared to accept the responsibility . 
" Good luck , Air Marshal , " she said gently . 
" I 'll be waiting for you at the Hotel Roma at six this evening — and I shall look forward to meeting you both at midnight . " 
They might have been arranging a supper party . 
Then she rang off . 
Alastair admitted that never in a not altogether uneventful life had he come across a girl who sounded so charming and appeared to be so efficient . 
He looked forward to meeting her . 
Chapter Ten 
It was a perfect moonlight night ; there appeared to be no cloud over the whole of Europe . 
From a height of 50,000 feet northern Italy strikingly resembled the great relief map which covers the floor of the southern Europe briefing room at NATO headquarters . 
Seated beside Alastair , lulled by the uncanny silence of supersonic flight , Geoffrey could imagine himself in one of the upper galleries . 
For some reason the orderlies had forgotten to switch on the lights ; there was no colour — physical features were distinguishable solely by gradations of silvery greyness . 
Even the snow-capped summit of Mont Blanc , seven miles below , was not recognisable among the host of lower peaks . 
The screen of the air-to-air radar glowed . 
Occasionally minute spots flickered across its surface , but there was no permanent image . 
The sky seemed to be deserted . 
Alastair leant across and pressed a switch . 
A tiny red light sprang into life , only to fade as the screen of the second radar scanner came into operation . 
This was the ground definition unit . 
Although Geoffrey had relatively little experience of interpreting radar pictures , he was able to recognise the land beneath him . 
In the exceptional clarity he was even able to make a direct comparison between the radar image and the ground itself . 
Ahead lay the Plain of Lombardy ; to the right , Turin ; to the left , Milan . 
The directional angle of the scanner could be adjusted to cover any particular area within its range . 
Geoffrey turned the scale slowly to cover the ground immediately ahead . 
He was able to pick out towns , unrecognisable to the naked eye , obscured by the ground haze which even on the clearest night limited angular vision . 
He glanced at the speed recorder . 
It seemed almost incredible that the tiny white figure of 8.5 against which the needle was resting could really mean hundreds of knots . 
They were flying at more than 975 miles an hour , or nearly Mach 1.3 to use the modern jargon . 
Thanks to the massive cooling plant there was no suggestion of excessive heat . 
Suddenly the nature of the silence changed . 
During the fifty-odd minutes since they had left Boscombe Down , Geoffrey had become so accustomed to the unbroken note of the great engines that they were no longer audible . 
Now , as Alastair reduced the thrust , the pitch changed as the nose of the aircraft dipped slightly . 
The needle of the speed recorder swung gently through 8.0 , 7.0 , 6.0 before coming to rest at 5.0 . 
" We 're a bit ahead of time , " said Alastair . 
" We 'll run in on minimum engine power . " 
Geoffrey smiled . 
Alastair talked of running in when they were still more than four hundred miles from their destination . 
They were nearing Modena . 
Geoffrey focused the radar scanner on the bridge over the Po , barely forty miles to port . 
He was able to trace the course of the river ; he thought he could recognise the route of N12 , along which he had motored so desperately little more than twenty-four hours earlier . 
Since then he had flown to England , attended the vital conference in Bruce Denton 's office , been whisked by special helicopter from the Horse Guards Parade to Boscombe Down , slept for six blessed refreshing hours and had now completed two-thirds of the journey back to the place where every indication pointed to Eve being held . 
Geoffrey set himself to consider the movements of the Bentley . 
It had passed him at the temporary bridge over the Tartaro at a few minutes past ten on the previous night . 
He worked out the distance on the presumption that its route had been through Florence and Rome and then across Italy via Foggia to Barletta . 
It came to just over six hundred miles . 
Provided they did not stop ( and with Eve unconscious — or worse — they would be anxious to avoid attracting attention ) , and if they drove as fast as the roads would permit , they could not hope to reach Barletta before midday . 
Magnificent as was the performance of the Bentley , Geoffrey doubted whether on the route they had chosen , involving a double crossing of the Apennines — once at Raticosa over the Futa Pass and once again near Campobasso — anyone could maintain the average of forty miles an hour which would be necessary . 
Far more probable that they would travel more leisurely . 
Of course they could have bound and gagged her ; and provided no one examined what was hidden under the rug , they might get by . 
But they could hardly leave her in the car while they rested . 
No , he concluded , the probability was that they would drive continuously , only stopping for fuel and perhaps to purchase snacks of food and drink . 
They might not reach Foggia until late at night ; it was even conceivable he would arrive before them . 
Geoffrey forced himself to consider another possible alternative . 
Eve might be dead . 
If so , why had they troubled to bring her body all the way from Trento ? 
There were a hundred places between Trento and the Po where they could have dumped her body without fear of it being prematurely discovered . 
He had used one of them himself to dispose of Stefano and Pietro . 
He determined to act on the assumption that Eve was alive . 
He tried to imagine what the Italians would do next . 
Their final objective could only be to deliver Eve to Herring 's headquarters , which in the light of the information he had gleaned at the morning 's conference and of Gloria Falcon 's story appeared to be somewhere in the Gargano Massif . 
Of course he was assuming that the man responsible for the aircraft , for Peter Lambert 's injuries and for the abduction of Eve was one and the same person — in fact , Herring . 
Nothing was certain . 
All the deductions on which he was planning might be false . 
The men who had captured Eve might have taken her anywhere but to Barletta , but to speculate on the innumerable alternatives was to invite confusion . 
Far better to adhere to the one course which in the light of his present knowledge seemed most probable , while at the same time keeping keenly alert for any additional information which might prove to be of help . 
Gloria Falcon was the key to the whole operation . 
On what she could report of her conversation with Peter Lambert depended ultimate success . 
Geoffrey had had no contact with her but Alastair seemed to have developed a tremendous admiration for her intelligence . 
During the earlier part of their flight from Boscombe Down he had repeated the gist of his third conversation with her . 
Gloria had been waiting at the Hotel Roma when punctually at 6 the call from Alastair came through . 
He found that she had done all and more than he had asked of her . 
She had managed to get hold of a Lancia Rapido — just the car for the job : fast and at the same time with a first-class performance over rough going . 
She had examined every inch of the runway and found it quite serviceable , although , as Alastair had feared , the whole landing area was obstructed by grazing cattle . 
Gloria had visited the farmer , told him that a high-level inspecting officer from the Italian Ministry of Aviation was proposing to land on the strip during the night and that it was as much as his life was worth to allow his cattle to be the cause of an accident . 
Gloria had laughed when she told him how she had accounted for the impending visit of the official from the Ministry . 
" I hinted , " she said , "that he and I were having an affaire and only by making this desperate landing at night could he avoid the suspicions of his wife . 
Every Italian is a romantic . 
He promised that nothing should be allowed to increase the danger of our meeting . " 
Gloria emphasised that even a slight mishap would draw attention to him being in the district and would be disastrous not only for her but for his career , and , she added significantly , for those responsible for obstructing the runway . 
Within an hour the strip was completely clear ; a horde of the farmer 's family and all his workpeople hastened to remove not only the cattle but every trace of their presence . 
Gloria admitted that she had not intended to initiate quite so much activity , but once she had told her story there was no way of going back on it . 
" I have arranged , " concluded Alastair , " for her to have the car at the point where the 14-kilometre stone track meets the runway . 
It is about a hundred yards from the southern end ; so that if all goes well we shall come to a stop quite near her . " 
Geoffrey was impressed by the efficiency with which Alastair managed to surround himself . 
In his Service he was known to be ruthless to incompetence , but he seldom had any difficulty in recruiting precisely the staff he needed . 
He possessed the strange gift of leadership which enabled him to imbue even an unknown film actress with all the qualities of efficiency and decision which he took as a matter of course among his own officers . 
Geoffrey remembered that a famous field marshal , inclined to pontificate , had once stated that a headquarters staff reflected the quality of its commander . 
It certainly seemed to apply to Alastair . 
Now the N.F.E. 67 was losing height more rapidly . 
Alastair had decided to make the final approach to the airstrip at a very low level over the sea . 
He crossed the coast a few miles south of Ancona and almost immediately made a steep turn to starboard . 
Now he was flying at less than a hundred feet , about five miles off the coast . 
" I bet the radar boys are worried , " he laughed . 
" They 'll have lost us by now and will be wondering where we 've got to . " 
Geoffrey glanced at his watch ; it was eighteen minutes to midnight ; just one hundred and seven minutes since they had left Boscombe Down . 
" We 'll land in five minutes , " Alastair announced . 
" I 'd like you to be as quick as you can . 
Chuck your flying kit into the back of the aircraft and I 'll get weaving . 
The sooner I can show up on their radar screens the better . 
This is a very hush-hush job and we do n't want to create alarm and despondency by giving them the idea that I 've skipped with it to the wrong side of the Curtain . 
If they spotted us flying due east over Ancona , it might give them ideas . " 
The landing was easier than either of them had dared to hope . 
The old landing strip , perhaps helped by the spring-cleaning which it had undergone during the afternoon , shone like black glass in the moonlight . 
Alastair came in very fast , but within less than half a mile the machine rolled to a halt . 
He cut the engines and flung open the canopy . 
CHAPTER 16 
DARKNESS had descended like a curtain by the time they docked at Belleray . 
And though Guy , made nervous by Beryl 's silence , drove at reckless speed to the Villa , it was quickly evident that the party was over . 
Piers came strolling out to meet the Deanes , and as soon as Guy had driven away , invited them casually to come to his flat for a drink . 
To Beryl , at least , this was anti-climax with a vengeance . 
She had expected to be met with violent reproaches — and here he was bland and smiling . 
But it did not take her long to realise that his mood was less pleasant than appeared on the surface . 
He told her nonchalantly , as he led the way to his own veranda , that he had taken the liberty of asking Jack — as a representative of the Vallin family — to come over and make the presentation in her stead . 
" I caught him just as he was going to the airport to meet Blanche , " he said . 
" As a matter of fact I 'd asked him last night to deputise for me and fetch her . 
He brought her to the party too . 
They 're both here . " 
"I did n't know she was coming back from Barbados so soon . " 
Beryl said the first thing that came into her head . 
" Oh , she was due ! " 
And then he added in the same casual tone , " She 's not returning to her family . 
She 's going to live with friends of the bank manager , just this side of Belleray . " 
Mrs. Deane made a suitable comment , but Beryl said nothing . 
She was trying to sort things out in her mind . 
That beneath his unnaturally smooth exterior Piers was simmering with anger against her she had no doubt . 
But had n't she cause for anger too ? 
Had he acted within his rights in inviting Jack Vallin to act on her behalf , in having Blanche there — not doing the honours , perhaps , but as the only white woman of position ? 
Be this as it might , she must on no account show resentment now , and she greeted Jack and Blanche with friendly courtesy , thanking Jack warmly for coming to the rescue , and explaining as best she could how it was that she had been obliged to miss the celebrations . 
Jack and Blanche were quick to sympathise , and to express their disgust at Sir John 's abominable treatment of his guests . 
But Piers remained aloof , and when Beryl suggested having a second party , the following week , he poured cold water on the project . 
Everyone , he declared , had had a thoroughly good time , and it would take them nearly to next week to settle down again . 
Meanwhile Hubert would have betaken himself and his well-earned gratuity to his native village at the north of the island . 
It was all over and done with . 
For the time being Beryl was content to let it go at that , but she resolved to have it out with Piers when a reasonable opportunity presented itself . 
He must learn that he could not treat her with injustice and contempt , ignoring her explanations as though he were a schoolmaster and she a small , ignorant child . 
He gave her no chance of any private conversation that evening , for when Blanche and Jack left , he went with them . 
But next morning she insisted on his taking her out in the jeep — to find , if possible , Hubert and his relations , and tell them of her great disappointment at being held up in Balicou . 
With an air of resignation he sent Judy , his Boxer , to the back , and made room for her beside him . 
" Is that all you want to do ? " he asked , letting in the clutch . 
" No ; I want to make you understand just what happened about this Balicou trip , " she returned coldly . 
" I 'm a little tired of being treated like an ineffective imbecile . " 
"And I 'm heartily sick of being constantly called to account for my manners , " he retorted . 
" What have I done wrong now ? 
I cover up for you the best way I can by getting hold of Jack to make the presentation , I run the damned party to the best of my ability — saying the sugary things you ought to have been there to say — and all you can do is to find fault . " 
"It 's your superior attitude that riles me . " 
Beryl was scarlet with annoyance . 
" How I happened to be marooned at Balicou does n't interest you in the faintest degree . 
You look as though it was only what you expected of me , as though I did n't care a hoot about letting Hubert and his pals down . " 
"As your employee it 's not my business to understand all the whys and wherefores of your actions , " he said stiffly . 
" Still less to criticise you . " 
"Oh , drop that nonsense , Piers ! 
Be yourself , " she exclaimed , with mounting exasperation . 
" Very well ! " 
He brought the jeep to a standstill in a rough path fringed and shaded by citrus trees . 
" If you want my true opinion I 'll give it . 
You made some sort of a protest to Graybury . 
I 'll give you credit for that . 
But you did n't press the matter because , very naturally , you were thoroughly enjoying Forrest 's company in idyllic surroundings . " 
"How dare you say such a thing ? " she blazed . 
" For goodness ' sake show a glimmer of reason , " was his equally indignant rejoinder . 
" One minute you order me to behave like your secretary , the next like an uninhibited human being . " 
And then he added caustically , " I 've only to mention Forrest 's name to put you in a temper . 
Why not admit that you 're in love with the fellow and have done with it ? " 
"Because I 'm not , " she snapped . 
" You expect me to believe that ? " 
There was open mockery in his tone . 
" You 'll be telling me next that you spent all those hours together on Balicou without his kissing you . " 
She caught her breath . 
" Of all the caddish things to say ! " 
"Nonsense . 
If I 'd been in his place I 'd have kissed you myself — good and hard , as I 'm tempted to now . " 
"You talk as though we were alone on Balicou ! " 
She avoided his gaze , and tried to ignore that last impertinent remark . 
" With four other people — " 
" Whom you never once managed to circumvent . " 
The mockery in his voice had deepened . 
" With all due deference , Miss Deane — come off it ! " 
She met his eyes then . 
" Very well , " she said coolly . 
" We were alone together for an hour or two , the first afternoon . 
And he did kiss me . 
But if you think I acquiesced in the delay because I wanted his company — well , you 're misjudging me badly . " 
"You mean that ! " 
His expression had changed . 
" It was n't on his account at all that you allowed Sir John to get away with this — this Hitlerish behaviour . " 
She wavered , and at last said slowly , " If you must drag the truth out of me , I must ask you to regard it as confidential . " 
"My dear Beryl , do n't tell me anything , if you 'd rather not . " 
He was clearly startled by her words . 
" But remember , it was you , not I , who started this conversation . " 
"I know . 
Absurd as it may seem , I did n't want you to think badly of me . " 
She turned away from him to fondle Judy , who , sensing something amiss , was nudging her in the endeavour to gain her attention . 
" The truth is that if I had absolutely insisted on sailing at the time originally arranged , Sir John would have had it in for Guy . 
You see , it was , apparently , through a mistake on Guy 's part that we missed seeing the flamingoes our first morning on the island . " 
"What harm could possibly have come to Forrest through Sir John 's nonsense ? " 
Piers could hardly have spoken with more contempt . 
" A bully like that respects anyone who dares to stand up to him . " 
Beryl tried to suppress the thought that this was precisely the remark she had made to Guy . 
She said icily , " As you pride yourself on your knowledge of all the affairs of the island I need n't tell you that Sir John Graybury is one of Mr. Hewson 's most important customers . " 
"So what ? 
You 're not trying to say that Hewson would victimise Forrest for behaving with ordinary moral courage ! 
He 's quite capable of telling Sir John to take himself and his business to an unmentionable destination . " 
"There 's a difference between what a senior and a junior partner can do , " was her quick reply . 
" What they can bring off ! 
I 'll admit that . 
But Forrest might at least have tried . 
He 's pretty spineless ! " 
"You think you could have carried more weight with Sir John ? " she enquired cuttingly . 
" For all your good opinion of yourself , I doubt it . 
He 's about as easy to push around as — as a grounded whale ! " 
He had to smile at that , but went on airily , " I 'd have made an attempt to show my lady-love that I put her interests before my own . 
I would n't have cared to risk her thinking me a selfish weakling . " 
The barb hurt cruelly . 
For in her heart of hearts Beryl had resented Guy 's apparent indifference to her dilemma — had come near , indeed , to despising him . 
But her soreness merely increased her anger with Piers . 
" Was it studying my interests to bring your girl friend to my party for the labourers ? " she demanded . 
" To have her act as hostess in my absence ? " 
He looked at her , not wrathfully now , but quizzically . 
" My girl friend , as you call her , remained as much in the background as even you could wish . " 
He patted the Boxer 's huge head . 
" Judy , here , was more forthcoming . 
In fact , she trotted round , obviously trying to make everyone feel at home , gazing reproachfully at the few timid ones who bolted . " 
She was tempted to laugh , but it was as though that barb still stuck in her quivering flesh . 
" You 've an answer — of sorts — for everything , " she said shortly . 
" Personally I 've no more to say , so I suggest we get along . " 
To her great relief they arrived at the cluster of little houses where Hubert had been living to find the old man stowing in leisurely fashion his few possessions into a ramshackle and incredibly ancient car , surrounded by innumerable friends and relatives . 
Their air of smiling somnolence showed them to have been guests at yesterday 's celebrations , and their friendly welcome and warm sympathy , as she explained how she had come to miss the party , made her send a complacent glance in Piers ' direction . 
What a fuss-box the man was , she thought impatiently , trying to worry her into the belief that her failure to appear at a function on the estate was a major error : that it was the kind of thing that , with these simple folk , spoiled the master-servant relationship . 
And then she received a jolt . 
Old Hubert , standing beside her , his battered hat in his hand , his toothless mouth stretched in a wide grin , told her in halting patois that " Mistah Piers " had explained right at the start that " Mis ' Beryl " would be { 3 " plenty , plenty sad " not to be back at the Villa in time . 
That it would n't be her fault at all . 
That she was a lady who , like her Uncle Charles , took the highest pride in keeping her word . 
" I could see anudder t'ing , " he went on in a lower voice , his sunken black eyes twinkling . 
{ 3 " He powerful anxious , poor Mistah Piers . 
We all know how Balicou Island dangerous to all kin' o' boats , wid d'ose big , big rocks in an' out o' de water . 
He full o' fear you comin' bad harm , Mis Beryl . 
I see it in his eyes , even when he smilin' and larkin' wid us . 
I knowin' him well , Missie . 
He always sayin' he one of us , 'cos he born an' bred in de islands . 
An' he say for true ! " 
This sidelight on Piers had its effect on Beryl . 
Without taking it too seriously she found herself regretting some of the sharp things she had said to him and when , her goodbyes said , she climbed back into the jeep , preparatory to returning to the Villa , it was with the resolve to make up her quarrel with him — to achieve , at least , a surface peace . 
" You do n't say ? " 
"Yes sir ! 
That 's Gene all right . 
Say , did he tell you what a rotten deal he 's got , and is still gettin' from that Hawley girl he married ? 
Mr. Goddard , if that woman had treated him half way decent she would 've found out she 'd got herself one of them perfect husbands . 
But no ! 
She ai nt got sense enough to see that , even if she is Dan Hawley 's daughter , which personally I think she ai nt . " 
"What do you mean by that , Constable ? " 
"Well , she could be a sort of catch-colt , could n't she , or some poor baby Hawley and his wife adopted because they could n't have any kids of their own . 
I tell you , Mr. Goddard , I would lay down my life for Gene Pelcher , I admire him that much . " 
"Well , I never make it a practice to inquire into a man 's personal or marital affairs , Constable , here is where I turn in . " 
Too dense to recognize this dismissal for what it was , Nick Newell would have continued the almost one-sided conversation if Murdock had not called from the platform in front of his store — 
" How you feeling now , Brother Goddard ? 
You look like you were a little bunged up , from the way you walk . " 
"Well , I will say , Brother Murdock , " Goddard answered with a sigh , " that the other day when I was out on that rabbit hunt I overdid myself a little . 
From now on I am going to walk a little among the hills every day , extending the length of my walks slightly each day till I can get myself back in condition among these wonderful mountains . " 
"Now there 's a man I 'd tie to , if he ever give me the chance , " the constable told himself happily as Goddard went into the hotel . 
" Durned if I do n't like him most as much as I like and trust Gene Pelcher , by jingo , I do ! 
But havin' an official position , I just got to be close-mouthed in expressin' my opinion of other men . " 
On Poverty Flat , which was a comparatively level stretch of gravelly ground that had once been part of the lake bed , Orestus Hancock had had erected one of the finest houses in all the mountain county . 
It was large and comfortable and practical , though there were houses in Geneva that were adorned with more " gingerbread " . 
He had not disturbed nature , except close to the house where there were gravelled walks and a drive turning in to the painted stable and carriage house at the rear . 
The house itself had a shake hip-roof that covered a wide porch that extended on both sides and both ends of the building which contained seven large rooms , in addition to quarters for Willie Kim , the Chinaman the judge and Bill had brought from San Francisco eight years before , to serve as cook and housekeeper and sometimes family consultant and adviser . 
The wide veranda was not only screened all around , it had hinged windows that could be raised or lowered as weather conditions dictated . 
Now as the judge sat in a large easy chair on the front portion of this veranda , he had before him the path that led to the pier which projected about a hundred feet out into the lake . 
The more than a mile of water was violently disturbed today , and across this expanse of uneasy water the ground rose to where it rounded off as a thickly brushed mountain . 
Until a couple of hours before the judge had felt easier in mind than he had felt for a long time . 
Since Bill had had his fight with Goddard in Pinenut he had seemed to have changed completely . 
The judge could not think of Bill 's defeat by Goddard as a thing of much importance except that possibly defeat by a smaller , lighter man had brought Bill back to his senses and made him see the futility of the life he had been leading . 
He had almost entirely settled back into his old ways , even to reading law about two hours each day . 
Though he did not refuse wine , which the judge always had on the table at dinner , he did not act as though he found it necessary except in moderate compliance with his father 's habit . 
In one respect the judge was not at peace of mind , and probably never would be . 
Though he never expected to attain the happiness he yearned for in a daughter-in-law and grandchildren , he knew the big house would never really be complete until Kate , as Bill 's wife , brought children to it . 
She would be here now , and probably with a little one he might jounce on his knee , if it had not been for the narrow-minded priggishness of Dan Hawley and his wife . 
" From what I have heard , " he mused with a sigh that had considerable bitterness in it , " they would have thought themselves socially besmirched because of poor Bill 's deluded mother . 
May God have mercy on her soul ! 
And may Lombard burn in hell ! 
In his hands she was as putty , and I myself am by no means blameless for not having given more time and attention to her and less to the acquisition of wealth , yes , and the establishment of a high reputation as an attorney at law . " 
Now the judge was not thinking about what might have been but for Dan Hawley and his wife . 
He was thinking , even worrying about his son . 
Soon after ten o'clock , when the lake had been as smooth as blue water could be , Bill had set off in his sixteen-foot yawl with Bueno Buck , a strapping young Pomo Indian , to row for him . 
Bill had intended to do some trolling for lake trout beyond the rounded promontory around which the shore bent to make the mile-wide cove before it straightened out toward The Narrows above which the main body of the lake lay . 
Now the judge was not worried about the permanence of the change in his son . 
He was alarmed for Bill 's safety . 
Rising two hours earlier than was its habit , the northwest wind , prevalent at this season , was marching high , white-capped waves down the lake , breaking them into spray against the point and against the opposite shore , and even sending spray so high it sometimes covered the pier . 
Of course in such a gale Bill and Bueno Buck could tie up in the far end of the mile-wide cove and wait for the wind to blow itself out , which it would probably do along toward sunset . 
But would they do it ? 
Bill had said he would be back home not later than one o'clock . 
The judge had decided that Bill and the young Indian had accepted the inevitable and sensibly decided to wait for the gale to blow itself out when he caught and held his breath , then rose hastily . 
Around that rounded rocky promontory where the white spray could be seen flying across the distance of a mile and a half , came the yawl under her full triangular sail , and to the judge 's frightened eyes , so close to the rocks that it would be dashed against them with the lift of the next wave . 
" That boy ! 
That damned fool boy ! 
What does he mean by trying to come home now , even if he did promise ? 
What does time mean when weighed against the life of two human beings ? " 
Not until he was certain that the yawl had rounded the rocky point instead of being flung against the huge boulders did the judge empty his lungs of stifling air and refill them with part of that howling northwest gale . 
But his fright and alarm were not gone , they were merely lessened . 
He could see that a figure , undoubtedly that of his beloved fool son , was now sitting in the stern sheets as the yawl quartered out into the lake , and another figure close against the weather gunwale was apparently bailing fast , with as near frenzy as a young Indian who could swim like a fish could come to frenzy . 
Not until he was certain the yawl had successfully got away from the rocks did the judge begin to stride to and fro on his wide veranda , and then not really realizing what he was doing . 
He was almost like the captain of a rudderless ship pacing his own bridge . 
What control had he over that tiny craft that was lifting to a wave crest , then dropping from sight in a trough ? 
When the wind was on a rampage , as it was now , it could kick up a sea-sized commotion where it had a straight blow of eight miles down the lake . 
{ 3 " Big blow , Judge , " remarked Willie Kim as the wind billowed out and sucked in his baggy black blouse and pantaloons. { 3 " Blow like hell . 
Maybe by and by she blow some more . " 
"Hello , Willie , where did you come from ? " the judge said in mild surprise . 
" I did n't hear you . 
Do you see that fool boy of mine out there on the lake ? " 
{ 3 " I see him . 
You do n't need worry , Judge . 
Big wind like that ca n't drown good man . 
Bill is good man , and Bueno Buck is raised on lake . 
He no drown , too . 
Him , his mother throw him into water to make him swim when he is born . 
Maybe so Bill , he can swim that good , too . " 
CHAPTER 19 
THE yawl , riding the high waves with an air that might have made an ocean liner envious , seemed prepared to make a safe though violent landing when there came a sudden gust of wind from the west . 
" My God ! " the judge cried out . 
" The boy is going to try to make a landing on the weather side of that pier ! 
He 'll wreck ! " 
Willie Kim was speechless , only his slant black eyes showing any emotion . 
With a quick shift of tiller , and at the same time jibbing the boom to which he had the stay rope fastened , Bill made the yawl recover . 
It seemed to the frightened judge as though his son would actually shoot the craft in under the outer end of the wharf . 
But by pressing the tiller hard over and at the same time dropping the small sheet of wet canvas , Bill cleared the corner of the pier by inches , and with the tiller still hard over , brought the yawl up against the waves with sufficient momentum to permit Bueno Buck , now on his feet with a coiled rope in left hand a cowboy loop in right , to toss the loop over one of the piles that projected upward for about three feet , from the lee side of the pier . 
" Willie , " the judge said huskily , " that was as pretty a piece of seamanship as I ever saw . 
That boy of mine seems to know how to do everything , when he wants to . " 
"Naw , " disputed Willie . 
{ 3 " Just play in damn fine luck this time . 
He plenty smart though . " 
As they reached the pier , the judge on legs that were a little unsteady , they found Bueno Buck , now on the pier , leading the yawl toward the wave-battered shore . 
" Hello , Dad ! " 
Bill called . 
" I hope you were n't worried . 
We 're going to drag the boat ashore and turn her over . 
She has a foot of water in her . 
I would n't be surprised if we broke all speed records on the way in . 
Yes sir , I am slightly wet , and Buck would be wetter if he had more clothes on . " 
With four doing the job and the waves pushing at the stern , the yawl was soon dragged out but before it was turned over Bueno Buck reached into the foot of water , tossed out a string of silvery lake trout and said — 
{ 3 " Bill , he 's better man at catch 'em than Injun , Judge . 
You look . 
Little one more as fifteen inches . 
Maybe big one four feet , huh ? " 
"By George , that is a beautiful string of fish ! " exclaimed the judge . 
" Toss them on the grass and then we 'll all get hold and heave . " 
A few moments later the yawl was upside down , exposing its shallow keel . 
Bertram 's face was grim . 
" You think it was the Snort , do n't you ? " 
John gave a short laugh . 
" I did , " he said ; " but I 'd better stop thinking that now . 
Pericles is fitted with an identically similar one . " 
" So there you are , my dear . " 
Peggy 's eyes filled with tears . 
" It 's so unfair , " she said . 
" That little beast Robbie Munyard spent six months ashore while Pericles was refitting in the dockyard and now that she 's ready for sea he goes sick . 
Just because he 's an Honourable he can do what he likes . 
Anyway , why pick on you to succeed him ? " 
John did n't answer . 
There was no point in sharing his discomfort with Peggy . 
A submariner 's wife needed to be spared as much as possible . 
Anyway the Parsifal affair was far too fresh in both their minds to be a comfortable subject for discussion . 
" It 's a command , " he said . 
" We can do with the extra money . 
It 'll just about pay Jacky 's school fees . " 
"What shall we do about this house ? — and Jill 's school ? — and oh ! how I hate the Navy ! 
If I 'd known what it would be like I 'd sooner have married a parson . " 
He kissed her . 
" Parsons work on Sundays , " he said . 
" They 're worse off than submariners . 
You ought to have married that fat stockbroker chap and shared him with his three mistresses . 
Anyway it might be much worse . 
Pericles is a Portsmouth boat . 
She spends longer in harbour than any other submarine . 
Practically a shore job . 
Cheer up . " 
She wiped her eyes and reached for her address book . 
" I 'll write to those agents and try to get a flat in Alverstoke , " she said . 
" But I do n't know what Jill will say about leaving her school . 
It 's a blessing that Jacky 's off to boarding school . 
And all the trouble you 've taken with the garden ! 
That little beast , Robbie Munyard ! " 
Having said her say Peggy manfully shouldered her burden and prepared to break up yet another home . 
In the ten years of married life this had already happened half a dozen times . 
Such is the life of a naval officer 's wife . 
John 's father had been a naval officer of the old school ; some of his rigid ideas had been passed on to the second generation . 
One of these was that an officer should join a ship , on taking up a new appointment , at nine a.m. precisely , dressed in the modern equivalent of frock-coat and sword . 
It would have been acceptable to all concerned if John had stepped into Fort Blockhouse clad in plain-clothes on the previous night , but ways instilled by martinet parents have a habit of sticking . 
So he put up for the night at The Admiral 's Head , that famous Portsmouth hostelry , second only in historic interest to The George , unhappily destroyed by German bombs during the last war . 
Having deposited his baggage and unpacked his overnight-bag he went in search of a drink . 
The lower bar was empty , save for the lady known by all habitue2s as " Seaweed " , and a youngish , sharp-eyed man who was staring moodily into a gin and tonic . 
Seaweed 's memory was prodigious ; her manner must have been worth a great deal to the proprietors of the hotel . 
She greeted John , however , with less than her usual cordiality and flashed a warning glance at him . 
Evidently the other occupant of the bar was not { 6persona grata . 
If her memory was good , so was this stranger 's . 
" You 're Commander Winter , " he said . 
" Have a gin ? " 
He turned to Seaweed — " Make it a large one , darling . 
I know the naval habits . 
" Drink gin and call each other wallahs , what ! " — as the Guards officer said on his return from a visit to the Royal Navy . 
Submarines , what . 
Youngest D.S.C . 
in the war , what ? 
Crawled inside a submarine casing to defuse a Jerry bomb . 
Should have been a V.C. What are you waiting for , darling ? 
The officer is obviously thirsty . " 
John fought back his inherited desire to snub the man . 
If he did he would have to leave the bar and either sit in the lounge or return to his bedroom . 
Seaweed sensed his embarrassment and came to the rescue . 
" You have n't introduced yourself , " she said with mock severity . 
" It 's a rule on these premises . 
No treating with strangers — that 's right , John , is n't it ? " 
"My fault entirely , " said the stranger . 
" It 's my conceited nature — I assumed that you both knew who I was . 
I 'm Ian Bawley . 
Does that mean anything to you ? " 
It did . 
Ian Bawley 's name was printed at the head of most naval articles in the Daily Courier . 
" Oh , the Press , " said Seaweed . 
" Down here on business , Mr. Bawley ? " 
"A pressman is always on the job . " 
He held out his hand and John could not do otherwise than take it . 
" Pleased to meet you , Commander , " he said . 
" Now what about that drink ? " 
John nodded — he could afford to buy one in return and he was lonely . 
" For the sake of accuracy , " he said , " and I know how you newspaper people value that commodity ! — please do n't address me as Commander . 
I 'm a Lieutenant-Commander . 
Perhaps we could drop the rank — such a mouthful ! " 
"You 're absolutely right , " said Bawley , as he pushed over his glass . 
" Fill it up , darling . 
Accuracy above all else . 
We pride ourselves about accuracy on the Courier . 
Ever known us bowl a wide about your Service ? 
Check and counter-check — nothing but the truth . 
Somewhat embarrassing , what ? " 
"How can the truth be embarrassing ? " 
John sipped his double gin with relish . 
It was his favourite brand , he was on the verge of a new chapter in his career , and his companion 's attitude was challenging . 
Life at home and in Bath had been a trifle too comfortable and humdrum . 
He 'd never before met a pressman and found him curiously stimulating . 
" You 're a bit of a humorist , are n't you ? " said Bawley . 
" The truth is usually very embarrassing . 
You 're in submarines , are n't you ? " 
"You know a great deal about me , " said John . 
" It 's my business . 
I 'll tell you more . 
You 're going to take over command of Pericles . 
Am I right ? " 
"Who told you ? " 
"Little bird . 
Other half ? " 
John nodded . 
" On me . " 
Bawley shook his head . 
" All paid for by His Lordship , " he said . 
" Expense account . 
You 're a married man with a couple of kids . 
Ca n't go wasting your substance on a complete stranger . 
Set 'em up , darling ! " 
John flushed . 
" I 'm not in need of charity . " 
"Come off it , " said Bawley . 
" The proprietor of the Daily Courier knows what 's going on . 
If he does n't mind , why should you ? " 
"I see . " 
John took the refilled glass and looked over the rim at his companion . 
" You want me to talk , is that it ? " 
"You misjudge me , " said Bawley . 
" You have nothing to tell me , yet . 
But we 'll be meeting again , no doubt , and then you will have . 
Regard this as a softening-up process , and have dinner with me ? 
On His Lordship , of course . " 
"On one condition , " said John . 
" Tell me who the little bird was . " 
"Ca n't you guess ? 
Whose portrait appears regularly in the shiny papers ? " 
"You mean Munyard ? " 
"Sure . 
Very useful contact , is our Robbie ; he gives us the gen and we give him the publicity . 
" The Honourable " Robbie " and friend " , what ? 
You know the sort of thing . " 
"You 'll get nothing out of me , " said John , " but you can pay for my drinks if you want to , as long as you keep off Service matters . " 
"Good-oh ! 
One for the grill-room , darling , and tell George to bring in the { 6carte du jour . " 
Bawley was a man of his word . 
He kept away from Service matters , was an excellent host and a splendid raconteur . 
The evening passed all too quickly . 
As they parted in the vestibule the two men were well disposed towards each other . 
" Ever been to Fleet Street ? " asked Bawley . 
" You should . 
Next time you 're in Town give me a ring at this number and I 'll take you round the pubs where most of the work is done . " 
He held out a card . 
John took it and put it in his pocket . 
" Thanks , " he said . 
" If ever my missus lets me off the chain I 'll take you up on that . 
Ever been out in a submarine ? 
I 'll give you a spin round one of these days , if you like . 
You could write it up . " 
Bawley made a face . 
" Not in Pericles , old man . " 
"Why not ? " 
"Better ask Robbie Munyard . " 
"What 's he been saying ? " 
John was furious . 
The little squirt ! 
To go gassing to a newspaper man ! 
" Look ! " he went on earnestly . 
" You 're not going to write up Pericles in some way or other , are you ? " 
"What is there to write up ? " said Bawley . 
" There are forty-three submarines in the Navy — why should I pick on Pericles ? " 
John eyed him steadily . 
" It 's the Parcifal business , is n't it ? " he said quietly . 
" I do n't want it to happen again , " said Bawley — " more so than ever since I met you . " 
"What did Munyard say ? " 
"The Snort — hull fitting fractured . " 
"Supposing I was to tell you that we 've had Pericles ' entire Snort equipment removed and X-rayed and that it was as sound as a bell ? " said John . 
" Munyard did n't tell me that . 
But I must confess I 'm relieved . 
But it still does n't do away with the possibility of faulty design . " 
He held out his hand . 
" Maybe I will take a trip with you one of these days , " he said . 
" In the meantime I 'll tell my editor that the story 's a dead bird . 
Glad I met you . 
Do n't forget to give me a ring — any time — knock twice and ask for Bawley , what ? " 
"I do n't know when that will be , " said John . 
" I shall be busy for a while , cleaning up after Master bloody Munyard. " 2 CAPTAIN HENRY TURTON , D.S.O. , R.N. 
THERE were six submarines , lying in pairs alongside the jetty at Fort Blockhouse . 
Black and grimly businesslike they both looked and sounded , for all of them were rumbling as they charged their electric batteries . 
A light wind wafted the smoke of diesel exhaust in through the open windows of the Captain 's house . 
It pervaded every room but neither Harry nor Madeleine Turton noticed its existence as they sat in silence over a substantial breakfast . 
Although usually a very talkative lady Madeleine respected her husband 's silences , for she knew they betokened a worry of some sort . 
There had been many such breakfasts lately since the affair of Parsifal . 
Harry had lost a good deal of weight . 
His normal placid and steady-going manner remained , but she could see that it no longer came naturally . 
It is the common lot of all Squadron Senior Officers to experience such catastrophes as the loss of a submarine , though in peace time these happenings are few and far between . 
This is the testing time for all . 
The affair blows up into a national disaster and then when it is all over life must continue as before . 
During this period the Captain must present an unruffled appearance and carry on as if nothing unusual has happened . 
Harry Turton had written letters to the bereaved , had visited many in the locality , had been interviewed by the Press , had driven his surviving submarines a good deal harder than usual and in fact had applied all the usual specifics suitable for such occasions . 
The worst was over now , except for the Pericles affair . 
It had never occurred to Harry Turton that Robbie Munyard , popular as he was , especially with the ladies , son of a famous man and an ( apparently ) well weathered submariner , should go to pieces as he had done with disastrous effects on the morale of his crew ; but he had . 
Quite suddenly he 'd walked into the office and declared that his command was not fit to go under water and then he had burst into tears . 
Now he was at the naval hospital . 
Acute neurasthenia , said the Surgeon-Rear-Admiral . 
The affair had been handled quietly and efficiently but rumours of this extraordinary scene in the office had reached to the far corners of the establishment . 
Munyard had left his jitters behind . 
Long conferences had been held between Harry Turton and his Admiral in which various alterations had been debated . 
Fred was eyeing Hanson with a little tingle passing up and down his spine . 
This police inspector looked genuine enough , but Freeman was taking no chances . 
The fact that the inspector was a total stranger increased his suspicions . 
Fred was well acquainted with most of the police officers who operated in this district .... 
" Sorry , sir , " he said blandly . 
" I 'd better tell you the truth , I think . 
No need for you to waste your time . 
Mr. Conquest went out some time ago . " 
Hanson 's lips tightened . 
He believed this to be a lie . 
Landis had been watching , and he was convinced that the Conquests had not left — and Landis was a man who had been well trained for work of this kind . 
" So Mr. Conquest went out ? " said Hanson , with ominous calm . 
" I 'd advise you not to lie to me , my man . 
If Conquest gave you orders to say that he was out ... " 
"No , sir . 
He went out . 
I saw him go . " 
"When did he go ? 
And where ? " 
"Did n't say where , sir — never does say . " 
"When do you expect him back ? " 
"Never expect him back , sir , " said Fred , in the same bland voice . 
" He 's a very uncertain young gentleman , is Mr. Conquest . 
Might be hours . 
Might be days . " 
"Was he alone ? " 
"No , sir . 
His wife was with him . " 
Hanson was now certain that Freeman was lying . 
Landis could not possibly have missed seeing the small , attractive figure of Joy . 
Hanson was rapidly becoming exasperated , and he showed it in his manner . 
" Who else is in the flat ? " he snapped . 
" Nobody , sir . " 
"No servants ? " 
"There 's Miss Bliss , the housekeeper , but she left an hour ago . 
And there 's Livingstone , who looks after Mr. Conquest 's car , and does odd jobs . 
He went out , too . 
The flat 's empty . " 
Hanson swore . 
" Listen to me , my man , " he said grimly , as he laid a hard hand on Fred 's arm . 
" We in the police are well aware of Conquest and his tricky ways . 
He may live like a gentleman in an expensive penthouse , but he 's worse than half the crooks in London . 
You 're lying to me — on his orders . 
Take me up to the penthouse at once . " 
"What 's the use ? " asked Freeman . 
" It 's empty . " 
He was inwardly excited . 
He believed this police inspector to be a phony , and he had to decide what to do on the spur of the moment . 
It was the first time he had ever been required to take a really active part in one of his employer 's enterprises , and he was thrilled . 
" That 's enough , " said Hanson curtly . 
" Take me up immediately . " 
"All right , sir . " 
Freeman led the way to the private lift , and a minute later they were ascending . 
At the top , as soon as the door slid open , Hanson stepped out , and was annoyed to find Freeman following him . 
The lounge was empty . 
" All right — you can take the lift down , " said Hanson curtly " I sha n't need you now . " 
"No , sir , " said Fred stubbornly . 
" I 've had the guv'nor 's orders not to let anybody into the flat , and if you was n't a policeman I would n't have let you in . 
I 'm staying until you 've finished . " 
Hanson had not expected this difficulty . 
Even in his role of a police inspector there was a limit to the amount of ordering he could do . 
It would be dangerous to arouse this porter 's suspicions . 
Also , the lounge was very empty , and the entire penthouse was silent , with no sign of life . 
" Mr. Conquest ! " shouted Hanson loudly . 
Silence — except for a discreet cough from Fred . 
" I told you there was n't anybody home , " he said . 
" No good you shouting , sir . " 
"Stay where you are , " snapped Hanson . 
He was not only puzzled , but alarmed . 
The Conquests were here — they must be here . 
If they had left , Landis would have seen them . 
Hanson suspected a trick . 
With a hand in the pocket of his uniform jacket — where he carried the gun — he made for the nearest door . 
It led through into the kitchen quarters . 
Everything tidy and neat , but no living thing present . 
Hanson quickly explored Aunt Susan 's bedroom , which was also in this part of the penthouse . 
Baffled , he returned to the lounge . 
An examination of the bedrooms and bathroom led to the same result . 
Empty . 
He passed through the passage , watched amusedly by Fred , into the garage . 
No sign of life here , either . 
The shiny Merce2de3s was there , its windows shattered as of the previous night . 
" Hell ! " muttered Hanson under his breath . 
He inwardly cursed Landis . 
The man had obviously fallen down on his job . 
In some way , every occupant of the penthouse had left the premises — and Landis had not seen them go . 
It was understandable that Aunt Susan and Livingstone had escaped the watcher 's attention ; but it was incredible that he could have missed such striking figures as those of Norman and Joy . 
How the devil had he been tricked ? 
" Well , sir ? " asked Freeman patiently , as Hanson re-entered the lounge . 
" You appear to have been right , " admitted Hanson savagely . 
" There 's nobody here . 
Take me down . " 
He made a move towards the lift , and then halted . 
He had caught sight of a card prominently displayed on the cocktail bar . 
He strode across , and examined it — and a fluttery sensation assailed his stomach . 
The card simply said — " Back on April the nineteenth . " 
The implication was obvious . 
The world , in Conquest 's opinion , would still be functioning after the expiration of the True Prophet 's deadline . 
Hanson inwardly squirmed . 
This young hell-hound was prepared for everything ! 
He had even suspected that the opposition would invade the penthouse , and he had left this card for their benefit ! 
Hanson 's very appearance — his hard breathing , his frustration , his savage expression — assured Fred Freeman that he was a fake . 
No genuine police inspector would have reacted in this way . 
And Fred was agog with excitement because he had suddenly decided to make a move which might , or might not , meet with Conquest 's approval . 
He was going to act on his own initiative , and his heart began to pump . 
" I 'm sorry , sir , " he said , striving to keep his voice normal , " but there 's one room you have n't seen . 
At least , I do n't think you 've seen it . 
I meant to tell you about it . 
It 's a sort of private room . 
Mr. Conquest might be there . " 
Hanson swung round , staring . 
" A private room ? " 
"Yes , sir . 
You would n't have seen it . " 
"Take me to it . " 
Hanson had no suspicion that this ordinary-looking porter was adopting something of his employer 's technique . 
He was not surprised , however , to hear that the flat contained a " private room . " 
Fedder had told him a great deal about the trickiness of the young man who signed himself "1066 . " 
It was unfortunate , however , that Fedder had not mentioned the " private room " — which Fedder himself had occupied , to his mortification , at the time when Conquest had been getting to grips with Pierre Dacca , the Paris criminal . 
" This way , sir . " 
Fred was quivering with eagerness . 
He led the way into the laboratory , which Hanson had already examined . 
A plain , austere apartment , gleaming with porcelain-tiled walls and glass shelves . 
Fred went straight across to the plain wall opposite the door . 
" It 's here , sir , " he said , grinning . 
" What are you trying to do — make a fool of me ? " shouted Hanson . 
" There 's no doorway in that wall . " 
Fred reached up , but Hanson did not see what his hand was doing ; all he knew was that a portion of the wall silently opened , revealing a void . 
Lights sprang on , and Hanson found himself staring into a comfortable little inner room , where there was a lounge and other articles of furniture . 
He took rapid steps to the doorway , and peered in . 
A fatal move .... 
For Hanson had placed himself exactly where Fred Freeman required him . 
A quick shove , and Hanson blundered headlong into the inner room . 
Before he could recover his balance , the wall had closed upon him . 
Fred , on his side , breathed heavily . 
" Blimey , I hope I 've done right ! " he muttered , thoroughly scared now that the thing had been accomplished . 
Months ago , Conquest had shown Freeman the secret of the inner room , saying that it might be useful , one day , for Fred to know about it . 
For Conquest trusted the man implicitly , and with good reason . 
Fred was as loyal as Livingstone himself . 
But this was the first time he had ever actively assisted Norman , and the occasion rather overawed him . 
He remembered something else . 
He again turned to the blank wall , and this time a little cubby-hole opened , not far from the door — much too small to admit the exit of a human body . 
He bent down , and saw Hanson 's face staring at him . 
" How do you like it , mister ? " asked Fred recklessly . 
" You a police inspector ? 
A cop ? 
Like my foot ! 
When do you think I was born — yesterday ? " 
"My God ! " panted Hanson , his brain nearly bursting . 
He had been alarmed to find himself trapped , but to see the gloating face of his trapper peering at him through this hole was more than his nerve could stand . 
" Conquest put you up to this ! " he snarled . 
" Let me out of here ! " 
He pulled the gun out of his pocket and thrust it forward , thus certifying himself as a fake — for no genuine police inspector carries a gun . 
" Put your hands up ! " 
Fred laughed . 
The threat was so idle that he could afford to laugh . 
All the same , he lost no time in sliding along the wall , out of range . 
There was still the danger that the trapped man would reach as far as possible through the opening , and use the gun , but Fred scotched this by operating the mechanism again , and causing the opening to close itself up . 
Not that he need have worried ; for Hanson was no gunman , and in the excitement of the moment he had forgotten to release the safety-catch of the automatic . 
" I was right , " whispered Fred to himself , with jubilation . 
" He 's a phony . " 
The word put an idea into his head , and he hurried through to the lounge and went to the phone . 
He dialled a Streatham number , and in a few moments was gratified to hear Conquest 's clear voice . 
" It 's me , sir — Fred , " panted the porter . 
" Something 's happened , sir . 
I do n't know whether I 've done right , but I hope I have . " 
"You sound hoarse , Fred . 
Calm down , and tell me exactly what happened , " came Conquest 's voice . 
" Spare no details , however slight , for I suspect that your singular narrative will be fraught with interest . " 
"Come off it , Mr. Conquest , " protested Fred . 
" This is serious . 
I 've got a man locked up in your secret room .... " 
He went into details , describing exactly what had happened .... 
" Did I do right , sir ? " he ended anxiously . 
" The word " right " is totally inadequate , Fred , " replied Norman , with a chuckle in his voice . 
" Well done ! 
As nice a piece of work as I can remember . 
I thought there might be some kind of enemy activity , although I hardly expected it to explode so soon . 
This blighter has a gun , eh ? 
You 'd better warn Bill Williams about that . " 
"Mr. Williams , sir ? " 
"Yes . 
As soon as we 've hung up , get through to Scotland Yard , ask for the superintendent , and tell him what you 've got . 
He 'll be charmed . 
Another of the ungodly for Bill 's collection . 
We 're not doing so badly , Fred . 
This bloke of yours seems to be one of the more important specimens . " 
The porter , who had not the faintest idea of the game which Conquest was playing , asked no questions . 
He was satisfied with Norman 's words of praise , and he lost no time in getting in touch with Scotland Yard .... 
At Hampstead , Fedder was impatiently awaiting Hanson 's return . 
He was not too satisfied with Hanson . 
More than once , since they had parted , he had felt that he should have sent a more determined , more ruthless man on this particular assignment . 
Too late now , of course . 
All he could do was wait . 
The truth was , Fedder had been pitchforked into near-panic action by the fear that Conquest , if any delay took place , would elude him . 
There were tears in her eyes then and it was a mighty big temptation to back down and tell her to stay which would be just what I would want in my goddam selfish way . 
So instead I hardened my heart , and it was real hard work . 
Even Matt Tompkins gave me a dirty look . 
I expect he figured I was a real mean hombre . 
" I 'll be here to see you onto the stage tomorrow morning , " I said . 
" Meantime I should stay indoors . 
This town is no health resort . " 
"Amen to that , " said Ma Tompkins unexpectedly . 
" It 's a sink of iniquity , a real Sodom and Gomorrow . " 
"Gomorrah , " I said absent-minded like . 
My Pa never made any mistake over words from the good book . 
" So-long then till tomorrow , Miss Jeannie , and look after yourself . " 
And with those weak words I walked on out , avoiding Jeannie Bain 's accusing eyes and wishing I had the strength to say a half of all the things I 'd have liked to say to her . 
I stood around in the early morning sunlight not knowing quite what to do next and then of course I remembered that I had better go find Dan Maffrey and get him wised up about last night 's occurrences . 
I ambled on from Ma Tompkins 's house to the livery stable . 
The owner was inside rubbing down a horse . 
I stood around watching him and listening to him hiss through his teeth in the peculiar way hostlers have . 
" That 's a fine horse you 've got there , mister , " I said at last . 
He broke off his hissing for a brief space and took a quick look at me . 
" Yes , " he said . 
" It 's a Morgan . 
Belongs to the Town Marshal . " 
Something in his eyes as he said this , a swift flicker of double knowledge , made me think . 
Here was someone who 'd known all about Bill Appleton and someone who 'd had enough time to let Pell and his gang know about Appleton 's movements and identity too . 
Someone maybe who 'd been at the meeting . 
This man had been at the meeting too . 
" You heard what happened to Appleton after the meeting ? " 
I said . 
" Yeah , " he said . 
" I heard . " 
"Someone must have arranged that , " I went on . 
" Mebbe so . 
I jest hear things . 
Everyone talks to liverymen . " 
"Yes , " I said . 
" There 's too much pow-wowing going on hereabouts . " 
He came out from behind the Marshal 's horse . 
" You want your pony , mister ? " 
"Yes , " I said , " I 'll take a little pasear around . 
Maybe I 'll hear a little more talk along the trail and maybe I 'll find out who killed Bill Appleton . " 
He went off then to get Bessie from an inner stall . 
She came along and whickered when she saw me . 
The liveryman pulled my rig off a nail and slapped it on the mare . 
" You coming back ? " he said when he 'd got the saddle fixed . 
" I aim to , " I said , cold as a fish . 
" This town kind of grows on me . " 
I climbed up onto Bessie and he watched me with resentment , fear and self-disgust fighting for possession of his face . 
I rode out and away from town at a quiet trot . 
I would circle around and try to find Dan Maffrey on the other side in the hidey-hole he 'd ridden off to last night . 
It took me an hour to make my circle of the town . 
I found the trail along which Dan must have come in . 
It was well-worn , wheel-marked and dusty . 
It would be the trail up to Colorado , I figured . 
About four miles along , it swung north-east , twisting and turning through rough country with big rocks sticking out all round . 
A coach , I thought , would have to slow up some on a trail like that . 
I trotted on . 
The perfect spot lay about half a mile further on , on an upgrade that was steep enough to slow any coach to a crawl . 
I reined in and took a look around . 
There were medium-sized rocks and mesquite bushes on both sides at the top , with enough cover for men and horses until the right moment . 
Further over , about four hundred yards west of the trail , the ground rose again to a ridge . 
I was staring at it when I heard a voice . 
" You got the same idea as me . " 
It was Dan of course , bellied down on the far side . 
I saw him stand up and then he disappeared for a moment , reappearing seconds later on his cayuse . 
He rode down to where I was waiting . 
I was thinking what a skill he had for reading my mind . 
" This would be as good a place for a hold-up as any , " he said , reining in near me . 
" Yes , " I said . 
" It 'll be here tomorrow as likely as not . " 
I paused . 
" Miss Jeannie 'll be on that coach , Dan . " 
"Yes , " he said . 
" I know . " 
"No harm must come to her , Dan . " 
"She 'll be all right . 
It 's the men who 'll be after that coach I 'm interested in , Johnny . " 
"I know . 
But if lead starts flying she might be in danger . " 
"That 's so . 
But I reckon they 'll be too busy shooting at us to bother with the coach and the folks in it . " 
"Maybe , " I said . 
" But we 've got to remember that girl all the time , Dan . 
I feel kind of responsible for her . " 
"Of course , " he said , giving me one of his strange looks . 
Then he turned the conversation . 
" Let's ride over and have a look at the mining camp . 
After all it 's them we 're supposed to be working for , as well as the townsfolk and the agency detective . " 
With something of a start I remembered the man who 'd brought us into this business . 
" Maybe you do n't know about Appleton , Dan ? " 
"Know what ? " 
"That he 's dead , " I said . 
I watched him because I was always fascinated by the way he looked when you tried to surprise him . 
" Dead ? " he said . 
" Yes . 
Dead . 
Shuffled out of the deck . 
Blasted down with a shotgun outside the Palace last night . " 
"Fenton or Somers , " he said . 
" Or the Town Marshal , " I added . 
His face was fixed , unreadable as a rock . 
" Let's get over to the mining camp , " he said abruptly . 
He wheeled his horse back off the trail and up the slope leading to the ridge . 
I followed . 
From the top you could see something of the wild hill country that lay all round Gilburg Crossing . 
The air was fresh and clear and you could see far over west and north for many miles . 
The real high country of the Rockies lifted up in the distance like a pale water-colour drawing . 
Between us and that lay a vast stretch of hills , canyons , buttes and malpais . 
" The mine-workings lie north of the town , " said Dan . 
" If we head west we ought to cut the trail leading from Gilburg to the north . " 
So we swung west , making slow going over rough country , sliding on shale , climbing down into draws , circling a big mesa by a four or five mile valley , sandy-floored . 
It got hotter as the day wore on and we rested gratefully by a small creek where we watered the horses and drank enough to cure our thirst . 
An hour 's riding brought us to a trail that we figured would lead to the miners ' camp . 
We turned north into it and after about four miles it led into a small canyon which opened out into a wide shallow draw . 
Here in a dried-up creek-bed we found the miners at work . 
They were scattered over a fairly wide area working singly or in pairs . 
We did n't approach unchallenged . 
Just short of the diggings there was a roughly-built shack and as we got near someone inside bawled out , 
" If you come any closer , I 'll sure blow your whiskers off . " 
"Take it easy , mister , " I sang out . 
" We do n't aim to come any closer and we 've got no whiskers so as you can see . 
Just you go and tell Nick Dowd we 've come to talk to him about what happened last night . " 
"Oh , " said the unseen guard . 
He blew a whistle then , loud and shrill . 
The gun barrel peeking out through a hole in the shack never wavered . 
We sat our horses , waiting . 
" Looks as though they 're expecting trouble , " I said . 
" Where there 's gold and women there 's always trouble , " observed Dan , shifting about in his saddle . 
He was never long on patience . 
I saw several men running down towards the shack . 
They were all armed with rifles . 
As the nearest of them came round the shack , his rifle at the ready , I saw it was Nick Dowd , still wearing his blue check shirt . 
He came up close , eyeing us suspiciously . 
" We 've come a-calling , " I said . 
" Ca n't see no reason for calling , " he said . 
" Still long as you 're here you may as well stay a while . 
'Light an' come on in . " 
We dismounted and one of the miners who 'd come along with Nick Dowd took our horses off to water . 
We followed Nick Dowd into the shack . 
They 'd rigged up a stove of sorts and on it a huge blackened coffee-pot steamed . 
Other miners followed in at our heels . 
Nick Dowd found us a couple of boxes to sit on . 
A small man in bib overalls and a battered Derby hat fussed around the stove . 
" Ai n't exactly the Ritz Hotel but we 've got our little comforts , " said Dowd . 
He introduced the men who 'd come in as Roper Smith , Shorty , Mick Golightly , Swede and the Sodbuster . 
This last was the little hombre in big overalls . 
Very soon he had tin mugs filled with hot black coffee sweetened with molasses for all and for us there were two plates of beans . 
" They gives you the wind , " said the Sodbuster handing them to us , "but it 's all we got as of now , apart from a few sacks of gold dust . " 
He winked at his partners . 
They all watched us as we ate the beans . 
Then when we 'd finished and I 'd rolled a cigarette the man called Shorty said , " You were saying when you came in that somep'n happened last night . " 
"Yes , " I said . 
" Something happened all right . 
After you 'd left the meeting , mister " — I looked across at Nick Dowd — " someone cut down William Appleton outside the Palace with a shotgun . " 
I paused and watched my words affect them in their different ways . 
" That 's sure bad news , " said Dowd , sombrely . 
" It jest about leaves everything wide open for Mr. Pell and his bunch , " observed Shorty . 
The rest of the men there said nothing but you could see they were hard hit . 
They were simple men who knew a lot maybe about digging for gold but were babes in arms when it came to dealing with owlhooters and desperadoes like Pell and Fenton and the rest . 
" I guess we 'd better hold onto the gold right hyar , Nick , " said the Sodbuster . 
" Yeah , " said Dowd dubiously . 
" Mebbe we 'd better . " 
Suprisingly Dan Maffrey came in at that point . 
" If you do , " he said , "you 'll be sure asking for trouble . 
They 'll be on your necks before you can say " knife " . 
It would n't be the first time they 've held up a diggings at gun point either . 
They 've done it before and got away with it . " 
"You 're durned tootin' , mister , " said the man called Roper Smith . 
" We 've got five rifles among us and a few six-shooters . 
But most of us ai n't eddicated in shootin' . 
It 'd be a massacree , yessir . " 
"If you 'll take a chance on getting your gold to the bank , then we 'll abide by what we said at the meeting , " said Dan . 
" We 'll watch the stage out of reach . " 
I could n't quite see how all this fitted in with Dan Maffrey 's aim to avenge himself on the Fenton bunch but still it was a handsome offer so I chimed in too . 
" That goes for me , gentlemen , " I said . 
" If they do try and hold up the stage , it 'll be a couple or three of them , no more . 
I reckon we can deal with them all right . " 
"All right , " said Dowd . 
" We 'll leave it as we planned it last night . " 
" An Apache will give plenty silver for a magazine rifle . 
And somebody is seeing that they get 'em . 
We 've been alerted . " 
Brock said , " Looks like I got here at the right time . " 
The Major 's smile was grim . 
" May need every man we can get . " 
"Count me in . 
I 'll keep an eye on Parkhurst — Slocum , if that 's what he wants to be called — while I look into other things . " 
"Like what ? " 
"Well ... 
Carlyle , for one . 
Just do n't like him . 
Look , Pete . 
Did n't it strike you funny , the way he clammed up on the shooting ? " 
Shaking his head , Ahrens said , "No , it did n't . 
I told you he was a cold fish . 
Asked a few questions on the way back yesterday , but nobody opened up . 
Did n't expect them to . 
Reckon we 'll just have to let the matter solve itself . " 
"I 'm not waiting . " 
"Now look , feller . 
It 's none of your business . " 
"I 'm making it my business . " 
"What in blazes got you so — " His eyes sparked with understanding . 
" Ahhhh ! 
I see , I see ! " 
He slowly nodded his head , smiling . 
" I told you she was a beauty . 
I told you . " 
"You 're crazy . " 
Brock felt a sudden warmth prickle his face . 
" Go climb your horse . 
Do n't know who you 're talking about . " 
"I 'll bet you do n't . 
Very well , Sure-shot . 
You 're a big boy now . 
Should be able to look after yourself without — " 
Brock waved the grinning Ahrens out of the shack . 
" Go play with your Indians , will you ! " 
"That 's just what I 'm going to do . 
Came up this way to look for Indian signs . 
Got patrols cutting the country . 
Our friend Carlyle should be grateful since his wagons will soon be back with supplies . 
Might be he 'll need a little Cavalry protection . " 
"You 're taking those dispatches seriously . " 
"Darn right I am . 
Anything about Indians I take seriously . 
And they 'd like to get their bloody hands on the beef and whisky and beer and stuff he hauls back . " 
"He ships out unbroken ore and brings back supplies ? " 
"Takes about a month . 
Due back in a few days . 
Goes south someplace . 
Anyway , much as I hate to do him a turn , it 's my duty to keep an eye out for him . " 
The troopers had been joshing with a starry-eyed Toma2s . 
They snapped to rigid silence as the Major approached and mounted his roan gelding . 
The boy ran to the gate , scraped it open , and waved the trotting detail on its way . 
" Mister Brock , " Toma2s asked , watching the riders through the haze of kicked up dust , " How long before I can be a soldier ? " 
Brock rumpled the boy 's hair . 
" Do n't be in a hurry . 
Enjoy what you have around here while you can . " 
"Oh , I do , Mister Brock . 
I do a lot of things here that I like . 
And I can ride the mules very well , too . " 
Pondering , he tipped the curly head to one side . 
" That is , Juanito I ride well . 
The other one , Diablo , does not like for me to get on the back . " 
"Then stay off . " 
"Oh yes . 
But not Juanito . 
He is a good mule . 
Sometimes I ride him almost as far as where the Sheriff lived . 
When I am a soldier , I will ride and ride and — " 
" Hold on , now . 
A soldier has to walk too . 
Walk far . " 
"Oh , I can walk far , Mister Brock . 
I can walk all the way to the mine . " 
"You keep away from the mine . 
No place for boys to play . " 
The suggestion of a pout puckered the boy 's face . 
" You talk like my mother talks . " 
"You listen to your mother . " 
"I have to . " 
Brock said , " A soldier must learn to take orders , do as he is told . 
Your mother is your commander — like the Major . 
See ? 
When she tells you not to go to the mine , that is an order . " 
The brown eyes rolled slowly upward , searching Brock 's serious gaze . 
Softly , the boy said , " It is ? " 
"It is . 
How about it ? 
A good soldier , or a bad boy ? " 
A tough decision to make . 
Half the fun of being a boy was in doing the things you were forbidden to do . 
On the other hand , to be a soldier ... ! 
The picture of snorting horses and blue uniforms and sheathed sabres was too fresh in his mind . 
" A soldier , Mister Brock . " 
"Promise ? 
On the honour of a soldier ? " 
The large eyes lit up . 
" I can do that ? 
I can promise — like a soldier ? " 
"You can . " 
"I do it , Mister Brock . 
I promise , like a soldier . " 
"No more going to the mine , then . " 
"No sir , Mister Brock . 
Soldier 's promise . " 
Chapter Eight 
It was late in the afternoon before Magdalena returned the cleaned and mended clothes . 
Saddling Rusty as soon as he was dressed , Brock cut eastward in search of the Stevens ' place . 
As long as he felt compelled to look into the shooting of the Sheriff , he might as well visit the victim 's late home . 
Maybe Stevens ' niece could furnish a clue , he told himself , as the proud chestnut stretched limber legs across the rocky soil . 
His interest was purely in the shooting ! 
Nothing else ! 
Topping a slight rise , he looked down on a squat white-painted frame cottage — a square box dumped in the middle of the drab desert with a white slat fence girdling it in uneven lines . 
Two low stringy shrubs afforded the only touch of green within sight . 
A weathered unpainted stable stood about fifty feet behind the cottage , and a man came out of it , carrying a shovel and bucket , and walked unhurriedly around the side . 
A dull orange shirt hung loosely over dust brown pants ; a red band circling long black strands of hair clearly identified him as an Indian . 
Touching Rusty , Brock guided the horse down the slope to the white picket gate , dismounting as the cottage door opened . 
She stood framed in the doorway , a formal full-length portrait with hands clasped before her , head high . 
The soft violet eyes — well , they were neither soft nor violet at the moment . 
" Just what do you want here , Mister Taylor ? " 
Whatever it was , he was not being invited to find it . 
" Why .... " 
He hesitated , hat in hand . 
" Just dropped by to say hello , Miss Stevens . 
We 're neighbours , y'know . " 
"Mister Carlyle told me . " 
He had been certain the eyes were more violet than grey . 
Could it have been the black dress of mourning that brought out such warm lights last evening ? 
Surely , the gown she now wore — corn-flower blue , waist-tight with full skirt — should complement tender violet tints instead of accentuating the cold impersonal grey stare that challenged him . 
" Just thought I 'd say hello , " he repeated awkwardly . 
" See if there 's anything I can do to — " 
"I assure you , sir , there is nothing worth spying on ! " 
"Spying ? " 
"Mister Carlyle told me ! " 
"Told you what , ma'am ? " 
He forced a smile on his lips , even though it had left his voice . 
" Of your — profession ! 
I was compelled to tolerate Yankee subjugation back home , sir . 
I hoped to be free of it out here . 
At least I could evade them when I saw blue uniforms . " 
"Sorry you feel that way , ma'am . 
But I do n't see what that has to do with calling me a spy . " 
"Please do n't try to brazen it out , Mister Taylor — if that is your name ! 
Your companions have the questionable decency to show their colours , but you ... " 
"Yes ... ? 
But me ? " 
She leaned forward , small fists clenched white at her sides . 
Sparking each word with bitter contempt , she accused him with shaking vehemence . 
" You pose as something you never were ! 
Trying to win your way into Mister Carlyle 's confidence , just to spy on him for your Yankee masters ! " 
"Now just a minute , young lady ! " 
His face reddened , darkening the welts and bruises , and emphasizing the purple bulge under the right eye . 
" I do n't like being called a spy ! " 
"Call it what you will ! 
There 's a nastier term for it ! " 
She stepped back , slamming the door shut , leaving him fuming as he gripped the white picket fence . 
Mister Carlyle told me ! 
Oh , he did , did he ! 
Jamming the hat on his head , Brock leaped to Rusty 's back , swung him towards the mine . 
He 'd look there first and find out just what in the blazing hell Mister Carlyle had told her ! 
A thin freckled-faced youth sauntered from around the far side of the loading platform as Brock drew Rusty to a rearing halt at the mine . 
The boy 's black hat sat far back on his head ; his thumbs were hooked in a wide cartridge belt . 
The hog leg butt of a long pistol stuck out from a holster that was tied to his skinny thigh . 
" Mister Carlyle around ? " 
Brock asked . 
" What you want 'im fer ? " 
The boy tried to make the age-changing voice sound hard , and it might have sounded ludicrous had it not been for the reckless chill shimmering in cat-yellow eyes . 
" Want to see him , " Brock said . 
" Know where he is ? " 
"Maybe . 
Who are you ? " 
"Neighbour . 
Is Carlyle here ? " 
The boy spat between his teeth — just like O'Shay — and pressed his thumbs down on the pistol belt — just like Clanton . 
He tried to squint his eyes like Beeman when he said , " Do n't see 'im , do yuh ? " 
Brock looked the boy over from shabby boots to over-sized hat . 
" What are you trying to do , sonny ? 
Play like you 're a man ? " 
A freckled hand flashed to the hog leg butt . 
The gawky frame tensed . 
Brock said , " Better be careful who you play with , sonny . " 
He swung Rusty around and toed him into a run without seeing the black-haired man waiting motionlessly behind the opposite side of the platform . 
Gimpy Beckett limped up to the youth as Brock disappeared down the grade . 
" See him before ? " he growled . 
The boy shook his head . 
" I shoulda give it to him ! " 
Gimpy glared at the boy . 
" Listen , Kid . 
Just 'cause you shot one man , do n't feel like you can shoot 'em all ! " 
"You do n't need to tell me . " 
"I am tellin' you ! 
Get snotty with me , youngster , and I 'll take back that hog leg and warm your skinny butts with it . 
Carlyle told me to learn you , and by God I will ! " 
He turned away and limped to the shade of the mine office . 
Arkie was standing next to the saloon 's hitching rail , minding the red-wheeled chaise , when Brock rode up . 
The black stallion reared in the shafts as Rusty drew close , and Arkie had to hang on with both hands . 
" Heck all ! " 
Arkie scolded Brock over his shoulder , " You know better'n to bring a horse that close to Jet ! 
Mister Carlyle sure give it to yuh , he finds out ! " 
From the saddle , Brock said , " You just tell me where Carlyle is and I 'll see that he finds out . " 
Arkie gaped up at him . 
" You talkin' 'bout Mister Carlyle ? " 
"Where is he ? " 
Brock nodded towards the saloon . 
" In there ? " 
Stunned , Arkie gasped , " You mean you gon na tell Mister Carlyle ? " 
Dismounting , Brock slip-knotted the reins around the end post of the hitch rail . 
" Keep that black devil away from Rusty or you 'll have a sick horse on your hands , " he warned , and leaped to the wooden sidewalk . 
About to push open the swinging doors , he stopped as a woman touched his arm . 
A gaunt little creature , her pinched face seemed more eyes than anything else . 
A faded blue sun-bonnet hid most of the face and all of her hair , and she clutched a thin grey shawl as though the sun 's rays were streaks of penetrating sleet . 
Her long full skirt , a worn drab plaid , swept the boardwalk in uneven folds . 
" I must see you , Mister Taylor , " she whispered , leaning close . 
" Just for a minute . 
Please . " 
Brock glanced impatiently inside the saloon . 
" Yes , ma'am ? " 
"Over here . " 
She led him to the second building past the saloon . 
" Look , ma'am . " 
He tried to sound patient . 
" I have business to attend to . 
I 'll be glad to listen if — " 
" You do n't remember me Mister Taylor ? " 
The interruption caught him by surprise . 
Remember this frail little old woman ? 
He 'd never seen her before in his life . 
But there was none . 
Only silence . 
I staggered to my feet , went over to the packing-cases , rummaged among them . 
They had been held together , bound , with galvanized wire . 
I began to twist and turn , feeling the wire heat up between my fingers , begin to burn my flesh , but I ignored it and kept twisting until a piece of about six inches in length came free . 
I limped back to the door , knelt again . 
The lock was massive but ancient and simple . 
There was no key in it . 
I could look straight through into the dimming light in the corridor . 
I probed with the wire , got to the tumbler and lifted . 
But the wire bent . 
I cursed , pulled it clear , straightened it , tried again , but again it bent . 
" Here , " Seona 's voice from behind me . 
She had a nail in her hand , a long nail , stronger than the wire . 
I snatched it from her , probed again , lifted and this time the tumbler rose a little way before it slipped back into place . 
I paused , wiped sweat from my brow and listened at the door . 
If the guard was still outside he must have heard the attempts at picking the lock . 
But all was still . 
With trembling fingers I thrust with the nail , the tumbler rose the whole way and the lock snapped open . 
My nerves were jangling . 
I stood for a second with my back against the door , breathing heavily , then I turned and slowly , stealthily I eased it open . 
It creaked . 
My heart missed a beat . 
I waited . 
Still no sound from outside . 
I opened the door wide . 
Carefully I looked out into the passageway . 
The chair was empty , cigarette-ends littered the floor beside it and in the gloomy light of evening I could look straight along to the hallway . 
It , too , was empty . 
I grasped Seona 's arm , pulled her with me as I went silently along the passage keeping close to the wall . 
My groin was paining : it was swollen but somehow it did n't seem so bad now . 
We came to the hallway . 
Still the silence , an eerie silence . 
I did n't know what to make of it . 
" Stay here , " I said to the girl , and then on my toes I went over to the main door , looked out into the courtyard . 
It was empty . 
The truck had gone . 
I beckoned . 
Seona came to join me . 
My lips were against her ear , her hair brushing my face . 
" You know the road to the coast . 
You know of Farrel . 
Ask for him . 
Go to him or De Sotto . " 
Her face turned . 
I looked into her eyes . 
" And you ? " 
"I will follow , " , I said hastily . 
" I have to find out if he is still here . 
I will not be far behind you . " 
"No , " she said , her voice little more than a whisper . 
" We have come this far together . 
I will not leave you now . 
You may need my help . 
Besides , the little man has said that Jeronimo 's men are between us and the coast . " 
"Do as you 're told . " 
My voice was harsh , impatient . 
" No . 
We go together . " 
There was n't time to argue . 
I took her by the hand , went quickly over to the stairs , began to climb , placing my feet carefully on each step , keeping close in the deep shadow of the balustrade and at the top of the stairs I stopped , bent double and looked each way along the length of the landing , along the dim empty silence of it . 
On to the landing then , padding softly , making for the far end . 
Double doors stood open . 
I looked inside to a bare empty room . 
The evening breeze blew gently in through windows from which most of the glazing had gone . 
On to the next room . 
The doors were shut . 
Slowly I opened them a fraction , looked in . 
It showed signs of recent occupation . 
Papers scattered over the floor . 
Cigarette-ends too . 
A couple of what seemed to be pin-up pictures stuck to one wall . 
Then on to the next room , and the next , working my way along , seeing signs of some of them having been in use until at last I came to the room where I had met Jeronimo . 
I was more careful here . 
I used the keyhole first . 
But it too was deserted , most of the furniture covered by dust sheets , and I stood for a moment or so , frowning , puzzled , not knowing what to make of it . 
Next to it was a bedroom , fully furnished , a great canopied bed occupying most of it . 
The bed was still made up . 
I left it , went on and two doors farther on , and almost at the end of a landing , I turned a handle , went in to a horrible sickening stench . 
I staggered back . 
Behind me Seona retreated hurriedly . 
I went forward again into darkness . 
I still had the matches . 
I struck one and in the light from the tiny flame I saw shuttered windows , saw a low truckle-bed , a small table beside it , and on the bed a form , the form of someone covered by a blanket . 
On the table stood a small oil lamp . 
I held my breath , went over to it , raised the glass , lighted it and the room filled with a warm mellow light . 
Gingerly I raised the edge of the blanket . 
A dead face looked up at me , the eyes closed , dark-ringed , the face waxen and showing still the lines of pain and suffering . 
Hurriedly I ripped away the blanket from the body . 
It was naked , the body of a man , well built and young : one arm was still bandaged , an arm which was swollen to enormous proportions and stinking , gangrenous . 
His other arm lay across his chest , unnaturally , as if placed there deliberately , for a purpose . 
I bent closer , saw the pinprick of the hole made by a hypodermic syringe . 
Someone had been merciful . 
I threw the blanket back on him . 
His clothing lay piled over a chair , trousers , shoes , socks , underclothing , a shirt , but no jacket . 
I picked up the shirt . 
The right sleeve had been ripped open . 
It was heavily bloodstained . 
The right sleeve . 
I went cold . 
It had been that same sleeve of Baker 's raincoat which had been torn , ripped open . 
But this was n't Baker . 
Baker was on the short side , past middle age and sandy-haired , balding . 
The room seemed to whirl around me . 
I could n't think . 
This was beyond me . 
I went back to the clothing , rummaged through the pockets of the trousers . 
They held nothing . 
I looked around for the jacket . 
There was no sign of it . 
I flung the clothing back on to the chair and as I did so I noticed the shoulder holster . 
It hung by the side of the chair , partly concealed from me . 
I picked it up , drew out the automatic . 
A P.38 . 
A full clip in the butt , a spare clip attached to the holster . 
Quickly I slipped off my jacket , hung the holster from my shoulder and shrugged into the jacket again . 
Then I went over to the lamp , bent to blow it out . 
The sooner I made contact now with Farrel the better . 
From behind me in the doorway I heard the slither of footsteps . 
I had forgotten Seona . 
I turned to see what she was doing and I froze . 
Standing in the doorway , her nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell in the room , was the woman Jeronimo had called Elsa . 
Behind her , peering round her , were Ginetti and one of the boys , surprise on their faces , and in her hand pointing straight at me was a long-barrelled Luger. 9 
" TAKE your hand away from the lamp . " 
Her voice was high and thin and sharp . 
She stayed in the doorway , perhaps because of the stench from the body , perhaps because even though she had the gun in her hand she felt safer with distance between us . 
Ginetti was by her side and slightly behind her , her shoulder blocking him from the room while the boy peered in between them . 
Slowly I straightened , let my hands drop away from the lamp . 
" Come away from it . " 
I moved a couple of steps nearer her . 
" That 's enough . " 
I stopped , tense , every muscle in my body taut , my mind reeling , trying to find a way to cope with the situation . 
" How did you get out ? " 
I did n't answer . 
My eyes were fixed on the pistol she held , on the finger which was crooked around the trigger and which showed white with the pressure she was exerting . 
I was close , very close to death . 
" How did you get out ? " 
Still I was silent . 
Her voice had risen still higher . 
She was nervous , uncertain , and I gauged the distance between us judging whether I could get to her before she could pull the trigger . 
But eight feet or more separated us : and Ginetti too had his pistol in his hand , as always held loosely by his side but nevertheless ready for action . 
Then the boy : it was obvious that he too would be armed . 
" Answer me . " 
The voice was a danger signal , a sign of nerves reaching a pitch when anything could happen . 
" Through the door , " I mumbled , my mouth dry . 
" How else ? " 
She seemed to relax a little , but only a little . 
" And the girl ? " 
"Gone , " I said . 
" Christ ! " 
Ginetti 's voice broke in . 
He looked frightened . 
" Jeronimo 's got to be told . 
And now . 
Do n't play with him , Contessa . 
Shoot him . 
Get him out of the way . " 
Nervously she licked her lips . 
" Yes , " she said , and her voice was uncertain . 
But all the same she set herself more firmly on her feet and the barrel of the pistol quivered as an extra pressure was put on the trigger . 
And inside me my nerves seemed to shiver , to jar . 
Now . 
It was coming now . 
And I gathered myself to leap at her , to try and get the pistol before it went off . 
But nothing happened . 
It is no easy matter to kill in cold blood if you have n't the mentality for that sort of thing . 
Very few women have . 
Vicious though she looked the Contessa was no exception . 
" Get out of my way . " 
Ginetti 's voice had risen . 
He seemed to be panicking a little , to be losing control . 
" Move . 
Let me do it . " 
He edged forward , began to shoulder her aside , to get freedom for the arm and the hand which held the pistol . 
The boy had closed in upon the two in front of him so that they were now grouped tightly together in the doorway . 
And then my heart lurched . 
A shadowy figure appeared behind them , a figure who could only be Seona , who moved up to them , into them . 
She must have jumped at them , her arms outstretched , and she caught the Contessa full in the back , sending her staggering in at me and barging Ginetti violently to one side as she did so . 
And at the same time I leaped to one side , the Luger going off almost in my face , the bullet missing me by inches as I swayed back at her and chopped in a blow with the edge of my palm alongside her jaw . 
Her head snapped violently around and sideways , her eyes rolled to show the whites as she slumped to the ground . 
And then Ginetti . 
He had n't a chance . 
He was down on one knee and I was on to him before he had time to do anything . 
Again that chopping blow , a blow that could kill if aimed at the right spot , but this time on the wrist of the hand which held his pistol , and hard , really hard . 
I heard his gasp of pain , heard too the clatter of the gun hitting the floor as I brought my knee up violently into his face to send him flying backwards on to the landing . 
I staggered with the effort , then gathered myself ready to deal with the boy . 
He had slipped back . 
He had a shotgun , the shortened barrels swinging as he wrestled with Seona : a Seona whose teeth showed in a tigerish fury as she pushed and pulled , the knuckles of her hands white as she gripped on those barrels , fighting to keep them away from me . 
" My dear Frank . 
When you hear this , I shall be dead . 
It is now ten o'clock and I am quite alone in the laboratory . 
I have fastened the door and am now seated before the recorder . 
Frank , I have invented a weapon which I call Liquid Glass . 
The atom bomb causes death by fire . 
My invention causes death by freezing . 
Liquid Glass is in the form of small crystals . 
Five of these crystals enclosed within a glass cylinder are sufficient , when dropped from a plane , to reduce the land beneath to a thick crust of ice . 
All people caught within the belt are frozen to death instantly . 
Therefore , should a free nation be threatened by another , they can meet the menace of their enemy 's atomic fire with the introduction of a new Ice Age . 
I have placed my formula in a secret cache for greater safety , for I fear , Frank — I very much fear — that I am shadowed and that some person may have more than a faint inkling as to what I have brought into being . 
Have you ever heard talk concerning three men who are known as the Terrible Three , who have managed so far to elude capture . 
Their field of operation is world wide , but there is a rumour that they are at present in the States . 
These three men have the reputation of possessing superb nerve and cunning . 
I know many inside stories of the happenings under cover within Europe . 
The merest glimpse of a man 's face is sufficient warning to the initiated , but I have no proof . 
Therefore be on your guard . 
" Now for your instructions . 
" Snatch a moment when the house is unoccupied — but do n't send the servants out too obviously — then go upstairs to the attic . 
In the second room you will find a line of pictures resting against the wall . 
Choose Psyche and Pan , and take off the back . 
Between this outer covering you will see a sealed packet . 
The words "Liquid Glass " are written upon the envelope . 
Take it to Professor Slade , " Carmel , " Balfour Crescent , New York . 
Once it is in his possession your task is completed . 
But whilst this operation is in progress I beg you to use the utmost discretion . 
Trust no one ; neither a friend nor a beloved one . 
Remember — you will be holding dynamite . 
" There remains nothing more for me to say , I think . 
" Thank you , Frank . 
I know you will do it ... well . " 
The tape ran on soundlessly until Frank , breaking the spell , pressed the fast-wind switch . 
Now he understood the Professor 's agony of indecision . 
This was , indeed , the answer to the atomic bomb , but what a fearful answer . 
He felt the mantle of responsibility descending upon his own shoulders . 
Lifting off the tape , he hesitated over what he should do with it . 
He could of course remove the message , but he naturally preferred to carry it with the sealed packet to Slade . 
In the meanwhile where could he keep the tape ? 
He dared not leave it about , so he decided to carry it perpetually around with him . 
This point settled , he reflected he wanted to take a shower . 
When he 'd tied the belt of his bathrobe he slipped the tape into the pocket . 
Within the shower compartment his brain ran riot , in company with the falling jets of water . 
He ran his fingers through his hair while he figured . 
" I only need the right opportunity to snatch the packet , then carry it to New York and my part is over . " 
When he returned to his room he found he was again looking around for the unexpected . 
" It 's too darned easy to let your imagination take the reins , " he admonished himself . 
He did not really believe Zinnerman 's secret was known . 
He did n't credit the Professor 's notion that he 'd been trailed . 
" No — just a sick man weaving fantasies , and you 'd better watch out for yourself , " he warned , " or you will be starting on the same road , too . " 
He turned the key softly in the lock for the first time since he 'd slept in this house . 
Half an hour later Frank lay on his bed in the inner room . 
He was smoking and flicking over the pages of a book . 
The tape now reposed beneath his pillow . 
It seemed to him that the night was endless . 
Had he the least hope that he 'd sleep ? 
At length he laid aside his cigarette end in a silver tray and turned out the light . 
In retrospect he saw again Zinnerman 's face close to his , and felt the Professor 's hands gripping his shoulders . 
He relived the scene in the laboratory , then he drifted into sleep . 
What was that ! 
Frank sat up and listened . 
He heard a sharp click-click . 
He switched on the table lamp , swung his feet to the floor and reached for his robe . 
" Is anyone there ? " he called . 
In the next room he groped for the light button and flooded the apartment with illumination . 
He had to wait a minute to adjust his own vision . 
Then going over to the door he released it . 
The passage was empty . 
" Is someone there ? " he queried . 
No one replied . 
No sound disturbed the heavy silence which now ruled the house . 
He closed his door . 
His watch registered two o'clock . 
He extinguished the lamp and pulled back the heavy drapes from the window . 
The dark sky was lit by a silver moon boat . 
The trees were scarcely discernible ; a serene autumnal scene . 
He wandered back into his bedroom . 
Here , he shook out a Stuyvesant from the packet on the small table and used his lighter . 
Seated on the side of the bed he commenced to evolve plans for the morrow . 
CHAPTER TWO FRENZIED WEB 
THE NEW DAY proved a whirlpool of activity . 
Frank had to cope with dozens of letters , attend to callers , and take each phone call which occurred about every fifteen minutes . 
At mid-day Benn entered Frank 's study carrying a tray . 
Frank wanted only a sandwich and a glass of milk for luncheon , and as the butler deposited the tray upon the desk he asked if he might slip out for half an hour . 
" Sure , " Frank agreed absently . 
Then as the man departed realisation dawned . 
With Benn removed , the house would be virtually empty . 
The other two servants had gone out a while since . 
Johnson was in the laboratory with sufficient work to occupy him for an hour at least . 
He 'd been very late the previous night and was trying desperately to make up the time he 'd lost . 
He had hinted to Frank that he 'd had a lot of fun and consumed quite a number of highballs . 
Possibly he 'd been responsible for the noise that had woken him , Frank had decided ; and now within a short span of time he would have his chance within his grasp . 
He waited until he heard the front door slam ; made a quick check to ascertain that the house really was untenanted , then he swiftly mounted the stairs which led to the next storey . 
He opened a door . 
The first room looked rather eerie in the faint light filtering in from the lowered shades . 
Frank crossed to the second door and turned the handle . 
There were several pieces of furniture stored in here . 
Resting against the opposite wall were a row of pictures , gilded frames turned towards the wall . 
He examined each in turn , then as the fifth picture passed through his hands he knew with quickening pulses that this was the one he sought . 
A lovely study of the kneeling Psyche imploring the aid of Pan who , in his genial way , was apparently giving advice to the stricken girl who had lost her lover through her own imprudence and mistrust . 
Frank produced his penknife and gently attacked the back of the picture . 
He was aware that the task must be delicately done . 
He owed that to Zinnerman . 
At length it was finished and the square piece of plywood fell away . 
There , resting against the canvas was a small sealed packet , measuring not more than six inches by four . 
He lifted it up and read " Liquid Glass " inscribed in the Professor 's neat script . 
He slipped the package into his pocket , and then commenced the work of restoring the picture in as perfect a condition as before . 
When he was at last satisfied he came away and descended the staircase . 
He strode swiftly into his room — and stopped — eyes riveted upon his black jacket lying across a chair . 
Within the right hand pocket reposed the tape . 
How could he have been so careless as to leave it here ? 
But it was all right , he reflected the next instant . 
The dwelling was deserted . 
Nevertheless his conscience troubled him as he slid his hand into the pocket to recover it . 
The tape was not there . 
He explored the left side pocket , and again drew blank . 
Where was it ? 
He was certain beyond a shadow of doubt that he placed it there this morning . 
His gaze flashed around . 
There was a tape on the recorder which he 'd left bare last night . 
He bounded over to the machine . 
The tape was a quarter wound off . 
He switched on , fast-wound , and pressed the playback button . 
With an indescribable shock he heard Zinnerman 's voice saying the first words of his message . 
Frank stopped the machine and stood taut . 
Someone had been in this room during his absence . 
For a moment he could not move as realisation flooded his brain , then he fled into the corridor . 
" Who is there ? " he shouted . 
His voice echoed — and there was no reply . 
He made a swift search of the first floor rooms and rushed down the stairs to explore the rest . 
He found no one . 
He ran across the lawn to the laboratory and threw the door wide . 
Johnson , who seemed to be terribly busy , glanced up at him in an apparently startled fashion . 
" Hello , Frank , " he greeted . 
" Have you come to give me a hand ? 
That sure would be acceptable . " 
Frank ignored this . 
" Did you come into the house just now ? " he demanded abruptly . 
Johnson ruffled up his hair . 
" Who , me ? " he exclaimed . 
" Good God , no . 
I 've far too much to do , but if you were thinking of brewing coffee , I 'd love some . 
Better make it black though . 
I went out on the town last night . " 
Frank stared at him , trying to read within Johnson 's eyes whether he was speaking the truth or not . 
Then Frank withdrew , closing the door after him . 
He went swiftly back up to his room and removing the tape , slid it into his pocket . 
He thought wretchedly , " How much harm have I caused already ? " 
It was abundantly clear to him than an intruder had been here , but just how far that person had advanced in knowledge was open to speculation . 
He might only have had time to hear a part of the tape , or — he was now as wise as Frank was . 
How could he tell ? 
There just was n't time to waste in self-reproach for this criminal carelessness on his part . 
There was only one thing to do — think fast , and decide just how the situation should be remedied . 
He moved over to the window and looked down upon the garden . 
Johnson , of course , was the most probable candidate for the unknown intruder . 
If only there was some way of checking up on him . 
The tall trees stood sentinel below dressed in their garlands of russet leaves . 
Autumn . 
The loveliest season of the year . 
A figure was crossing the stone courtyard below . 
Benn , returning from his errand no doubt . 
Frank turned away . 
Then a new line of thought arrested him . 
Could this have been the work of a stranger ? 
A person Frank had never seen ? 
A creature well adapted in the art of a quiet unnoticed entry and a swift melting away afterwards when the task had been completed ? 
A saboteur perhaps ? 
One of the Terrible Three ? 
But let him deal with facts known . 
However much his enemy had learned there was one point he could n't be aware of , namely that Frank had already secured the packet . 
Feeling rather diminished by being reduced to such an obvious manoeuvre , Sam swung abruptly round a corner , vaulted , as silently as he could , over a low garden wall , and crouched in the prickly refuge of a bush . 
The following footsteps panicked . 
They were almost running . 
Evidently the trailer was a novice . 
Then Sam saw that the footsteps belonged to the man with a straggly beard , the one who had claimed Han 's attention at the party . 
Suddenly Sam felt reckless . 
He was n't going to wait for danger written in the stars . 
He was going to write his own autobiography . 
Without taking any further precautions , Sam followed the follower . 
The man lost his nerve , and turned to face Sam . 
" Well ? " 
Sam demanded . 
The straggly beard trembled . 
" I was trying to catch up with you , sir . " 
"What a coincidence ! for it seems , " Sam pointed out , " that I have caught up with you . " 
But the other was recovering his composure . 
" I was waiting , " he explained , " till we passed a bar . 
Then I was going to ask you to have a drink with me . 
I asked Han to tell me about you ... " 
"We 'll talk here , " Sam answered , " Mr ... er ... ? " 
"Singh , " said the bearded man as if he were conferring a favour . 
" My name is Singh , but I wanted to talk to you about Foster . " 
"So many names ! " said Sam . 
" Why should you want to talk to me about Foster ? 
It happened before I came to this country . " 
Singh said , " I think there is going to be a storm . " 
The night , certainly , seemed to be loaded with thunder ; and Sam wondered how intolerable the other 's social manners could get . 
Were they now going to talk about the weather ? 
Sam was conscious of his muscles absorbing the secrets of flexion . 
There was a tremendous synaptic gathering inside him . 
But would it be worth pulling such a silly little beard ? 
" I 'm glad you know about Foster , " Singh said . 
But one would need a genius for letting the world rip by not to know about Foster . 
Newspapers had bellowed headlines about the settler who 'd complained that his native gardener was getting too interested in his wife , and who 'd slugged the man so hard that he 'd pushed him into eternity . 
Foster had always been hitting his native servants , but with the gardener he had gone too far . 
" It 's only right that Foster should hang , " Singh said curtly . 
" Yet this New Government may not like to start what they call a New Era with the execution of a white man . 
They may feel that it will bias their relations with other Western Powers . 
So I would like you to sign our petition . 
As a visitor from The States , your signature would mean so much ... " 
But the man had not even troubled to ask Sam whether he believed in capital punishment , whether he thought that vengeance was a dish best eaten cold ! 
Of course it was not right that the black men who killed whites should always be punished , while the white men who killed blacks should go free . 
If there was a law , it should be impartial . 
But was capital punishment part of any law that could be justified ? 
Singh would say , Sam was sure , that Sam was standing with the white men when he waved away the petition . 
But surely he was doing more than that ? 
For Sam ought to be prejudiced . 
Sam was as black as night . 
That was why his mother , not knowing his father , had called him Sam Dark . 
" My name 's trash , " she 'd said , " but we 'll give you a nice one , so that you can be proud of yourself . " 
Sam said , " Mr. Singh , I 'm going to return to my hotel . 
In the circumstances , perhaps you 'd give me ten minutes ' start . 
I do not wish to walk with you , or have you on my heels . " 
After that , there was no tail of footsteps just out of synchrony ; and when Sam passed the first small bar that was open , he took his own solitary footsteps into it . 
The place was utterly undistinguished , but Sam wanted to drink away the taste of Mary Parker and Mr. Singh with his wish to see Foster strung up from the rafters . 
And after he had drunk away the rancid taste , Sam wanted to think of Han . 
He did not know how long he spent drinking , and his thoughts reached no conclusions . 
He left the bar finally because the proprietor begged him to go . 
THERE was no sign of the night porter or of any of the night staff at the hotel . 
Yet Sam wanted one last cool glass before going to his room and the whirling fans . 
After all , Grandad 's Soda Pop was paying enough to justify Sam throwing a little weight around . 
Sam , the consultant on market research in relation to coloured citizens in America , who 'd been yanked out of the advertising department and sent off as ambassadorial salesman to the New State . 
Sam , the Soda Pop salesman , who kept his finger jammed on the bell ; but the eerie thing was that he felt that nobody would come , that somehow the luxury hotel was adrift and floating away without a crew into the stifling night . 
He looked for another bell , in case the one he had been ringing was at fault . 
When he found it , he jabbed it with a viciousness that surprised him . 
He might have saved his finger ; but obstinacy made him sit himself down in a padded chair . 
Surely sooner or later some servant would have to pass through the foyer ? 
But it was a long term policy , and Sam began to weary . 
He realised that he might acquire a skull cap of dust before anything happened . 
He decided that the hotel had won the round , and he got up and moved over to the lifts . 
But when Sam flipped on the light inside his room , he was no longer alone : there was someone on his bed , a woman who had made herself at home and had gone to sleep ! 
It was Mary Parker , the bogus fortune teller who "read " the vibrations accumulated on things people had carried around them , the impetus of fate , psychometry . 
Mary was n't handsome when she was awake , and asleep she looked ghastly . 
Then Sam realised that Mary was dead . 
He saw the penknife . 
His penknife . 
It was plunged into the old woman 's heart . 
Sam staggered into his private bathroom and passed a wet sponge over his face . 
Then he unhooked the shaving mirror and took it back to the bedroom . 
He put the mirror over Mary Parker 's mouth . 
Mary was dead all right . 
There was n't much blood , but Sam knew that if he pulled out the knife there 'd be plenty . 
Ought he to pull out the knife ? 
It would n't help the witch now , and a lot of blood would be awkward if ... 
If what ? 
If he took the body down to the foyer and left it in a chair in that mausoleum . 
A blood trail would be a confession . 
He could recover his knife in the foyer , and let the corpse bleed comfortably into the cushions ... 
Yes , Sam 's one obsessive idea was — to get rid of the body . 
What had happened and how it had happened , these were hideous questions which would have to wait . 
Sam would have liked to have complained to the management ! 
What damned right had they to give permission to a caller to wait for a guest in his room ? 
Such slipshod security was bound to lead to trouble . 
Even if Mary had given a wink meaning " Sam 's expecting me " , they ought n't to have fallen for that flattering assumption of sophistication . 
This was supposed to be a first-class hotel in the New State , and not a brothel under the Old Regime . 
Jesus ! ... if Mary 's body was found in Sam 's room with Sam 's knife pinning it down to the dimension of eternity ... 
Although Sam wanted to concentrate on getting the body out of the room , he could n't control his thoughts . 
But he tried to force himself to number off the tasks in hand : 1 ) Drag the corpse to the door , 2 ) Look out to see if the coast was clear , 3 ) Get to the lift before the night porter took to operating the damned thing again , 4 ) Get back to the bedroom and change clothes in case of bloodstains , 5 ) Think up a good bluff if some minion came up with a story about showing Mary Parker up to Sam 's room . 
But to perdition with trying to think straight . 
What was needed was a little crooked action . 
Sam forced himself back to the bedside , and put out his arms to grab the corpse under the arm pits ... 
" Dear me , Mr. Dark , I would have thought that any further violence was quite unnecessary ... " 
Sam spun round . 
A small man , who was pushing out his lips as if he wanted to kiss or be kissed , had come silently into the room . 
" Oh dear , " he said , " I 'm the hotel detective . " 
Sam goggled at him . 
" Where the devil have you been ? " he said bitterly . 
" Why ca n't you prevent this sort of thing happening ? " 
"Do you think I could have done that , Mr. Dark ? 
I ca n't be everywhere at once , you know . 
We 've had trouble with an old lady who lost a valuable brooch . 
I 've been interviewing all the staff . 
The old lady insisted on it . 
Of course in the end we discovered that she 'd used the brooch for pinning a cheque to her laundry list . 
Old ladies are capable of anything . 
You 'd never credit what they 'll do without a second thought . 
" They stick a hat pin into a tiresome dog or leave a valuable brooch in a laundry list , and then forget all about it . 
Whereas you and I , we 'd have a twinge of conscience , would n't we ? or else we 'd be a bloody sight more careful . " 
The little man tried to suck in his lips , but there was n't much he could do about it . 
" My name is Ralph Chand , " he said , " and you ought to be pleased to see me . 
Perhaps I 've prevented you from doing something foolish . 
We do get flustered , do n't we , in a crisis ? " 
Sam was speechless . 
Do hotel detectives talk like nursery governesses ? 
We must eat up all our bread and butter before we have any cake , must n't we ? 
Then Sam tensed . 
Perhaps this imbecile was the murderer who 'd come back to gloat and perhaps to do some more damage ? 
Chand said conversationally , " Stabbed , is n't she ? 
But if you prefer it , she could be poisoned or strangled . 
We must suit your personality . 
But you are a man who carries a knife , are n't you ? " 
Sam felt his eyes swelling like bubbles . 
" Will you say that again ? " he demanded faintly . 
" Perhaps , Mr. Dark , " Chand said brusquely , " you are finding it hard to believe in me ? 
Do you think I ought to be holding a gun in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other ? 
Here is my warrant . 
You will verify , I hope , that it is perfectly in order . " 
It looked real 
" And now , " said the hotel detective , " I will have to ask you to accompany me . " 
Sam stepped back . 
" Oh no , " he retorted , " I 'll wait here till the real police take charge . 
I do n't want to be locked in the kitchen and told I 've got to wash dishes for the rest of my life . " 
The detective succeeded in getting his lower lip under his upper teeth , and then he released it again . 
It sprang back to the bulge as if to attack . 
" Sir , " Mr. Chand said firmly , " what you want is a lawyer . 
After this unfortunate incident , he 'll be waiting for us . 
The best lawyer in town , Mr. Dark ; and he 's our acting President while Bassanto is in Nyamba . 
I could not take you to a higher authority . " 
Sam lifted the telephone , and to his amazement it was answered almost immediately . 
Anyone would think the hotel was running to orderly schedule . 
Sam said , " Give me police headquarters . " 
The girl on the switchboard did not seem to be surprised . 
I drank off the Scotch . 
" We 'd better find out , " I said . 
" Another one , Sergeant ? " 
He grinned . 
" May as well make a night of it , sir , do n't you think ? " 
We made it quite a session . 
In the next two hours I gathered more information about Sergeant Ellison than I had in all the time I 'd known him . 
The bar at the Bloomsbury was a quiet sort of place , and we drank just about enough to loosen our tongues . 
That was all to the good because , apart from a load of irrelevant data , I picked up an odd fact about him that , though it seemed unimportant , came in very handy later on . 
I tried to draw him out on Malaya and the rubber plantations , and after a time he weighed in with some of the problems of Indian labour . 
Strikes , it appeared , had always been blowing up on the flimsiest pretext , and he went on to talk about one that had threatened to paralyse production just before the war . 
" That , " he remarked , " was when I learnt to drive an engine . " 
"You mean a railway engine ? " 
"A small one . " 
He grinned . 
" Much smaller than anything you 'll see down at Ravi , but the cab lay-out 's roughly the same . 
We had a branch line connecting the plantation with the main Singapore track . 
When the strike came we had to keep the wagons on the move , and there was only one way to do it . " 
I asked him half-jokingly whether he thought he could drive the Calcutta-Peshawar express . 
" If I had to drive it out of hell into heaven , " he said , " I 'd at least have a damn good try . " 
We were neither of us talking in deadly earnest , and I 'd no idea then that I 'd ever need to ask him to drive a locomotive . 
Yet when the time came that I needed a driver and seconds were precious , the little that I 'd learnt about him that evening snapped into mind with a sweetness that made all the difference . 
Looking back , I learnt quite a lot that was useful in the course of that couple of hours at the Bloomsbury . 
It was close on eleven o'clock when I left , and as I turned the jeep towards the gates , another car came blaring up the road from the station . 
It was an American make , half the size of a tank and unmistakably belonged to Sarwate . 
I 'd seen it too often at Dalgoorie to have any doubts about that . 
I caught sight of his face , all flesh , peering through the windscreen , and beside him a woman in a sari . 
I could n't see her features . 
She was turned away from me , but she seemed to be young . 
It must have been the Scotch , but right at that moment I felt very much alone , a world away from Fay . 
I muttered an entreaty that the next three nights at least would be quiet ; then , swinging the jeep on to the tarmac , I followed Sarwate up the hill . 
22 . 
A LUSCIOUS LITTLE WINDFALL 
I slept soundly from midnight to six in the morning , and woke feeling more thoroughly rested than I had for ten days . 
There 'd been no hornet-buzz from the bazar and no jangling telephone-bells in the small hours . 
Some distant Hindu deity , possibly Vishnu the Preserver in one of his nine incarnations , had lent an ear to the prayer of an unbeliever and laid a peaceful hand on Kulachi . 
That was one thing to be thankful for at any rate , and to me there was another that was equally if not more important . 
This was Tuesday . 
It was August the eleventh , and Fay was arriving from Delhi . 
I slipped on a pair of sandals , snatched myself a quick , cool shower and a dollop of breakfast , and ran the jeep down to Area Headquarters with the airy feeling that in spite of the heat I was going to remember this day as a pleasanter landmark of monsoon 1942 . 
Betty had only just arrived , but she 'd called at the Signals Section on the way and picked up what messages there were . 
One of them was sealed in an envelope and labelled TOP SECRET — obviously from G.H.Q. — and I slit the flap and pulled out the folded slip of paper with all kinds of misgivings . 
Not that I was desperately worried about Fay . 
I 'd spoken to her on the phone less than twenty-four hours before , and she had n't seemed in any way upset ; but , from my own narrow shave outside the Kutcherry , I knew just how little was needed to spark off an outbreak of violence , how swiftly a peaceful street could become as dangerous as a valley in the path of a crumbling dam . 
The mere mention of Delhi , on this of all days , was calculated to set all my nerve-ends tingling ; and with the Press and radio clamped into virtual silence on the subject , there were only two sources of news : rumour , which was wild and unreliable and reports from G.H.Q. , which were reliable as far as they went , but which , I suspected , never told more than a quarter of the truth . 
Still , casting an eye down the message , I did n't see anything to cause immediate concern . 
The only mention of Delhi was in the context of student demonstrations , but all hell , it seemed , had been let loose in Bombay . 
A railway station had been raided , a Government grain-shop looted and burnt , telegraph wires cut and stones thrown at trains . 
The police and the military had had to intervene and there 'd been a number of casualties , some of them fatal . 
There 'd also been some firing in Lucknow and Poona , and more trouble in Ahmedabad ; but it was even more disturbing to find no reference at all to what had happened at Kulachi . 
At least half a dozen places were detailed in connection with what were called " minor disturbances " , but I could n't spot Kulachi anywhere among them . 
That made me think , not once but three times . 
I knew the Brig had sent a wire up to District , and both Rob and Scattergood must have made their own individual reports , and yet what I 'd seen down in the Sadar Bazar was n't even classed as a " minor disturbance " . 
I looked down my nose at the message , and wondered what the hell sort of trouble G.H.Q. meant when they talked about " a student demonstration " . 
Then I realized abruptly that it was n't worth the effort . 
Even if they meant what Rob described as " wilful bloody murder " , there was nothing I could do to prevent it . 
Delhi was a hundred and fifty miles across the Ganges plain , and that was a damned sight too far . 
In six hours Fay would be sitting in a train , and until it was time to wheel the jeep down to Jagapur to meet her , the best thing I could do was to forget the whole business completely . 
I floated the message-form to Betty and told her to file it . 
" And give the D.S.P. a tinkle , " I added . 
" See if he 'll be down at the Kutcherry in half an hour 's time . 
I want to have a word with him about a bungalow at Ravi . " 
She reached for the phone , but before she could so much as lift the receiver the bell began to ring . 
" Damn , " I said . 
" Find out who it is . " 
She found out . 
It was Rob , and I took the phone from her . 
" I was just going to toddle down and see you , " I told him . 
" I 've a small twist of dope about our friend from Asifabad . " 
I heard him chuckle down the wire . 
" I 've got more than that . 
I 've a packet right here that 'll make your eyes pop . " 
"Oh ? 
What 's in it ? " 
"Another twist of something that 's turned up at last . " 
"That tells me a hell of a lot , does n't it ? " 
"Yes , " he said , " it 's meant to . " 
"D' you want me to guess ? " 
"Not while we 're talking on the blower . 
Just get toddling , old son . " 
I told him I 'd be with him in roughly ten minutes . 
" Make it five , " he urged . 
" This is manna from the skies . 
It 's a luscious little windfall if ever there was one . " 
"What shall I bring then ? 
A spoon or a penknife ? " 
"Neither , " he said . 
" Pack a thinking cap . 
That 's all we 're going to need . " 
I did more than toddle . 
I was down at the Kutcherry in six minutes flat . 
Rob was standing by his desk gazing down at a black metal box on the floor . 
It was the sort of box that anyone could have bought in any of a thousand bazars : a small tin trunk , flat-topped , fitted with a hasp and staple and secured by a padlock . 
There were millions of them in India . 
This one , from the look of it , had seen better days . 
It was scratched and dented , the hasp was broken and some sharp concussion at some time or other had strained at the hinges . 
The paint had long since lost all its gloss , but I could see very faintly the letters " M.F. " lacquered in white on the lid . 
" Some windfall , " I remarked . 
" Do n't kick it , " said Rob . 
" Sit down . 
Have you heard about the bus ? " 
"What bus ? " 
"First one down the hill from Dalgoorie this morning . 
Struck a patch of oil on one of the hairpins and nose-dived over the side of the khud . " 
I was n't surprised . 
The buses on the winding road to the hills were the kind I remembered on country routes in England back in the late nineteen-twenties : rattling affairs , sparingly sprung , with bulbous horns and a single door at the rear . 
They were driven with erratic and reckless fury by a team of Sikhs , and on the odd occasions when necessity had forced me to use them I 'd suffered a multitude of hideous deaths in the course of an hour 's fertile imagination . 
I said as much to Rob , and asked him how far this one had dropped . 
" Five hundred feet , almost sheer , " he replied . 
" Finished up in a stream . 
Little of it left except for the chassis . " 
"Any military personnel aboard ? " 
"No . 
There were only five passengers . 
Six with the driver . 
Devil of a shambles , though . 
Seemed to be bodies here , there and everywhere . " 
"Anyone escape ? " 
"Killed four of them , " he said . 
" Simply had n't a chance . 
But the two on the back seat threw themselves out . 
They 're in the I.M.H. , one with a couple of broken legs . 
The other got away with cuts and a bump on his head like a pigeon 's egg . 
He 's the luckiest beggar still breathing this morning . " 
"Who is he ? " 
I asked . 
" A friend from the hills . 
That 's a bit of his property . " 
Rob pointed to the box . 
" Tossed off the luggage grid the first time the bus turned over . 
Fell in a clump of thorns and lodged there . 
Luckily for us it burst at the seams , and when the sub-inspector from Dalgoorie saw what was in it , he sent down for me . " 
"And you impounded it . " 
"I borrowed it , " said Rob , " and all the other personal belongings I could find scattered on the side of the hill . 
Took them into safe custody till I could discover whose they were .... 
As soon as you 've taken a look at that little lot , I 'm having the hasp riveted back into place and the box delivered to the I.M.H. It 'll be held in store for a certain patient and he wo n't be any the wiser . 
When I picked it up he was flat on a stretcher , out to the wide , and the sub-inspector 's down at his bedside to give him all the flannel he needs as soon as he begins to worry . " 
I turned the box around and stared at the letters stencilled on the lid . 
" But who the devil is he ? " 
I queried . 
" Goanese , " said Rob , handing me a clue . 
" A thin , sallow streak of mixed Dago and Madrassi . 
Waves a stick in front of that lousy set of saxes at the Mayfair . " 
"Fernandes ? " 
"Manuel Fernandes . " 
I knew him , of course . 
He was the boss of Sarwate 's dance band . 
Sam looked away and Willie thought , he 's got you , Sam , you 're afraid . 
You 're not a Socialist now . 
" You see , " Parnell said . 
" It shows the power of a newspaper which has strong beliefs and acts on them and perseveres . " 
He waved a sheaf of letters . 
" Congratulations pouring in . " 
"So what ? " 
Willie said . 
" You 've proved the power of dirty propaganda . 
That 's been done before . " 
Parnell came around the desk and embraced his shoulders . 
" Willie , when will you realize ? 
Every newspaper makes propaganda . 
You know what Beaverbrook told the Royal Commission . 
He owns his newspapers for no other purpose . 
It may be propaganda for the left or right , it may be for the middle way . 
But it 's all propaganda and with good reason . " 
His white hand tightened on Willie 's shoulder . 
" What you 'd have is a sheet which tells the truth , the whole truth and nothing but the truth . 
But what is the truth , Willie ? 
I do n't know . 
I only know what I think is true . 
I act on it and try to show others , like the politician on his platform and the parson in his pulpit . 
You must allow me that , Willie — the freedom of holding an opinion and expressing it with every force at my command . " 
Very plausible , Willie thought , except for one thing . 
You hold the opinion , then make others express it . 
You do n't allow them the freedom which you claim as a right . 
" I know you 're a Socialist , Willie . 
With your background you have to be . 
You 've never got 1926 out of your memory . 
But you must n't take it so hard . 
You should learn to lose more gracefully . " 
Willie looked at the white hand , then at Parnell . 
He kept his gaze steady until the hand fell away . 
Then he said : " It 's not the victory , it 's the means . 
You 've done your bit towards making journalism a shameful thing . " 
He turned slowly and went out . 
Miss Simpson raised a hand to him , slightly and secretively , because he was her favourite . 
As he raised his hand in mild answer , his thoughts said , something happened in there just now . 
We moved another step nearer the inevitable , the show-down . 
Parnell on one side , me on the other , and no compromise in between . 
He went up the stairs to Joe 's room . 
The News Editor was cleaning his pipe ; pushing the white cleaner in one end and waiting for it to come out brown at the other . 
" Have you seen the letters ? " 
Joe said . 
" All the congratulations ? " 
Willie went to the window , looking out at nothing . 
" I could puke . " 
"You do n't want to take it personal , Willie . 
You and me and the rest of us . 
We do what we 're told . 
We do n't make the policy . " 
"That 's no answer . 
No excuse . " 
Joe dropped the cleaner into the waste-basket . 
He replaced the stem in the bowl , twisting it another squeak so that the mouthpiece became comfortable to his teeth . 
He took out his tobacco-pouch and filled the bowl , fingering down a shred which curled over the edge . 
Then he tapped his pockets for matches . 
" It does n't matter , Willie , " he said , finding them . 
" It is n't worth the trouble . " 
Willie did not answer . 
He knew that in this room it was n't worth the trouble ; that nothing mattered except Joe 's do-nothing , say-nothing , be-nothing . 
He knew that if he stayed long enough , here in this room which this man had made , he would do nothing , say nothing . 
He went out to the corridor and along it to his room . 
In the reporters ' room Ritchie 's voice was plain : " On some newspapers there 'd be champagne to celebrate . " 
Through the opened door of another room he saw the sub-editors , crouched over their copy like cold hens on a perch . 
Willie opened the door which said " Mr Whittaker " and slumped into his chair ; biting his thumb , his thoughts boiling with anger and disgust and humiliation . 
He reached for the telephone and half a minute later her voice was there . 
" Helen , will you eat with me , drink with me ... somewhere ... anywhere ? " 
He imagined her surprise . 
She said : " Why , yes , Willie , of course . " 
"We could go out in the country somewhere . 
One of those places where we used to go . 
Before , " he hesitated and added , " before the war . " 
"That would be nice . " 
He knew she was perplexed by the peremptory invitation , by his sudden need of her . 
He said : " I want a drink , a good long drink . 
I 've a bad taste in my mouth . " 
That was the beginning . 
CHAPTER NINETEEN 
No , not the beginning , Willie thought . 
Our beginning is years ago , when I thought my tie was a propeller and you were on the outside , always looking in . 
Since then it 's been there , like a star in the night . 
They lay in the green shade beneath trees , where the river ran away with the sunshine and the leaves went up and down , like the sleeping breath . 
He told her about Slack Lane and his boots and Blonkin ; of the great , wagging head and the yellow teeth and the watchful cruelty . 
But that was not all about Blonkin . 
There was more to him than hooligan boots . 
" During the war , " Willie said , " Blonkin was a prisoner of the Japanese and they thought he knew something , so they filled him with water and held him upside down and hit him with rifle-butts while the water fell out . 
At ten o'clock each day they hit him , and at half past nine each day he was mad with waiting . 
Of course he did n't know what they wanted him to tell , and though he tried to guess what they wanted and told them all of it , his poor mind was n't clever enough to guess what they wanted , so they clubbed him again for trying to deceive them . 
Now Blonkin is back in Slack Lane , living on medical certificates because of what the Japs did to him , and other men say there he goes , always boozing , living free and doing nothing . 
See what happens when there 's a Welfare State . " 
He told her of Creedy ; tall and pale and intense , for ever dependent on his wife who knew about his studs and socks and what he had done with the tickets . 
" I used to hate Creedy , when I was twelve and he forced me to learn more than I believed I could learn . 
I used to lie awake planning how to kill him , how I would kill him when I was a man and big enough . 
All my love was for his wife . 
She was my first love and when she smiled at him I was jealous , and when he bullied her I changed the gun to a knife because it would last longer . 
But now I see what he tried to do and what it cost him . 
Now I 'm grateful for all he tried to do and ashamed of the boy who gave him nothing in return , not even thanks . 
He wrote me long letters during the war , clever letters but excited , too , excited not about the war but about what would happen afterwards . 
In Greece , the Balkans , in Arabia and Egypt and Africa , in India and Burma and Malaya . 
He was always looking ahead to what the war meant to those countries and what freedom would mean to them . " 
Helen murmured : " Is he a Communist ? " and Willie smiled as he shook his head . 
" Everybody these days has to be something . 
Conservative , Socialist , Communist , as though you must belong to some party to have any opinion worth calling an opinion . 
But Creedy does n't belong to any opinion . 
He 's an individual . 
He thinks for himself . 
Sometimes he sounds like a Communist . 
Sometimes like St Francis . 
Sometimes like a boy lost in the dark . 
But to me he 'll always be what he was all those years ago . 
A sincere man , for ever crusading , if not against ignorance , then for a boy from Slack Lane who sat in the back row and made raspberry noises . 
I know now what I did n't realize then , that without Creedy I 'd have been in Slack Lane for ever , doing nothing and learning to know that it was nothing . 
Dying by eight-hour stints . " 
Then he told her of Aunt Nance and the dream ; a white cottage in the country with the wood-smoke pottering from the chimney and the delphiniums blue . 
She asked questions about this cottage , probing him , so that he told her about the logs of wood , criss-crossed in the hearth , about the kettle-holder on its hook and the red curtains and the low beam at the bottom of the stairs . 
He could not understand her interest in this cottage , for , of course , there was no such cottage and could never be ; it was just the creation of a dream . 
He did not ask why she probed for details . 
It was enough just to talk . 
They began to go everywhere , so that people learned to say : " Hello , Willie , hello , Helen , nice to see you , Helen . " 
He loved to hear them linking their names in this way . 
The link was a form of marriage . 
At the races they said it . 
Harry Carr said : " Hello , Willie , " then touched his cap for Helen . 
At the theatre they said it . 
Charlie Chester welcomed them to his dressing-room — " Only milk , " Charlie said , " I 'm drinking milk " — then pulled up a chair for Helen . 
At the City ground they said it . 
Stanley Matthews said : " Always nice to see you , Willie , " then gave his shy nod and smile to Helen . 
Willie was grateful to the big names ; to Colin Cowdrey and Jack Hawkins and Ted Ray . 
They could see how much it meant to him . 
And when there were parties to celebrate a new play , new book , new hit-song , new exhibition , Helen was there to help him through , although he 'd always said he despised parties ; you paid too high a price for the free drink . 
He said : " It 's all right as long as I look across the room and see you , Helen . 
Never mind the crap talk , the scratch-my-back talk , the men pretending to be women and the women wishing they were men . 
As soon as I see you and know you 're still there , then it 's all right , Helen . " 
They never mentioned Parnell , but he seemed to be there ; in the back seat , his forearms on their seats , watching with amusement , because the more they shared the more vulnerable they became . 
Once Helen said : " We 're not married , not really married , " and slowly , reluctantly , disjointedly it came out . 
How it had begun by Parnell sleeping in the dressing-room , because he came home so late and did not wish to disturb her . 
Then he had put aside pretence and slept in another room , making it plain to the girl who could not understand . 
" That was 1939 , " Helen said , "the year of the war . " 
His glance was shocked and the car swerved . 
That 's a long time , the glance said . 
Helen 's smile still showed the hurt . 
" It took me a long time to realize that he did n't find me attractive any more . 
I made excuses . 
Hundreds of excuses . 
I pretended not to know about the other women . 
Then there was the war and the evacuees , such beautiful children , and my letters to you and yours to me and in the end there was this , Willie , what we have now . 
You and me . " 
"You could divorce him . " 
He knew at once that she would not . 
" Before she died Mummy wanted me to divorce him . 
She 'd learned to hate , she who was always so gentle , she 'd learned to hate and cared about nothing except that hate . 
Not the scandal , not the gossip , nor the harm it would do to the newspaper . 
But I ca n't . 
The Herald means too much for that . " 
He drove with sudden anger , glancing at the speedometer , then boosting it higher . 
It flickered around seventy and she glanced in alarm . 
He saw the alarm and let the rage go out of him . 
The needle flickered down to sixty , to fifty , and the old car relaxed like a horse when the race is done . 
" Careful , Willie , or we 'll never get there . " 
" Is n't there something simpler you can do , like taking her dancing . 
There are one or two restaurants out on the islands . 
They look very romantic . " 
He took my advice . 
That same evening he and Elaine dressed in their best and went out to dinner . 
But oddly it was not the dinner which distracted her from her troubles but what came after . 
They came back from the pension after I had gone to bed and I did not see them . 
But a little after six , I woke to hear a tapping on my door and found Steve in his pyjamas , his shoulders wrapped in a blanket . 
" What the hell ... " 
I began , then noticed that his face was grey . 
" Steve , what 's wrong ? " 
"I do n't know . 
I 've been in the lavatory since four o'clock and I feel as sick as a dog . " 
"It must be something you 've eaten . " 
His teeth were chattering . 
" Do n't stand here : you 'll catch a cold . 
Get back into bed . " 
He walked back meekly to his room and got into bed . 
" If you 've been up since four , " I said , " why the devil did n't you call me sooner ? " 
"I tried to but you were sound asleep . " 
"But could n't you have tried any of the others ? " 
He shrugged . 
" I suppose I 've known you longest . " 
His teeth were still chattering but his forehead , when I felt it , was hot and clammy . 
He said , " I must have a temperature . 
I 've been sitting exams half the night that even Einstein would have flunked . " 
I went to the wardrobe , found another blanket and spread it on the bed . 
" Next time you catch the pox , " I said , " do it in England . 
It 's so much cheaper on the National Health . " 
"Next time that 's what I 'll do . " 
I tucked in the blanket . 
" I 'll go downstairs now and see if they 've something you can take . 
If it 's not any better by breakfast-time , we 'll get a doctor . " 
I felt pretty useless , standing and watching but his face was growing paler . 
At any moment he would vomit and I did not want to leave him by himself . 
I went outside , towards the stairs , then tumbled to what I should do . 
I stopped at Elaine 's door , tapped on it and went on tapping until it was opened and she stood there , her eyes half open , in nightgown and wrap . 
" Peter , what is it ? " 
"It 's Steve . 
He 's not very well . " 
"He 's not . " 
Her eyes opened . 
She seemed concerned . 
I had done right to wake her up . 
" But what is it ? 
What 's the matter ? " 
"I do n't know . 
I imagine it 's something he has eaten . " 
She tied the cord of her wrap and stepped into the corridor . 
" It was my idea to wake you . 
He would n't have wanted to disturb you himself . " 
"I 'm glad you did . 
There 's nothing worse than being ill away from home . " 
She led the way into his room . 
When she laid her hand on his forehead he opened his eyes . 
" Hey ! 
What are you doing here ? " 
"You should have called me , " she said . 
" It was n't friendly . " 
He made a sudden gesture towards the wash-basin and understanding quicker than me , she dashed across , lifted the bidet from its stand and held it against his chest just in time . 
" It must have been the fish , " she said , " it 's the one thing I did n't have . " 
From her fear of insects , I would have expected her to be fastidious but not a scrap . 
She took the bidet away , wiped his face with a towel as if she were doing these things every day , and then to my astonishment , laid her cheek gently against his forehead . 
And it was n't done for effect ; she really meant it . 
For she stayed with him , sitting by the bed until he dropped off to sleep and then went out in his car to bring back a doctor before she would think of having breakfast . 
He was ill for three days and for the whole time , she stayed near him in the hotel , either in his room or sitting on the terrace , where she could hear him when he called . 
With dark hair and haggard face , he made an appealing patient . 
But because I thought of her as hard and egotistical , I could not believe that she stayed with him simply from affection . 
It is something I ca n't be sure of , but I think perhaps after her disappointment she felt unwanted and to have someone dependent on her must have consoled her a lot . 
On the morning of the fifth day , I went into his room as I usually did , soon after I had woken , to see how he was , and found Elaine lying next to him in the bed . 
I do n't believe they had been making love — that , I imagine , did not happen until a day or so later . 
But the fact that I stood there , wishing them good morning without the slightest embarrassment showed how closely in those few days they had come together . 
[ 4 ] 
It was the same , too , for Alison and me . 
We were English and , without discussing it , had taken separate rooms ; and we kept our promise never to snog in front of the others . 
But that , instead of keeping us apart , made us all the more passionate once we were alone . 
We spent our time , sometimes with Max and Jill but more often alone , swimming , or on the steamers , or wandering in Steve 's car into the hills . 
In the heat of the day we would come back for lunch and afterwards I would go upstairs , sleep it off in a quick half-hour , then creep along the corridor and tap at Alison 's door ; and asleep or awake , she would hear the first tap and come to the door to let me in . 
We made love in those few days many times . 
The heat , the wine , Stresa itself — the beauty of it — made us both unbelievably amorous . 
Perhaps because we knew each other that much better , or simply because we had privacy and a spring mattress , we enjoyed each other very much more . 
With regular oats and mounds of spaghetti , I put on weight . 
I became bronzed , almost handsome . 
And the same process turned Alison into a raving beauty , so that sometimes when we were making love , I had to close my eyes and keep from looking at her , in case I became too roused and satisfied myself before her . 
Afterwards , while she dozed , I would lie back against the head of the bed , staring into the twilight and feeling wonderfully calm , wonderfully rested . 
I would sit there , my body cool and naked , the sheet for comfort tucked into my crutch , stroking her cheek or her hair and listening to the sounds , the clatter of a train , the spluttering of a scooter , that drifted in through the closed shutters . 
And I 'd think how right it was , how much more moral , to live like this than like a hermit . 
I was calm , contented and then for three days making love was not possible and I found out what had happened . 
I still spent the siesta in Alison 's room but instead of making love , we would lie side by side and talk . 
We talked a great deal in those days at Stresa , and the more we talked , the more I liked her . 
She was slow sometimes to sense the comic — her life perhaps had been too easy — but she never pretended , she never talked for effect . 
I never felt with her as I had felt with others , that I was talking to myself in a padded room . 
In everything she said , was enthusiasm and a sort of passion . 
For three days I went without my oats . 
Then , on the last night we spent in Stresa , I went up to bed a little early while Alison went for a shower . 
Because it was the last night I opened the shutters and looked out through the trees . 
A faint scent came from the flowers on Steve 's balcony . 
The sky overhead was a mass of stars . 
I could see the lights of a steamer far away on the lake and right beneath me , in the dark beneath the trees , I could see a firefly winking to and fro in the bushes . 
Then the door behind me was opened , I turned and saw Alison . 
She came over to me and kissed me on the cheek . 
" Peter , " she said , " I thought I should tell you , I 'm clean again and decent . " 
I took her to bed and we made love . 
Because I had n't expected it and because she had come to me , I was taken unawares . 
In the last moment I opened my eyes and saw her face and there it was , right in my throat , the urge to say that I loved her . 
The words came to me like a pain but I held them back . 
I knew even then that I 'd be stupid to say them . 
But afterwards when I was lying quiet , with my head on her shoulder , I did not feel as I had felt before . 
I felt exposed , unprotected , somehow afraid of what might happen . 
When I woke in the morning , it was none too early and Alison had gone already . 
I sat up and gave my head a damned good scratch . 
Through the window , from the terrace underneath , I could hear Max and Elaine and then Alison ; so instead of lying back again for another five , I got up and went to the window to open the shutters . 
I had just begun to open the first when I saw Steve on his balcony . 
He was standing quite still and well back from the balustrade so as not to be noticed . 
I could see only his profile and that not very well , yet I knew at once he was looking down at Elaine . 
I left the shutter as it was and went back silently into the room . 
I had some idea now of what was happening to me and I suppose because of it , I knew for certain , without even seeing his face , that he too was on the hook . 
[ 5 ] 
I went down to breakfast that morning with a sort of pre-examination shakes . 
The hot weather , or the wine at dinner had given me palpitations and I felt suspicious . 
I had seen the world the night before as one gigantic romance . 
Yet , when I joined the others , everything , from the littered table to the look on Alison 's face , seemed horribly normal , horribly mundane . 
Max was worrying , as he always did because he liked to . 
" Venice will be crowded . 
This time of year it always is . 
We ought to 'phone Vittorio and ask him to book us rooms . " 
"But why bother him ? " 
Steve said . 
" We can manage . " 
"We 'll have a lot more fun if we can meet up with some of the Venetians . " 
"Well , we can easily 'phone him when we get there , " Steve replied . 
" There 's no need to bother him now . " 
"Anyway , " Jill said , "we 're not quite sure when we 'll arrive . 
It sounds from the guide book as if Verona were worth a visit . " 
And that was how it was left — that we did n't 'phone . 
But instead of being relieved , I felt a little hurt . 
I should have liked it much better if Alison had spoken up , if she had said for instance that Vittorio was a bore . 
We left Stresa shortly after breakfast and were approaching Verona by the afternoon . 
Verona at first sight seemed dusty and unremarkable . 
I asked Max to stop the car outside a greengrocer 's and went in to buy peaches , luscious and as big as melons . 
I took one of the ripest and stood on the pavement , with Alison beside me , holding my head well forward and letting the juice trickle over my chin . 
I was wishing Bowling had been there to turn up his nose , when I noticed Alison , looking down at a poster on the wall . 
" The opera , " she said . 
" I forgot all about it . " 
"Opera ? 
What opera ? " 
"They have it here in the open air , in the Roman arena . " 
CHAPTER TWO 
HE REMEMBERED his parents talking of Maine , where they came from , a vague and distant place girded with rocks and bound by hard winters . 
Thinking back sometimes , was pleasant in a painful way , and the sum of recollection inclined him to believe his parents had settled the emerald meadows because they reminded them of Maine . 
Small , rich fields interspersed with fingerlings of forest , along the swift-falling curves and bends of the watershed they had called Roan 's Creek . 
It was easy to recall the slab-house under trees that leaned and creaked like antiquated gladiators when winter hurled its fierce assaults . 
And the creek that flowed southward , down towards the flat belly of prairie , and squandered its clear-water strength there . 
And the crooked road wrought by his father with its fringe of shade the full length ; a narrow old snake of a road , all shade-mottled and dusty looking , leading up out of the prairie into the blue-shaggy Beyond ; into the highland where deer and bear and all manner of game lived ; where meadows lay hidden , swollen with stirrup-high grass . 
There was a great fullness to the uplands , where the land swept back from the prairie-desert , broadening out , lifting higher and becoming wilder in its rich fertility until it burst against the sky in a dark and straining way . 
Somehow , Ben thought , and not only because there was beauty up there , that land had a hold on him . 
He 'd travelled far and wide , seen tons of country , some full of beauty and a grand solemnity that made a man hurt for looking on it ; some harsh and forbidding , some jagged and untamed , or tilted against the flaming sunsets , or flat and docile , but he had never seen a country that reached down inside and gripped him like the uplands he 'd known since infancy , held him now . 
He belonged there . 
Nothing ; man , animal , or element , could turn him away . 
Least of all the Marlows . 
He arose and dressed with these thoughts ; he ate at the diner with them for company , then he went over and bought a sturdy wagon from the liveryman , to implement them . 
He also bought a team of big bay horses , a good set of harness . 
Then he drove to the Deming Mercantile Company and loaded up kegs of nails , a big grindstone , two axes and two saws , all the impedimenta of building , all the requisites for putting down roots . 
And finally , with his saddlehorse tied to the tailgate , his carbine on the seat beside him , he took his way northward out of Deming . 
Cliff Thompson lingered in the shade of the Oasis Saloon 's overhang , smoking a cigarette , and watching . 
When the wagon was lost in the shimmering , heat-scourged distance , he flung the cigarette down and stamped on it . 
It irritated him that Ben Roan would not see that he was heading straight for a killing ; his own or someone else 's . 
" Morning , Marshal . 
Was n't that Ben Roan that drove that wagon out of town ? " 
Thompson bent a hard look at the lawyer . 
" It was , " he said shortly . 
" Why did n't you tell him to wait until there was a hearing over that road before going up there ? " 
"Someone has to bring action before there 's any case , Marshal . " 
Thompson looked unpleasant . 
" Yeh , " he said . 
" I know . 
There are two sides to the law — your side and my side . 
I get paid to prevent trouble and you get paid for starting it . 
In fact , you do n't get paid unless it does start . " 
Charlie Bell squinted northward . 
" Unless there 's a restraining order issued to prevent him from using that road , it 's his right to use it . 
He can go up there any time he wants to . 
You know that . 
So far there 's only been talk , and talk does n't mean a thing . " 
"Law-book theory , " Thompson said shortly . 
" Did you ever try law-book theory against a cocked pistol , Bell ? " 
"Do n't be ridiculous . 
As a matter of fact , you should be riding up there with him . 
That 's the only way you can prevent trouble — stop it before it starts . 
If you can do that , there 'll be no need for attorneys . " 
"Now who 's being ridiculous ? 
You know damned well I ca n't forbid either the Marlows or Ben Roan from fighting one another without a court order , and by the time I get the order , the killing has already begun . 
I wish folks who make laws had to carry law books in their holsters instead of guns . " 
Bell continued to squint into the distance and Marshal Thompson fell into a deep and disgusted silence . 
A solitary vertical groove of disapproval lay deep between his eyebrows . 
Ben drove steadily and did not look back . 
Deming squatted far back in the quivering heat one moment , and the next moment it blurred into a soiled murk low against the roll of far horizon . 
His thoughts were on other things . 
The Marlows might have money now , good horses and a large herd , but he knew men ; that kind did n't change inwardly . 
He knew from a dozen gunfights that it was what lay inside men that counted , not their bankrolls nor their herds , nor the quality of their stock . 
The Marlows had never had it , and all the money in the world would n't put it into them . 
They might try scaring him out ; probably would . 
Or they might shoot his horses , or even try to bushwhack him , but when it came to stand-up-and-fight , or cut and run , lead bullets or fast horses , he knew which way they 'd go . 
He forged steadily ahead towards the blue-shadows where the land swelled upwards with a heavy lift and fullness . 
He kept a sharp watch but made no attempt to conceal his coming by clinging to the creek-willows or the meagre shadows . 
If they were watching , let them watch . 
If they 'd found a pinch of guttiness among them , let them show it . 
He was drinking in the beauty of the shade and the uplands ' deep silence when movement to his right , a quiver of colour , of red and white , snagged at the corner of his vision . 
Facing swiftly half around , one hand moving in a blur , he saw the horse , head up , tail high and waving , running westward . 
A lemon-yellow sun , burning-huge , cast a haziness over the distance . 
He watched the horse long enough to discern flopping stirrups and broken reins , then he back-traced with his eyes to where the sprawl of colour lay in the dead grass ; swung the team , urged them closer and kept staring at the vivid hues until he was close enough to make out arms and legs , then he slowed , set the brake and jumped down . 
He rolled her over with one hand , straightened her limbs and knelt there wondering who she was , where she had come from . 
Her blouse was tight-rising , violent red , and her riding skirt was creamy and expensive looking . 
Her face , even in unconsciousness , was square , full-lipped , and wilful appearing , and a thick riot of auburn hair glistened fiercely in the sunlight . 
He shaded her face with his hat and waited . 
She was uninjured so far as he could see , except for being knocked senseless by the fall . 
He twisted to look after the horse . 
It had disappeared . 
He was smoking and studying the upland shadows when she said , " Oh ... ! " 
He punched out the cigarette , lifted her head and smoothed away the hair . 
" What happened , ma 'm ? " 
"Oh ... 
He bucked me off . " 
He propped her up against his knee , put his hat back on and bent to shield her from the sun . 
" Nothing 's broken that I could find . " 
The girl felt the back of her head and said , " Ouch ! " 
He watched her a moment , then gripped her by both arms . 
" Come on ; you can stand up . 
I 'll drive you home . " 
She looked into his face for the first time , and her long eyes narrowed . 
" Who are you ? " 
"Ben Roan . 
I own some land up in the foothills . " 
"Roan ... ? " 
She blinked and stared . 
He nodded . 
" And who are you , ma 'm ? " 
"Sarahlee Marlow . " 
He stared . 
" Marlow ? 
Kin to old Will and the others ? " 
"Will is my uncle . 
The boys are my cousins . " 
"I do n't recollect ever hearing of any other Marlows hereabouts . " 
"My people live in Santa Fe . 
I 've been up here since last May looking after grandpaw . 
He 's very old . " 
"Well , " Ben said , helping her to arise . 
" Come on ; I 'll drive you on up to the Marlow place . " 
While he was setting the lines straight with his back to her , she straightened her clothes , brushed herself off , and looked westerly , after the horse , with anger in her eyes , but she said nothing . 
He helped her up , went around and climbed up beside her , and flicked the lines . 
The team leaned , the wagon ground back onto the road , and for a while the only sound was of iron tyres grinding down into the gritty dust . 
Where the green bog lay the ascent began . 
Ben slapped with the lines , the team leaned into their collars , and the trail steepened . 
Not until they were on the level again , moving through tree-shade , did the girl speak . 
" What you 're doing is foolish , Mr. Roan . " 
"Is it ? " 
Ben said easily , without looking around at her . 
" It does n't seem that way to me . " 
He let the lines lie slack . 
The team dropped their heads and toed into the next upgrade . 
" My cousins wo n't let you do it . " 
He turned , finally , and gazed at her . 
" You know , ma 'm . 
I 've heard that before . 
I did n't believe it then , and I do n't believe it now . " 
"You have no right-of-way to the old Roan place . " 
"Ma 'm , my father built this road almost thirty years ago . 
Before the Marlows were in this country . " 
"But the road has n't been used since you left . " 
"Maybe not , but whether I 've got a right or not is for a law-court to decide — not your cousins , or your uncle . " 
Ben shrugged slightly , studied the land ahead , then said , " I ca n't make old Will like the idea of my being up in here , but he might as well get used to the idea . " 
She studied his profile for a moment , before she said , " You 're going to make a lot of unnecessary trouble , Mr. Roan . " 
"No ; I 'm not going to make any trouble . 
All I 'm going to do is build a cabin , a barn , some corrals , and try to live in peace . 
If there 's trouble it wo n't be me that starts it . " 
He was going to say more when movement among the trees ahead caught his attention . 
The lines lay in his left hand ; the right hand was curled and moving when a big-framed man moved out into the road in front of the team . 
He was holding a carbine one-handed ; it was cocked . 
" That 's far enough , Roan . " 
Ben recognised Harold Marlow . 
" Hello , Hal , " he said quietly . 
" Sarahlee ! " 
The way Marlow said it , it sounded like "Sally " . 
" What'n tarnation you doing up there ? " 
"That horse El gave me bucked me off . " 
"Are you hurt ? " 
"No ; but — " 
" El told you he was green-broke . 
It 's a wonder you did n't get hurt bad . " 
Marlow gestured with the carbine . 
" Get down off'n there . " 
"Wait a minute , " Ben said . 
" She 'll get down when you empty that carbine . " 
The big man looked hard at Roan . 
" Empty hell , " he said . 
" You 're not talking to Guy now . 
You 're going to turn that caravan around and head back out of here . " 
"Be a shame to see you kill your cousin , " Ben said . 
" Be sure you shoot straight , Hal . " 
"Roan ! 
Do n't try it ! " 
"Behind two big horses and beside a girl ? 
Of course I 'm going to try it . 
The odds 're in my favour . " 
One of the team-horses blew its nose and the girl started . 
Her single "Do n't " was half scream , half sob . 
Neither man looked at her . 
The silence was tight around them all . 
" Harold , let him go . " 
"Ca n't , Sarahlee ; you know that . " 
"Then wait until I get down . " 
Ben caught her right wrist with his left hand . 
He never took his eyes off Hal . 
" All right , " he said . 
He kept trying for the heart when he should have gone for an exposed wrist or arm . 
His tie was flapping loose now ; his hat was gone and his shoes were dusty . 
His face was shiny and sweating ; so was mine , no doubt . 
He came in again , and as I parried I realized that he was tiring : his point was far out of line . 
There 's an old trick whereby you can , theoretically , disarm a man if he 'll stand still for it . 
I do n't suppose it was ever used in actual combat , any more than any of the old Western gunmen ever used such fancy stunts as the highwayman 's roll or the border shift . 
You do n't generally do juggling tricks when your life 's at stake . 
But still , it was a theoretical possibility , and he was right in position for it , and I had to do something with him that was n't lethal . 
I made a sharp counter-clockwise circle with the cane — I 've forgotten the technical name of the manoeuvre — catching that wide point and spinning it around , twisting the weapon in his grasp ... 
An alert swordsman , in good condition , would simply have come smoothly around my blade , or cane , and continued his attack ; but the little man 's reflexes were slowing , his wrist was tired , and the sudden wrench caught him by surprise , took the sword away from him , and sent it flying across the road . 
He stood there for a moment , disarmed and vulnerable , and I could n't decide what the hell to do with him . 
I guess I was a bit tired , too . 
When I moved , it was a bit too late . 
He gave a kind of sob and ran after his weapon . 
He beat me to it and picked it up and came at me again , but he was n't fencing any more . 
He had the sword in both hands and he was wielding it like a club , beating at my head and shoulders . 
He was crying with frustration and anger as he whacked away , trying to chop me down like a tree . 
It was all I could do to defend myself against the crazy attack . 
I could kill him , all right — he was wide open , with his arms above his head like that , and one straight-armed lunge would have driven the brass-tipped cane through the cartilages of his throat — but I was n't supposed to kill anybody . 
Under no circumstances . 
This is an order . 
This is an order . 
Suddenly I had too many weapons . 
My hands were full ; I had to get rid of something if I was going to take him alive , although this seemed to have most of the pleasant aspects of getting a living , spitting bobcat out of a tree . 
I parried a two-handed cut with the sword that would have laid my scalp open even if the weapon did n't have a edge on it . 
I threw my arms about the little man , dropped everything and , clutching him desperately — if he got free now , he could run me through in an instant — I gave him the knee just as hard and dirty as I could . 
When he doubled up , I clubbed him on the back of the head , not with the edge of the hand to break his neck , but just with the heel of my fist , like a hammer , to drive him down into the road . 
He went down , and curled up like a baby , hugging himself where it hurt . 
Breathing hard , I retrieved my knife . 
I picked up the sword , and the cane sheath , and fitted them back together . 
It was a beautiful job of workmanship : you could n't see the joint at all . 
I picked up the Homburg hat and dusted it off , and carried it back to the little guy , who was still lying there . 
My left hand ached , and I did n't feel a bit sorry for him , although I had to admit , in all honesty , that he 'd put on a damn good show . 
Whether it was genuine or phony remained to be determined . 
I bent over to hear what he was moaning . 
I caught a name , and leaned closer . 
" Sara , " he was whimpering . 
" I did my best , Sara . 
I am sorry . " 
Then he looked up at me . 
" I am ready , " he said more clearly . 
" If I were just a little bigger ... 
But I am ready now . 
Kill me , murderer , as you did her ! " 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
IT TOOK US a while to get things straightened out . 
When he 'd finally become reconciled to not dying heroically at my hands , the little man told me he was Sara Lundgren 's fiance , Raoul Carlsson , of the house of Carlsson and LeClaire , women 's clothing , Stockholm , Paris , London , Rome . 
He 'd met Sara at her dress shop in the line of business , it seemed , and romance had flowered . 
He 'd been worried about his Sara lately , however . 
She 'd seemed preoccupied and unhappy , he said . 
Finally , when she stood him up for lunch and then called up later the same day from a certain hotel to cancel their dinner engagement for reasons that did n't ring quite true , he 'd taken it upon himself to go there and ... well , to tell the truth , he 'd spied on her . 
For her own good , of course , not because he was the least bit jealous . 
He merely wanted to know what was troubling her so that he could help . 
Watching her surreptitiously as she waited in the hotel lobby , he 'd soon realized that she , in turn , was busy watching for somebody else . 
He 'd seen me come through the lobby with Lou Taylor . 
Sara had followed us , and he 'd followed Sara . 
After dinner , he 'd trailed us all back to the hotel . 
Then Sara had got her car and driven into the park . 
He 'd been behind her until she stopped . 
She got away from him briefly while he was looking for a suitable place to leave his own car . 
When he got back to the parking lot on foot , her fancy Volkswagen was standing there empty . 
He 'd waited in the bushes for her to return . 
He 'd seen her come back to the car with me . 
We 'd had a long conversation not as friendly as it might have been , he thought . 
I 'd left abruptly , he thought in anger , and disappeared into the darkness . 
Almost immediately , as if dispatched by me , two men had come and dragged Sara out of her car and carried her off in the direction I 'd taken . 
While he , Carlsson , was still trying to make his way after her through the trees and darkness , there had been shots . 
He 'd come to the edge of the clearing and seen me standing there , looking grim and terrible . 
At my feet was his beloved , his Sara , lying on the ground , brutally beaten and shot to death . 
He 'd started forward , but the police had come ... 
" Why did n't you tell them about me ? " 
I asked , when he stopped . 
He shrugged his shoulders expressively . 
" They would have put you in prison where I could not reach you . 
I was crazy with grief and anger . 
I was going to punish you myself , not give you to some stupid policeman ! " 
After a moment , he went on : " I slipped away . 
I learned your name at the hotel . 
When you left , in the morning , it was easy to determine your destination . 
I followed . " 
"With your little sword-cane , " I said dryly . 
He shrugged again . 
" Pistols are not so common here as they are in your country , Herr Helm . 
It was the only weapon I owned . 
I thought it would suffice . 
I did not expect to meet a swordsman with an American passport . " 
He grimaced . 
" You are skilful , sir , but that little knife , I do not think that was quite fair . " 
After a moment , he said , " You can not tell me this secret business in which , you say , my Sara was engaged , that led to her death ? 
You can not tell me who killed her ? " 
I said , " No , but I can assure you the man will be taken care of . " 
That was big talk , for someone whose hands were tied by official orders , but I had to say something to get this little firebrand out of my hair . 
The situation was complex enough without being loused up further by vengeful amateurs . 
I finally got him to promise to go back to Stockholm and leave everything to me . 
I took his home address and telephone number , and promised to notify him when I had something to notify him about . 
I watched him get into his big American car and drive away . 
Then I got into my little Volvo , drove back to the hotel , stuck some bandaids on my fingers , and went to bed . 
In the morning , I had my breakfast in a corner of the hotel dining room , which I shared , for the moment , only with a pair of railroad workers and a tourist couple from Norway — the language sounds like badly garbled Swedish , to a Swede . 
Outside the windows , it was a bright , clear fall day . 
I hoped it would stay that way , for photography 's sake . 
I sipped my coffee , and nibbled at the stuff on my plate , and thought about Mr. Raoul Carlsson , which was a waste of time . 
If the little man was kidding me , I 'd know more about it when Vance made his report , I hoped within the next day or two . 
A shadow fell across the table . 
" Are you thinking deep thoughts ? " 
Lou Taylor asked . 
" If so , I 'll go away . " 
I rose and helped her with her chair . 
She was wearing the same rust-brown skirt and sweater as yesterday , with the same sturdy walking shoes . 
She had a trench coat with her , but she 'd dropped it on a chair . 
As far as I 'm concerned , a trench coat looks fine on Alan Ladd , and not bad on Marlene Dietrich , but she was n't either one . 
She smiled at me across the table , and stopped smiling abruptly . 
" What happened to your hand ? " 
I glanced at my bandaged fingers . 
" I cut it , " I said . 
" I dropped a glass and cut myself picking up the pieces . " 
She said dryly , " I think you 'd better get yourself another girl , Matt . " 
I frowned . 
" What does that mean ? 
Are you bowing out ? " 
"Oh , I was n't referring to myself , " she said , laughing quickly . 
" I mean , your night girl , the one who plays so rough . 
A black eye yesterday , two cut fingers today — or did she bite you ? " 
"Keep it clean , now . " 
"Well , what do you do nights , to get yourself all beat up like that , if it is n't a girl ? 
The secret life of Matthew Helm ... 
Helm ? " she said . 
" Is that a Swedish name ? " 
"More or less , " I said . 
" It used to be fancier , but Dad whittled it down to something even Yankees could pronounce . " 
"I thought you must have some Scandinavian blood , or you would n't be sitting there eating that stuff so calmly . 
Fish for breakfast , my God ! " 
She glanced at her watch . 
" Well , we 'd better hurry ; they 'll be here in ten minutes . 
Do you think I could possibly promote a simple cup of black coffee and some toast ? 
{ Rostat bro " d , they call it , " she said . 
" That means , literally , roasted bread ... " 
It was hard to figure her . 
If she was on the other team , she was very good indeed . 
She 'd have been told I knew Swedish perfectly well , yet here she was calmly instructing me in the language of my ancestors , as she 'd taught me their system of measurement the day before . 
Well , it was always nice to deal with people who knew their business . 
When the company car arrived , right on schedule , it turned out to be a long , black , dignified-looking old Chrysler limousine complete with one middle-aged gent in a chauffeur 's cap to drive it , and one young guy named Lindstro " m to answer our questions and keep us out of trouble . 
The two men helped me load my paraphernalia aboard ; then we drove to the mine entrance , less than a mile from the hotel , and were passed through the gate with some formality . 
We took a road up the side of a mountain named Kirnnavaara — vaara means mountain in Finnish , Lou informed me . 
The country lane was lonely . 
Terrified , she faced the man who barred her way . 
He gripped her arm ... then he suddenly turned and ran as he heard VOICES IN THE DARK A Short Story by Trevor Allen 
AS dusk deepened to darkness in the gloomy beechwood Sheila shivered . 
Shadows on either side of the path scared her . 
She was out of breath , stumbling over roots and ruts , pressing on to reach the road before utter darkness swallowed her . 
If she had n't taken the wrong path on the common and gone miles out of her way , she would have been home long before sunset . 
Now she felt , with mounting terror , that she might never find the road at all and have to spend the night huddled in the shelter of bushes or a hedge . 
What a fool she 'd been to come on this walk alone ! 
But she 'd set out in a temper . 
She was fed up , desperate to get away from everyone for an hour or two — especially father . 
He 'd been nagging her again . 
Nothing she did ever pleased him . 
He was a builder 's foreman and seemed to think he could order her about as he did his men — as if she was still a child instead of a girl of seventeen earning her own living . 
When she grew her hair beehive style because other girls were doing it , he said : 
" Why do you have to have your hair like that ? 
It 's hideous ! " 
When she bought her first stiletto-heeled shoes he grumbled : 
" How can you walk on those things , wobbling at every step ? 
They 'll ruin your feet — and the carpets , too . " 
He did n't like her wearing jeans . 
He objected to her going to the juke-box cafe2 where her friends met regularly . 
The last straw 
SHE 'D just bought a transistor radio set . 
When he saw it all he could say was : 
" Why on earth do you want to cart that about with you everywhere ? 
You 've got the telly at home ; is n't that enough ? " 
"I like it , " she had retorted , stung by this latest reproof . 
" And it 's my own money . 
I can listen to what I want any time , and it does n't do any harm . 
" Why must you always be getting at me , Dad ? 
Nothing I ever do is right ! " 
"It 's just a waste of money , " he had persisted . 
" You ought to start saving now you 're in a good job , as your mother and I did when we were young . " 
The transistor was the last straw — over Sunday tea , too . 
She had sulked , then wandered out , past the new housing estate on the outskirts , up the road that climbed to the beechwoods and common , on and on , furious , rebellious , thinking over and over : 
If Dad does n't stop going on at me I 'll leave home and get a room somewhere . 
I 'd do it now if it was n't for mother . 
Mother had always tried to smooth things out , saying : " She 's young , she 'll learn . " 
But father was obstinate , domineering . 
Panic 
THAT was how , too angry to notice where she was going , she had taken a wrong path back and got lost . 
But at last , with thankful relief , she came out on to the road and saw , through a gap in the hedge , the town lights in the valley . 
It was little more than a lane between high hedges . 
The lights looked a long way off . 
The road seemed to want to imprison her in its funnelled gloom . 
As she set off along it she heard footsteps approaching ahead of her and crossed over to the opposite side . 
" Good evening ! " said a thick voice in the darkness , as a man came abreast of her . 
Too scared to reply , she hurried on — then became aware that he had suddenly turned and was following her . 
The footsteps behind terrified her . 
She quickened her pace . 
The man quickened his , too , and was overtaking her . 
Panic seized her . 
She thought of the murders she 'd read about — of girls waylaid on lonely roads like this , girls missing for days , weeks , with search parties scouring the countryside , and then , in some hidden spot ... 
" Oh , God , " she prayed , "let me get home safely , let me get home , away from this terror ! " 
She wanted to run , but did n't want to show she was afraid , it might make things worse . 
Her tight new skirt was hampering to the knees , and she wondered if she could run . 
Terror had taken the strength from her legs . 
She prayed that someone would suddenly come along the lane out of the darkness and save her . 
As the footsteps drew close behind her she crossed to the other side of the road again , still frantically hurrying , panting and palpitating with fright . 
The man came alongside . 
She stopped , with her back to the hedge , facing him . 
" In a hurry , are n't you ? " he slurred . 
" Thought you might like company ... like ... " 
His breath smelt of drink . 
His tone was bantering , insinuating . 
He towered above her , an evil shadow in the night . 
" Please ! " she gasped , her heart pounding . 
" I do n't want company . 
Please ! " 
"Someone 's coming " 
SHE made to pass , but he blocked the way . 
" A nice girl like you , " he smirked , " all alone . 
You can be a bit friendly , ca n't you ? 
I 'm alone , too . 
Maybe we 'd get on all right . 
Maybe ... " 
She tried to sidestep him . 
He caught her arm . 
" A nice girl like you , " he repeated . 
The grip numbed her . 
She felt she was going to faint . 
Then ... dimly , distantly , voices sounded in the stillness . 
They seemed to come from down the road . 
Two men were talking . 
Now the voices sounded nearer , slightly louder , but still remote . 
Thank heaven , she was no longer alone , at his mercy ... 
" Help me ! " she screamed . 
" Help ! 
Help ! " 
Then , wrenching her arm away from him : " Now you 'll get what you deserve , you beast ! 
Someone 's coming ! " 
Startled , the man instantly released his grip and backed away from her . 
She heard him running up the road , the way they had come . 
Relieved , she started running in the opposite direction , towards the lights and the town , lifting her skirt to free her knees . 
Half running half walking , stumbling , she did n't slow down until she was out of breath and the lights of the new housing estate glimmered ahead . 
And now she knew whence the voices came . 
Involuntarily , as the man gripped her right arm , her finger had touched and turned the knob on top of the transistor , held by the strap in her left hand — this had been just enough to tune in faintly to the two men talking . 
Luckily he had heard them , too . 
" Waste of money ! " 
IT might have been tuned to another station . 
It might have been music instead of a discussion , a play , or whatever it was . 
She might have turned it full on instead of faintly , so that the voices seemed to come from a distance , down the road ... 
Then she hurried home to tell her father what the " waste of money " had done for her on the lonely road in the dark , with no one near to aid her . 
The menacing gunman was getting impatient as she stalled for time . 
Her position seemed hopeless ... then her desperate plan showed him that ... 
DIAMONDS ARE HARD TO GET A Short Story by SHEILA BURNS 
CHERRY backed her car up the drive to the garage , glad to be home . 
She had hated every moment of the television theatre away from her young , adored husband . 
She saw the light in his study and guessed that he was working on a new TV play . 
Closing the garage doors behind her , she was about to turn when she felt the cold muzzle of a gun against her back . 
" Just a minute , " said a gruff voice . 
Quickly it flashed through her mind that it was John 's anniversary gift the man was after . 
The newspapers had carried a story about it — a diamond brooch , and her first really expensive gift . 
Perhaps the man thought she had been wearing it at the broadcast . 
But it had been left at home in the tiny safe behind the picture of Mount Everest in the sitting room . 
" What do you want ? " she asked . 
" That brooch . " 
"I 'm not wearing it . " 
"A muffet " 
" WALK to the house , " the man commanded , " and do n't look back . 
Go inside and I 'll follow . 
Is your husband asleep ? " 
"He 's working late , " she said . 
" Go in just as you would if I was n't with you . " 
The house was empty , except for John and Bongo , the dog . 
Cherry walked up the side path to the door ; her fingers shivered as she put the key in the lock . 
She paused — and the gun prodded still harder in her back as the man said : "Go on . " 
From upstairs , John called : " That you , Cherry ? " 
"Yes , darling , I 'm back . " 
"Everything OK ? " 
This was the moment . 
She broke into a sweat , then said automatically : 
" Everything 's all right . " 
She crossed the little hall , the man close up behind her . 
Bongo was whining from the kitchen where he had been put to bed for the night . 
She walked into the little sitting room where she and John spent their happiest hours together . 
Usually she did n't come into this room immediately she returned home , and hoped that John would hear and notice it . 
But nothing happened . 
She had to attract his attention somehow , for she was " in a muffet . " 
That was what they had always called getting into a jam . 
As a child John had called a muddle a " muffet " — " Miss Muffet and the spider " he had explained and laughed at her . 
" What are you going to do ? " she asked the gunman . 
Playing for time 
SHE turned to face him , agony in her heart and hoping that she would not faint . 
He was smaller than she expected — a little rat of a man with close-set eyes . 
" I want a drink , " he said . 
There was a bottle of beer on the sideboard . 
She fetched it and held it out to him . 
" Put it on the table , lady , " he said , still pointing the gun at her , " and then tell me where the brooch is . " 
"It 's in the safe . " 
She spoke the truth , for she thought he might already know that John had got a home-made safe for it . 
A woman 's magazine had used the story as an item in the home life of celebrities . 
" I read about the safe , " the man said . 
" Where is it ? " 
She conquered the compelling desire to take a quick glance at the picture of Everest , and with her first flash of spirit , said : " That is my secret . " 
"I could make you tell me . 
I 'm here to get what I want . 
I live this way . 
" But the big breaks are too tricky for me . 
I want small pulls , something that fences do n't shy at , diamonds without a history behind them , but big enough to bring in the next meal . " 
He rapped the gun . 
" Open that bottle for me , " he said , " and pour it out . 
With a head on it ... that 's right . 
Now tell me where , lady . " 
She was amazed at the courage with which she said : " They 're upstairs . " 
"You could get 'em for me ? " 
"Yes . " 
"But unless I went along with you , you 'd tell your husband , I bet . 
If I did go with you , he 'd know , anyway . " 
"I wonder . " 
The man drank the beer , held out the glass for more , and for a second she faltered . 
She had got to think of some way out ; the longer she lingered , the easier it could be , for sooner or later John would realize that something was wrong . 
Closely the man eyed her . 
" If you do n't get it for me , lady , maybe I 'll go right up and shoot your husband . 
I could . " 
She winced . 
" Surely we could settle this between us , " she said suddenly . 
It would be easier to give the man the brooch , but somehow she still had a hope of not doing that . 
" You 've got to get it for me , " the man said between his teeth . 
Terrified 
THEN she heard John 's sudden footstep overhead and wondered if at last he realized that something was wrong . 
It Happened On The 6-15 
JOYCE SEATON was quarrelling with Barry West again . 
Barry had brought her more happiness than she had ever known was possible , and in her quieter moments she never had the slightest doubt she loved him . 
But lately they 'd been quarrelling far too often . 
She had never quarrelled with anyone more fiercely than she did with Barry and it was always about the same thing — whether she should give up her job and get married . 
" Why ca n't you understand ? " she said despairingly . 
" It 's more to me than just a job . 
It 's true I 've only been a secretary for a few weeks , but it 's what I 've dreamed and worked for since I started work . 
I 'm not just an ordinary typist any more , I 'm someone important . " 
Barry 's face set in the obstinate lines she had learned to recognise . 
" I know . 
At last you 've got the chance to order other people about and you get a kick out of it . 
It 's making you hard , Joyce . 
If you really meant what you said about loving me and wanting to marry me — " 
Seeing the wistful look on his face , Joyce began to regret all she 'd said . 
" I did mean it . " 
"Then why do n't you agree to be properly engaged ? " 
Joyce drew a deep breath , determined to remain calm and reasonable . 
" I thought I 'd explained how I feel . 
If I go around flashing an engagement ring it 'll look as though my mind was on something else instead of my work . 
" We neither of us go out with anyone else , do we ? 
What difference would an engagement make ? " 
Barry was quiet now , quiet and in deadly earnest . 
" It would mean that you really had made up your mind that your future lay with me . 
We could fix a date for our wedding and I could look forward to having you beside me all the time , instead of seeing you for an hour or less every night . 
" You would n't have to catch this darn train each day , getting home too tired to do anything . " 
He gazed at her earnestly . 
" It 's putting years on you , travelling to Marbury every day . 
You ought to take a look at yourself . 
You look much more tired since you took on that new job . 
Oh , I suppose you 've a bit more money to spend on clothes and make-up , but — " 
" That 's enough ! " said Joyce sharply . 
Barry had really touched her on the raw , telling her she looked older . 
She knew in her heart that the responsibility of her new job , the hectic day that never seemed long enough , was telling on her . 
But she would n't admit it for worlds . 
Joyce stood up and took down her shopping bag from the rack . 
" I think I 'd better find another compartment , " she said . 
" I was quite pleased when you came to Marbury to travel home with me . 
I did n't realise you 'd come to give me a lecture about the way I run my life . 
" Let me tell you , Barry West , that marriage is n't the only thing a girl thinks about these days . 
She can make a career for herself , lead a busy , useful life . 
That 's what I 'm doing , and I love it . 
In fact , I may never marry . " 
"Now look here , Joyce — " he said indignantly . 
SHE brushed past him and , stepping out into the corridor , closed the door behind her with a slam . 
She was always quick-tempered , and now tears of vexation blinded her eyes . 
She hesitated in the corridor , and the chill draught that swept along it calmed her a little . 
Of course she would marry Barry one day , but she was in no hurry to bury herself in a small house in Wilford . 
Barry really knew her , though . 
She loved the importance of her new job , the sense of urgency , having people doing as she asked — having extra money in her purse for new clothes , even for silly things like bits of costume jewellery or a new lipstick . 
She shivered again . 
She must n't stand here and catch cold , she told herself . 
Joyce had n't expected Barry to follow her , for she knew he was as obstinate as herself . 
It would look like a sign of weakness if she turned back and walked past his window . 
There was only one compartment between where she had been sitting with Barry and the end of the coach , so she opened the door and took a corner seat . 
After a second or so , her indignation subsided and she felt calm enough to take stock of her fellow-travellers . 
There was a man sitting opposite her holding a sporting paper in front of his face . 
Joyce did n't like what she saw of him , the long legs in narrow trousers and the shoes with pointed toes . 
The man lowered his paper to look at her and Joyce quickly glanced away , but not before her dislike of the stranger had been confirmed . 
He was older than she expected , about thirty , and his eyes were black and unusually searching . 
The thin mouth had an equally thin moustache above it . 
He might be harmless enough , but Joyce was relieved they were not alone in the compartment . 
There were two men sitting facing each other at the far end of the compartment . 
They 'd been chatting together , but as Joyce glanced at them , they both turned their heads and stared back . 
She closed her eyes , suddenly sick and more than a little scared . 
The look in their eyes had been one of pure hate . 
Joyce took another look at the man facing her , but he had raised his paper again . 
She was sure she had just imagined the strange look . 
Tonight , she was even more tired than usual . 
But , despite her assurances , there was still a nagging little fear in her heart . 
I 'll move farther up the train , she decided . 
Perhaps I can find an empty compartment . 
She rose , took her bag , and went out . 
She turned the corner and came across the door to the next coach , which the guard was locking . 
He turned towards her , a grey-haired , elderly man with a kindly face . 
" You ca n't go through here , miss , " he said . 
" Why not ? " said Joyce . 
" There 's plenty of room at the front of the train . 
I thought I might find a compartment where I could put my feet up . " 
The guard smiled at her but put away his keys . 
" You ca n't get through , miss , " he insisted . 
" This is the mail-coach and there is only the sorter inside . 
I have to lock this door everytime I pass through myself . 
Come along and I 'll find you a seat . " 
He was polite but firm as he led her away . 
He opened the first door he came to , the compartment with the three men inside . 
There was nothing else for Joyce to do but step inside and sit down in her corner again . 
The man across from her was still holding up his paper , and the other two men were leaning back . 
One of them looked as though he was asleep . 
JOYCE closed her eyes and tried to sleep herself , but an unusual inner excitement possessed her , and the noise of the train as it pounded through the night seemed louder than usual . 
She gave up the attempt to sleep and watched the empty corridor . 
The guard passed by towards the mail-van again , jingling his keys . 
The man across from Joyce tossed his paper aside and rose , stumbling over her feet . 
He did n't apologise . 
He opened the door with a curious intentness and followed the guard along the corridor and out of sight . 
He wo n't get far , Joyce thought . 
The guard will turn him back at the mail-van door . 
The man was away longer than she expected , and when he opened the door again , he was breathing quickly . 
He stood in the doorway , looking past Joyce to the other men , although previously there had been no sign that they knew each other . 
" Right , " said the man at the door . 
" Let's get going . " 
"Sit down , " said one of the thickset men quietly . 
He looked at his watch . 
" We 've got another three minutes . " 
Through her lashes Joyce watched the man with the pointed shoes sit down tensely on the edge of his seat . 
She knew now that something was really wrong . 
She kept very still , her head tilted back as though sleeping . 
Fear had her in its grip , for she knew now that she 'd been right the first time . 
Those men had resented her arriving in the carriage and upsetting their plans . 
Three silent men , tense and waiting , and the mail-van directly in front of them . 
What had happened to that kindly guard when the man with the pointed shoes had followed him ? 
Why was he anxious for action ? 
And why had the other man held him back with a curt command ? 
Joyce felt that she knew the reason . 
Later , as the train drew nearer to Wilford , it would slow down for the long climb up Shirley Rise . 
That was where these three men intended to leave it , after they had robbed the mail-van . 
I must tell someone , thought Joyce desperately . 
I must be calm and keep these men from guessing that I suspect anything . 
I 'll leave the compartment quietly and unhurriedly and go for help . 
She thought of Barry , sitting unsuspectingly beyond that wall only a few yards from her . 
She felt nervous and shaky , but willed herself to be natural and composed . 
She shook herself , opened her eyes and put up her hand as if to stifle a yawn , when she stood up , took her bag from the rack and turned towards the door . 
The man with the pointed shoes stood with his back to it , his beady , close-set eyes fixed on her . 
" Not now , sister , " he said softly . 
For a moment , Joyce felt her mouth go dry , but she answered him indignantly . 
" What do you mean — not now ? " 
He held his closed hand up before her , clenching something within his fist . 
His thumb moved , and she heard a sharp click . 
She found herself staring glassily at a knife-blade , only inches away from her face . 
Joyce turned and found that the other two men had risen and closed in on her from behind . 
" You 're coming with us , girlie , " he said . 
" We did n't want you , but it seems we 've got to take you along . " 
Joyce opened her mouth to scream , but he was gripping her arm , digging his fingers into her flesh . 
He thrust his face close to her own . 
" If you make a sound you 'll regret it , " he said menacingly . 
He broke off , and Joyce 's gaze shifted fearfully , looking anywhere except into that cruel , fleshy face . 
The man with the knife moved it sideways significantly , as if drawing it across her throat . 
She wilted , and they moved on . 
THE man with the knife stepped out first , and Joyce was pushed out behind him . 
She was hustled round to the door of the mail-van . 
Now there was a sense of urgency about the three men . 
Joyce was pushed roughly aside and she saw the man with the knife had the railway guard 's keys in his hands . 
He opened the door and at first she saw nothing but fat , disordered mail-sacks , with another closed door beyond where she guessed the sorter was at work . 
One of the men kicked a sack aside as he entered and she saw something else — a pair of feet jutting out from behind the bags — the guard . 
" Where 's the registered stuff ? " said one of the men . 
The man with the keys jerked his thumb towards the closed door . 
" In there , with the sorter . " 
"All right . 
Open up . " 
One man was guarding Joyce closely . 
She kept trying to tell herself that this was n't really happening . 
That she was n't involved in violence and robbery . 
The inner door was unlocked and flung open . 
A man in shirt-sleeves , working at a sorting rack , turned to stare . 
" Look out ! " 
Joyce cried . 
A hand clamped over her mouth . 
She was jerked backwards so painfully that her spine was jarred . 
SHE HAD TO DECIDE QUICKLY WHICH MAN TO TRUST — AND SHE CHOSE THE WRONG ONE ! 
THE NIGHT SHE CAUGHT THE LAST TRAIN HOME 
SHEILA FARRELL , waiting for the last train home , was n't happy about the way the Teddy boy kept eyeing her . 
After the past hectic hours at her girl friend 's twenty-first birthday party , she felt as flat as a deflated balloon . 
She wished that the train would hurry up . 
The Teddy boy glanced at the station clock . 
" Train 's late , " he said . 
Sheila was about to answer automatically when she realised what she was doing . 
She turned her head away uneasily . 
The stranger was n't put off . 
He tried again , sliding along the seat towards her . 
" Going far ? 
I 'm for Pulfern Green , myself . " 
He hesitated , then plunged on . 
" Do n't I know you ? 
I 'm sure I 've seen you before . 
Do you get this train often ? " 
What a corny line , Sheila thought , her heart thumping . 
A quick glance round told her that they might as well have been the only two people in the world . 
There was n't another soul to be seen , not even a porter . 
Would the Teddy boy follow her when she got on the train ? 
Sheila gave him a cold stare , rose to her feet and moved along the deserted platform , feeling lonely and afraid . 
Oh , how she wished she could have stayed the night at her friend 's ! 
If it had n't been her dad 's week for night shift , her mum would n't have minded . 
As it was , Mum could n't stand being alone in the house at night , and Sheila had promised that she 'd catch the last train . 
The approaching train made her jump nervously , although it was a relief to hear it . 
It drew noisily to a halt . 
Sheila entered an empty carriage and moved down the aisle towards its far end . 
She settled herself in a dark corner , every nerve strained , listening intently . 
It was n't until the train pulled out and she felt certain that nobody had entered the carriage , that she relaxed . 
She yawned , slipped off her shoes and , stretching out her legs , lay full-length along the seat . 
BY the time the train had pulled into the next station , Sheila was in a half doze . 
She was shocked awake , nerves leaping , at the sound of a carriage door being opened nearby . 
She lay still , waiting , her hands gripping her handbag . 
She could see the emergency chain just above her head and hoped that she would n't have to use it . 
When she heard several men 's voices she felt relieved , and relaxed again . 
A gruff voice rose from the next compartment . 
" No , there ai n't nobody in this carriage . 
I looked as it pulled up . 
You do n't get a lot of people travellin' at this time o' night . 
That 's why I thought it 'ud be safer . 
" We 've got to get to the Green tonight or else ... 
Them rozzers is gettin' too hot for comfort . 
We 'll have to lay low , or it 's curtains for us , mate ! " 
Sheila shivered . 
Had she jumped out of the frying pan into the fire ? 
A different voice , younger and nervous , began : 
" What if the ticket bloke remembers us ? 'Ow do you know 'e ai n't ringing the rozzers right now ? 
We 'll likely be met by ... " 
"Oh , stop your whinin' ! " interrupted the gruff voice . 
" We 'll be met all right . 
Fred 's meeting us with 'is car . 
There wo n't be any trouble unless you lose yer 'ead ... " 
The voice dropped menacingly . 
Sheila 's hazel eyes widened . 
She drew back into the corner , trying to make herself as small as possible . 
She listened to every movement that the men made , all her nerves alert . 
The slightest sign that they were coming her way and she would have to pretend to be asleep . 
As the train drew into another station , she realised , with thankfulness , that the next one was hers . 
She listened unwillingly , as Gruff Voice continued the conversation . 
" See what I mean ? 
Nobody there , either . 
The train 's deserted at this time of night . 
" Len and Busk got away . 
They 're making for the north . 
If they get picked up , they wo n't grass . 
They know better than that . " 
"What about Fred ? 
D'ye think he 's safe ? " 
"Fred ? " scoffed the gruff voice . 
" As safe as houses . 
If we make it worth his while , we can stop there for a week or so , then move on down to the coast . 
" Those blokes at the bank do n't know what hit 'em . 
They 'll never be able to recognise us . 
What are ye gon na do with your lolly ? " 
"Buy a car . 
Get some fun before it runs out . 
I like blondes best . 
Saw a smasher the other day . 
She would n't look at the likes of me , though , unless I 'd plenty of lolly to spend on her . " 
"You and your blondes ! " 
A coarse laugh drowned the other 's reply , and sent shivers down Sheila 's back . 
Surely they were nearly at her station by now ? 
How was she going to get out so that the men would n't realise she 'd heard them ? 
She knew just how dangerous her position was . 
That gruff voice had no mercy in it . 
WITH mixed feelings of relief , Sheila saw the lights of her station come into view . 
Very gently she slid out of her seat and round to the carriage door . 
She eased back the catch and held it steady as the train pulled up . 
She got out , and was beginning to close the door when she saw that the next one was opening , and a man 's startled face was gazing at her . 
In mounting panic , Sheila turned and fled down the deserted platform . 
Thudding feet started after her . 
She raced for the exit , her mind searching desperately for a way of escape . 
She 'd got to get to the police , somehow . 
There was no sign of a porter . 
Instead , a well-dressed , dependable-looking man stood near the exit . 
Sheila made up her mind quickly . 
" Please , please help me ! " she said urgently . 
" I 've just overheard two crooks on the train , and I must get to the police . 
I 'm sure they know I 've overheard them , and they 're coming after me . " 
The stranger looked at Sheila oddly for a moment , hesitated as though making up his mind , then propelled her out of the exit towards a waiting car . 
As he did , the two men burst out into the quiet street and pounded up to them . 
The stranger stood quietly , waiting for them . 
Then it dawned on Sheila who he was . 
" Fred ! " she gasped in horror . 
As Sheila tried to dodge past them , her heel caught in the pavement and she stumbled forward . 
She managed one cry for help before a hand closed over her mouth . 
A voice snarled in her ear , " Keep still , or else ... " 
Sheila was bundled into the car . 
There she sat , squashed between the two men , heart pounding wildly with fear . 
The younger man looked her over admiringly . 
Sheila shivered . 
" OK , Fred , " said the burly man . 
" Take it away . " 
Sheila stared at the silent man 's back . 
She 'd picked the wrong man . 
But how could you tell which man to trust and which to avoid ? 
She 'd gone for the nice face and clothes and she 'd been hopelessly wrong . 
First the Teddy boy ... the Teddy boy ! 
He 'd had a nice voice behind all that talk-gimmick . 
But she had n't given him a chance after the first sight of his clothes . 
Suddenly , there came a gleam of hope . 
He 'd said that he was going to Pulfern Green , her station . 
Had he got off here ? 
Could he have seen anything ? 
Would he act on it if he had ? 
Sheila looked back as the car turned out of the street , but saw no one . 
Nobody spoke . 
At last , Sheila could stand it no longer . 
" Where are you taking me ? " she burst out . 
" What are you going to do with me ? 
Please let me go . 
I wo n't say a word , I promise you . 
My mother 's waiting for me , and she 's alone and she 'll be so upset . 
Please let me go ! " 
"Well now , ai n't that a pity ? 
Her mummy 's waiting up for her . " 
Gruff Voice grinned nastily , then his voice altered cruelly . 
" You got yourself into this — nobody asked you to listen to our talk . 
You 've heard enough to get us put away , so you 've got to be put in a safe place . 
See ? " 
With the last word , he took her wrist and gave it a quick twist , making her gasp . 
" That 's just a little taste of what you 'll get if you try anything on , see ? " 
Sheila nodded , eyes blinking back the threatening tears , as she nursed her sore wrist . 
THE car drew up beside a large , detached house . 
Sheila was bundled out , propelled along a passage , and pushed into a room . 
" Yer stay there till we decide what to do with you ! " 
Gruff Voice growled . 
" And make no mistakes — if I hears a peep out of you , you 're for it ! " 
Then the key was turned in the lock and Sheila was alone . 
She gave way to tears of hopelessness . 
As the tears relieved her immediate tension , Sheila realised everything had gone quiet in the house . 
She supposed that they were having a meal — they certainly were n't bothering about her . 
As she sat there , she was suddenly aware of a tapping at the window . 
She went over . 
" Who is it ? " she said nervously . 
" Who — who 's there ? " 
She could only just make out the whispered reply , but it filled her with unbelievable hope . 
The voice said : 
" Have you been kidnapped ? " 
At her answer the unknown voice went on : 
" I was the chap who spoke to you at the main-line station , but you would n't have anything to do with me , remember ? 
I saw you being pushed into that car . 
You did n't look as if you went willingly , so I followed on my motor bike . 
Thought I 'd better find out for sure whether you needed help , before I went for the police . 
" I came round the back of the house wondering which room you were in , when I — I heard you cry . 
" I 'm going for the cops now , " the voice went on . 
" You wo n't be there much longer , if I can help it . 
Keep your chin up ! 
Be seeing you . " 
Sheila found herself shaking , without really knowing why . 
Rather than lose all control , she turned her thoughts to the young man who was proving such a friend in need . 
What a nice person he must be to help her after the way she had treated him at the station ! 
THEN at last Sheila heard the sound of a car outside . 
The sudden shrilling of the doorbell made her jump . 
Presently , she heard the footsteps of the men as they clattered downstairs . 
They held a whispered conversation outside her door , then the key turned in the lock and Gruff Voice and his accomplice entered . 
The younger man was plainly scared , and the older man was cursing under his breath . 
Sheila backed away from them and managed one scream before a scarf was thrust round her mouth . 
They heard the front door being opened and Fred 's voice asked , " Yes ? 
What is it ? 
You 've got me out of bed ! " 
Sheila 's pulses leaped as she recognised the Teddy boy 's voice . 
" Excuse me , but does Mr. Smith live here ? " 
What on earth was he playing at ? 
Did he think he could rescue her alone ? 
Fred 's innocently outraged voice began , "No , he does n't ! 
What 's the big idea ... " 
Then came a sudden crash as the front door was thrust violently open , and several deeper voices sounded . 
The gripping hands around Sheila tightened until she could barely breathe . 
As the door gave way before a brawny shoulder , she was thrown into a struggling mass of bodies . 
A fist aimed at somebody else caught her a glancing blow on the side of the head , and she fell backwards . 
Another pair of hands caught hold of her and began pulling her away from the fighting men . 
She struggled weakly until a remembered voice spoke urgently to her . 
" Do n't struggle ! 
It 's all right , now . 
I 've brought the police and it will soon be over . " 
A Present For General Calinga 
HE WAS BETRAYED — BY THE ONE MAN WHOSE LOYALTY HE HAD ALWAYS TAKEN FOR GRANTED 
THE President continued holding the telephone to his ear long after he knew beyond all doubt that the line had been cut . 
Then he gave a despairing little sigh , returned the now useless instrument to its cradle and sat staring with unseeing eyes at the wall opposite . 
A sudden outburst of machine-gun fire from outside the Palace caused him to shiver and rise from his chair . 
He began to walk quickly towards the door . 
But as he reached out to turn the handle the door opened and his aide , Major Pillar Juarez , entered . 
Juarez was a young man of the slim athletic type . 
Unlike most of the Air Force pilots his uniform was always immaculate , a fact which had commended itself to the President when he had first considered making him his personal aide . 
But now the major 's uniform had lost its immaculate look ; it was dusty and his right trouser leg had a large tear in it . 
" Excellency , " he said quietly before the President could speak , " you will have to leave . 
The rebels are closing in and the troops we have here can not hold out much longer . 
Santos has made the Palace — and you — his main objective . 
He is concentrating his forces here because once you are in his power , well , it 's all over . " 
The President swallowed . 
" Did you know the telephone line is cut ? 
Our position is hopeless . " 
"That is why you must leave here , Excellency . 
I have the helicopter standing by and I 'll take you down to La Plomas . 
General Calinga has the city completely under control . 
We 'll fight back from there , Excellency . 
Yes , with General Calinga behind you — " 
" I do n't know . " 
The President 's words broke in almost nervously . 
" About Calinga , I mean . " 
He shook his head . 
" No , I 'm not at all sure of him . " 
"But Calinga is loyal to you , Excellency . " 
"Maybe he is , maybe he is n't . " 
The President half closed his eyes , " I 've had my fill of bitter disappointments since this uprising , Juarez . 
So many people I 'd trusted have turned against me . " 
He lit himself a cigarette with a jerky movement . 
" You , Juarez , " he added , " are about the only one whose loyalty I can take for granted . " 
"You trust me implicitly , Excellency ? " 
The words came quickly , almost sharply . 
" I do , Juarez . " 
"But you are not absolutely certain of Calinga 's loyalty ? " 
"Not quite . 
His loyalty will depend on which way the wind is blowing . 
And at present — " 
" So , should Calinga have decided to throw in his lot with the rebels and I take you to La Plomas , well , I shall in effect be handing you over to Santos ? " 
The major 's words were more a statement of fact than a question . 
The President drew heavily on his cigarette . 
He nodded slowly at it . 
" So therefore you wo n't come with me ? " 
"No . " 
Major Pillar Juarez slowly undid the flap of his holster . 
He withdrew his revolver . 
He pointed it straight at the President . 
" The helicopter is all ready , " he said quietly and evenly . 
" You will fly to La Plomas in it . " 
The President stared . 
" Juarez , " he said huskily , " you seem particularly anxious to take me to Calinga . 
Suspiciously anxious , I would say . " 
Juarez tightened his grip on the gun . 
" You said you trusted me . " 
The President nodded . 
" I did . 
And I meant it . 
At the time . " 
He paused . 
" Now I 'm not so sure . 
I — " 
" All right , " cut in Juarez sharply , " my crew-men are already aboard . " 
He made a little movement with the revolver . 
" Come , we 'll go now . " 
As Juarez opened the door the President suddenly started biting at his lower lip . 
" The helicopter , " continued Juarez , " is standing in the interior gardens . " 
The President walked slowly out of the room ; his eyes were now blinking spasmodically . 
"WAS it necessary to tie me up like this ? " 
The President looked tired and old as he indicated his bound wrists . 
Juarez did not answer . 
He turned to his radio-operator . 
" I 'm dropping to a thousand feet , " he said . 
" Try to contact Santos now . " 
The President 's eyes filled with an ocean of contempt . 
" And to think I once gave you my trust , " he choked . 
" Much rather had I stayed at my Palace and — " He suddenly leaned forward and buried his face in his bound hands . 
He started sobbing silently to himself . 
For a moment Juarez contemplated the broken man beside him . 
He opened his mouth to say something but as he did so his radio-operator announced that he had contacted Santos . 
Juarez nodded . 
He took his microphone and started talking slowly , deliberately . 
After he had finished doing so he dropped the helicopter to five hundred feet . 
He banked slightly . 
When he saw three men leave a hut and walk out towards the middle of the field in front of it he dropped even lower . 
" That 's Santos , " pointed the radio-operator . 
" The one in the middle . " 
"Yes , I know . " 
Juarez made towards the group . 
He landed the helicopter about fifty yards away from the three men . 
He kept the rotor blades turning . 
" Right , " he said sharply to the President , " out you get . 
Santos is expecting you ! " 
He removed his gun from its holster . 
The President lifted his head . 
He glanced at the revolver and also at the carbines the radio-operator and Juarez 's other crew-men were holding . 
His eyes started blinking again . 
Then slowly he rose from his seat . 
He followed Juarez out of the machine like a man from whose body the last spark of life had all but departed . 
SANTOS could not contain himself any longer : when he saw his dejected enemy before him he started running towards the helicopter . 
He was shouting almost incoherently . 
It was then that the carbines opened up catching Santos 's two henchmen completely unawares ; they died instantly . 
At the same moment Juarez moved forward to the rebel leader . 
He put his gun close to the other 's stomach . 
He pulled the trigger five times . 
Now the two crew-men had dropped their carbines . 
They leaped out of the helicopter and unceremoniously tossed the dazed and bewildered President back into it . 
Then , while Juarez climbed frantically for the pilot 's seat , they also tossed aboard the dead body of the rebel leader . 
As the helicopter began to rise they regained their carbines and poured a stream of bullets at the shouting groups of men who were now running out towards the field . 
At two thousand feet Juarez set course for La Plomas . 
He smiled tightly as his radio-operator leaned over and cut the bonds on the President 's wrists . 
" Well , Excellency , " he said , "it was a long shot but — " 
"It was indeed a long shot , " interjected the President in a strangled voice . 
" A very long shot . " 
He swallowed . 
" But I am still bewildered . 
Why was it necessary to force me into this helicopter at gunpoint ? 
And why the bonds ? 
Why — " 
" Excellency , " said Major Pillar Juarez , " I had to force you into the helicopter because otherwise you would have stayed at your Palace . 
And died . 
Also , with the greatest respect , Excellency , you are a very poor actor ; you can not hide or disguise your emotions . 
So I had to make you actually believe I was handing you over to Santos . 
" No , Excellency , you could not have played the part you did ; it had to be , as far as you were concerned , only too horribly true . 
Otherwise it could not have succeeded . 
You did believe it — " 
" Yes . 
And I believed that you too had turned against me , Juarez . " 
The words were uttered as an apology as humble as it was sincere . 
Juarez smiled . 
" Yes , you had to believe that too , Excellency . " 
He altered course ten degrees to starboard . 
" La Plomas ahead , " he announced . 
" Now when we land and you show General Calinga the dead body of the rebel Santos , there is no doubt where his loyalty will be , is there ? " 
The President nodded and fell silent . 
About a minute later he said : " Juarez , I can never reward you enough . 
I — " 
" Excellency , " smiled Major Pillar Juarez , " I have a wish I hope you will grant . " 
"Name it . " 
The major 's smile widened . 
" A new uniform , Excellency . 
Hand-tailored in English cloth . " 
He glanced at the tear in his trouser leg . 
" I think I am almost entitled to that , Excellency . " 
The President laughed . 
It was the first time he had done so in over three weeks . 
It was a long laugh . 
A slightly hysterical laugh . 
THE FRIEND 
SANTAGO WAS A MAN TO BE TRUSTED ... 
HE COULD USE A SUB-MACHINE GUN 
CAPTAIN RAMON CORDORA 'S voice was loud . 
" Corporal Santago , " he shouted . 
" Where 's Corporal Santago ? " 
One of the privates looked up briefly from his cards . 
" Back there somewhere , " he grunted . 
Cordora opened his mouth again as if he were going to remonstrate with the private for his appalling lack of discipline but , thinking better of it , he moved off in search of Santago . 
He found him behind the hut cleaning his rifle . 
" Well , Corporal , " he smiled , "I 'm glad to see someone in your platoon cleans his weapons regularly ! " 
Santago did not answer until he had removed the piece of four-by-two from his pull-through . 
" I always used to clean my rifle regularly . " 
His voice was surly . 
" If you made an inspection now and then , you 'd know that I still do . " 
Cordora continued smiling . 
" Now , now , ca n't you take a little joke , my friend ? " 
Santago slowly raised his head . 
" Do n't you call me your friend , " he said . 
" The only friend you have is yourself . " 
The other 's smile remained fixed . 
" We were friends once upon a time . " 
"Yes , but that was long , long ago . " 
"Not so long ago . " 
The Captain paused . 
" It 's only six months since we were serving together under La Cruz . " 
Santago now began to examine the bolt of his rifle . 
" Yes , " he murmured , " we served together under him . 
As privates . 
Then along came Kassan . 
And with him in power what happened ? 
You became sergeant the very next day . " 
"Yes , " broke in Cordora , " but shortly after that I was able to get you promoted to corporal . " 
Santago lifted his head . 
" True . 
But you also got yourself promoted to lieutenant . 
Then a month later you became a captain . " 
He bent down once again and started cleaning his rifle bolt . 
" Yes , you were a good friend to yourself . 
But not to me . 
Any friend of mine would have made sure I got a bit higher than this . " 
His eyes flicked contemptuously to the rank badges on his right sleeve , then back again to his rifle bolt . 
Cordora switched his smile off and managed to look sympathetic . 
" I know how you must feel , " he said . 
" But it 's not so easy as you 'd think . 
I did my best for you but President Kassan has never forgotten that day over two years ago , when you let him have the butt of your rifle right across his face . " 
"I could n't help it , " muttered the other . 
" I was ordered to disperse the crowd and I was only doing my duty . 
How was I to know that one day he 'd be President ? " 
Captain Cordora made a little clicking sound with his teeth . 
" Well , nevertheless , he 's never forgotten it . 
And every time I 've brought up the subject of your commission , well , he has said no . 
In fact , it took me a great deal of persuading to even get you your corporal 's stripes , Santago , if the truth be told . " 
He paused and lowered his voice . 
" But now something 's come up which , if you do your bit , will maybe enable you to find favour in the President 's eyes . 
" For a start , he has given me authority to promote you to sergeant if all goes well . " 
Santago stopped cleaning the rifle bolt . 
" To sergeant ? " 
"Yes . 
Now , if he 's prepared to forgive you enough to agree to your promotion to sergeant , well , who knows ? 
Maybe sometime later he will forgive you completely and grant you a commission . " 
Cordora paused again . 
" Of course , all that is conjecture . 
You will have to carry out this special little job first and qualify yourself for promotion to sergeant before the officer question could even be considered . " 
Destination Danger By ERNEST HAYCOX ILLUSTRATED BY EDWIN PHILLIPS 
Bill wanted her to be his alone — despite her past . 
But first he had to settle a grudge 
THIS was one of those years when Apache smoke signals spiralled from the mountain tops , when many a ranch-house lay as a square of blackened ashes and the departure of a stage from Tonto started an adventure that had no certain ending . 
The stage , with its six horses , waited in Tonto 's town square . 
On the box was Happy Stewart , the reins between his fingers . 
John Strang rode shotgun guard . 
And an escort of 10 cavalrymen waited behind the coach , half asleep in their saddles . 
In the dawn , this high air was cold . 
A small crowd stood in the square , presenting their final messages to the passengers . 
There was a girl going to marry an infantry officer , a tall , thin Englishman carrying a sporting rifle , a gambler , a cattleman — and a slim blond man . 
Happy Stuart and the shotgun guard looked at him with narrow-eyed interest . 
This seemed all until a girl known commonly throughout Arizona Territory as Henriette walked from the crowd . 
She was small , with a touch of paleness in her cheeks . 
The blond man stepped back from the coach door and her eyes lifted at his unexpected courtesy . 
They showed faint surprise . 
Men in the crowd were smiling — derisively . 
But the blond man turned — the movement like the swift cut of a knife — and his sharp-bright attention covered them until the smiling quit . 
He was a lean man , and stamped as a gun-fighter by the Colts slung on his hip . 
But it was n't the guns alone . 
Something in his face , watchful and smooth , showed his trade , too . 
Happy Stuart kicked off the brakes and yelled : " Hi ! " 
The stage rolled from the town in a cloud of dust , the cavalrymen trotting briskly behind . 
Beyond them stretched the journey no coach had attempted for 45 days . 
Out below in the desert 's distance stood the relay stations they hoped to reach and pass . 
Between lay a country swept empty by the quick raids of Geronimo 's savages . 
The Englishman , the gambler and the blond man sat jammed together in the forward seat . 
The cattleman and the two women shared the rear seat . 
NOW the cattleman leaned towards Henriette , his knees almost touching her . 
A huge gold nugget slid gently back and forth along the gold watch chain slung across his wide chest . 
His eyes looked into hers , reading something that caused him to smile . 
They were strangers packed closely together with nothing in common save a destination . 
Yet the cattleman 's smile and the boldness of his glance was something as audible as speech , noted by everyone except the Englishman , who sat bolt upright in the corner , covered by stony indifference . 
The army girl , tall and demurely pretty , threw a quick side-glance at Henriette , then looked away with a touch of colour . 
Three hours from Tonto the road , making a last round sweep , let them down into the flat desert . 
From now on they would be on their own . 
The cavalrymen wheeled back to town , their sergeant yelling , doubtfully : " Good luck . " 
The miles fell behind and the smell of alkali dust got thicker . 
Up on the box , Johnny Strang shifted the gun on his lap . 
" What 's Malpais Bill — the blond one — riding with us for ? " 
"I guess I would n't ask him , " Happy Stuart replied , — and studied the hazy horizon . 
All day they were tormented by a cruel , relentless sun . 
Now as the coach trundled to a stop outside Gap Station , they were red-eyed and aching from the stinging dust . 
A short man with a tremendous stomach shuffled through the dusk . 
He said : " Was n't sure you 'd get through , Happy . " 
"Where 's the soldiers for tomorrow ? " 
"Other side of the mountains . 
Everybody 's chased out . 
What ai n't forted up here was sent into Lordsburg . " 
He looked first at the army girl , then appraised Henriette instantly . 
His eyes slid on to Malpais Bill standing in the background . 
Recognition stirred him then and made his voice careful . 
" Hello , Bill . 
What brings you this way ? " 
Malpais Bill 's cigarette glowed in the gathering dusk and Henriette caught the brief image of his face , serene and watchful . 
Malpais Bill 's tone was easy , it was soft . 
" Just the trip . " 
They were moving on towards the frame house . 
As the army girl walked into the station 's big room , a soldier in a dishevelled uniform stepped forward . 
He said : " Miss Robertson ? 
Lieutenant Hauser was to have met you here . 
He is at Lordsburg . 
He was wounded in a brush with the Apaches last night . " 
The girl stood very still . 
She said : " Badly ? " 
"Well , yes , " said the soldier . 
Henriette 's dove-coloured dress blended with the background shadows . 
She was watching the other girl 's face whiten . 
But there was a strength in the army girl , a fortitude that made her think of the soldier . 
For she said quietly : " You must have had a bad trip . " 
"Nothing — nothing at all , " said the soldier . 
As the trooper left the room , the gambler turned to the army girl with an odd expression , as though he were remembering painful things . 
After dinner , Malpais Bill lounged , cigarette in hand , in the yard . 
The moonlight was a frozen silver that could not dissolve the desert 's incredible blackness . 
AS Henriette walked towards him from the Tonto road , her face was clear and strange and incurious in the night . 
He said : " Apaches like to crawl down next to a settlement and wait for strays . " 
She was indifferent , unafraid . 
Her voice was cool , and he could hear the faint loneliness in it , the fatalism that made her words so even . 
" There 's a wind coming up , so soft and good . " 
He took off his hat , long legs braced and his eyes quick and puzzled in their watchfulness . 
His blond hair glowed in the fugitive light . 
His lips were restless and the sing and rush of strong feeling was like a current of quick wind around him . 
It was that unruly . 
" You have folks in Lordsburg ? " 
SHE spoke in a direct patient way as though explaining something he should have known without asking . 
" I run a house in Lordsburg . " 
"No , " he said , " it was n't what I asked . " 
"My folks are dead — I think . 
There was a massacre in the Superstition Mountains when I was a baby . " 
He stood with his head bowed . 
There was a hardness and a rawness to this land and little sympathy for the weak . 
She had survived , and had paid for her survival and she looked at him now in a way that offered no explanation or apologies . 
He said : " Over in the Tonto Basin it 's fine land . 
I still have a piece of a ranch there — with a house half built . " 
"If that 's your country , why are you here ? " 
His lips laughed and the rashness in him glowed hot again and he seemed to grow taller in the moonlight . 
" A debt to collect . " 
"You will never get through collecting those kind of debts . 
Everybody in the Territory knows you . 
" Once you were just a rancher . 
Then you tried to wipe out a grudge and then there was a bigger one to wipe out — and the debt kept growing and more men are waiting to kill you . 
Some day a man will . 
Run away from the debts . " 
His bright smile kept constant , which made her shoulders lift in resignation . 
" No , " she murmured . 
" You wo n't run . " 
He said : " We 'd better go back , " and they went across the yard in silence . 
She turned to look at him once more and then passed down the narrow corridor to her own quarters . 
Beyond her window in the yard , a man was murmuring to another man : " Plummer and Shanley are in Lordsburg . 
Malpais Bill knows it . " 
Through the thin partition of the adjoining room she heard the army girl crying with uncontrollable regularity . 
Henriette stared at the dark wall , her shoulders and head bowed . 
Then she returned to the hall , knocked on the army girl 's door and went in . 
It was morning . 
Six fresh horses fidgeted in front of the coach and the fat host of Gap Station came across the yard swinging a lantern against the dead , bitter black . 
All the passengers filed sleep-dulled and miserable from the house . 
The Gap host grumbled : " If they do n't jump you before you get to Al 's ranch , you 'll be all right . " 
It was noon when Henriette caught the smell of smoke in the windless air . 
Looking through the angled vista of the window panel she saw a clay and rock chimney standing up like a gaunt skeleton against the day 's light . 
The house that had been there was a black square on the ground , smoke still rising from pieces that had not been completely burned . 
The stage stopped and all the men were instantly out . 
An iron stove squatted on the earth , with one section of pipe stuck upright to it . 
Fire licked lazily along the collapsed fragments of what had been a trunk . 
Beyond the house lay two nude figures grotesquely bald , with deliberate knife-slashes marking their bodies . 
Happy Stuart walked over and returned quickly . 
" Al and his wife . " 
Malpais Bill knew now that they had a battle ahead . 
With Happy and the shotgun guard he clambered on to the coach roof — ready for the fight . 
Back on the coach , the gambler said to the army girl : " You 're pretty safe between two fellows . " 
He hauled a .44 from a back pocket and laid it on his lap . 
The Englishman pulled the rifle from between his knees and laid it across the sill of the window . 
The cattleman swept back his coat to clear the gun holster . 
Henriette sat with her eyes pinned to the gloved tips of her fingers , remembering the tall shape of Malpais Bill cut against the moonlight of Gap Station . 
He had smiled at her as a man might smile at any desirable woman , with the sweep and swing of laughter in his voice . 
His eyes had been gentle . 
The gambler spoke very quietly and she did n't hear him until his fingers gripped her arm . 
He said again , not raising his voice : " Get down . " 
HENRIETTE dropped to her knees , hearing gunfire blast through the rush and run of the coach . 
Happy Stuart ceased to yell and the army girl 's eyes were round and dark , yet showing no fright . 
Looking upward through the window on the gambler 's side , Henriette saw the weaving figure of an Apache warrior reel nakedly on a pony and rush by with a rifle raised and pointed in his bony elbows . 
The gambler took a cool aim . 
The stockman fired and aimed again . 
The Englishman 's sporting rifle blasted heavy echoes through the coach , hurting her ears , and the smell of powder got rank and bitter . 
The blond man 's boots scraped the coach top and round small holes began to dimple the panelling as the Apaches ' bullets struck . 
An Indian came boldly abreast the coach and made a target that could n't be missed . 
The cattleman dropped him with one shot . 
The coach hubs screamed as its wheels slewed around the sharp ruts and the whole heavy superstructure bounced high in the air . 
The gambler said , quietly : " You 'd better take this , " handing Henriette his gun . 
He leaned against the door , with his small hands gripping the sill . 
Pallor loosened the cheeks . 
He said , to the army girl : " Be sure to keep between those gentlemen . " 
He slumped on to the window sill . 
They were rolling down the mountain without brake . 
Gunfire fell off and the crying of the Indians faded back . 
Coming up from her knees then , she saw the desert 's flat surface far below , with the angular pattern of Lordsburg vaguely on the far borders of the heat fog . 
WITH a roar , Happy Stuart 's voice lifted again and brakes were screaming on the wheels , and going off , and screaming again . 
The Englishman stared out of the window sullenly . 
The army girl seemed in a deep desperate dream . 
The cattleman 's face was shining with a strange sweat . 
AT THAT MAN 'S MERCY 
As Jenny lifted the receiver , an arm suddenly came over her shoulder and a hairy hand gripped her wrist . 
NOTHING WARNED JENNY THAT THE PEACE AND QUIET OF HER LIFE WAS TO BE SHATTERED . 
JENNY put the last of the dishes in the cupboard , and then walked back into the living-room . 
She wished Ian were back . 
The house always seemed very still and quiet when he was away and he would not be home until late . 
Tonight Jenny felt uneasy . 
That announcement on the radio about a man who had escaped from the mental institution in a neighbouring town had disturbed her . 
She stood looking out of the wide bay-window on to the garden . 
The great copper beech cast a lacework of moving shadows across the smooth , sunlit lawn , and in its whispering branches two magpies quarrelled noisily . 
As far as the eye could see there was nothing but trees , and , in the distance , the bleak moors , so beautiful , peaceful and isolated . 
That was just what she and Ian liked , but not when there was a maniac at large . 
Jenny sat down on the settee and picked up the paper , trying to keep calm . 
After all , there was no reason why he should come here . 
The road past their house led only to a small secluded bay a mile or two further on . 
The reason for his escaping from the asylum was presumably to get as far away from confinement as possible , in which case he would naturally go in the opposite direction . 
Her fears somewhat lulled , she began to read . 
The radio was on and she could hear the baby upstairs whimper in his sleep . 
The clock was striking six when a loud knock on the door made her start . 
Slowly she lowered the newspaper . 
She was n't expecting anyone . 
Oh , yes , her young sister , Betty , had said she might call . 
She got up and went to the front door . 
As she opened it , a good-looking man wearing a grey suit , pushed past her into the hall . 
She turned on him indignantly , but before she could protest , he leaned over her shoulder and shut the door . 
Her mouth went dry . 
A large hand gripped her arm and turned her towards the living-room . 
" Go on , " the voice said metallically , and the protest died on her lips as she obeyed . 
She walked over to the settee , and then turned and smiled nervously . 
" Wo n't you sit down ? " she asked , her throat constricted . 
" Food , have you any food ? " he growled , and there was a strange glint in his eye as he looked her up and down . 
She swallowed hard , her fingers fumbling nervously with her wedding ring . 
" I have n't got much — my husband 's supper — " 
Her voice trailed away . 
At the mention of Ian , the stranger half-rose , his eyes wary . 
" Your husband , where is he ? " 
"He 'll be back soon . " 
"Give me food . " 
His eyes were fixed on her , and , try as she might , she could not take her own away . 
There was something almost hypnotic about those eyes , and yet something lonely — a loneliness of the spirit that was terrifying , as though his mind were far beyond reality . 
Suddenly she remembered the announcer on the radio . 
He had warned anyone who met this man not to provoke him in any way . 
The slightest disagreement could send him into an uncontrollable rage . 
He began to rise slowly from the table . 
" Yes , yes , I 'll get you some food now , " she said hastily . 
Her hand found the door handle and she slipped out . 
In the small alcove by the kitchen , her eyes fell on the telephone . 
She paused , looking at it longingly , but a sixth sense made her glance over her shoulder . 
He was standing in the doorway . 
Threateningly , he began to walk towards her . 
She stooped to pick up her handkerchief , and went on into the kitchen . 
As she opened the pantry door , he was there behind her . 
She put bread on the table , and took the butter and a cold veal and ham pie from the refrigerator . 
He stood in the middle of the room , watching her every move . 
Putting the food on a tray , she cut a piece of apple tart , and carried it all into the living-room . 
Again , he followed close behind her . 
He sat down at the table and she placed the tray in front of him . 
Ignoring the knife and fork , he picked up the meat pie , and , breaking it in two , began to eat . 
Jenny could feel her hands trembling , and when the man coughed , her hand jerked , and the sauce bottle lay on its side . 
A brown stain slowly spread over the cloth . 
Her hand went out to pick up the fallen bottle — and froze . 
She saw him stop chewing . 
His eyes were fixed on the spilling sauce . 
Then he raised his head and she shrank back . 
He had the expression of a wild cat that had been disturbed at its meal . 
" Sorry , that was silly of me , " she said , forcing a laugh . 
Then she got up and moved towards the door . 
" Where are you going ? 
Come back . " 
The voice was like a whip-lash . 
She closed her eyes and swayed slightly . 
" I — I 'm going to make you a cup of tea , " she explained shakily . 
" You 'd like a drink ? " 
"Beer . " 
She left the door half-open , and , walking quietly , reached the alcove . 
If she could only dial 999 . 
Jenny glanced over her shoulder . 
The door was still ajar and there was no sound , except when his hand touched the cutlery . 
Reaching out , she took hold of the receiver , and raised her left hand to the dial . 
She was breathing with difficulty , and her legs felt unsteady . 
As she lifted the receiver , an arm came over her shoulder and a hairy hand gripped her wrist . 
Her heart leaped and the blood pounded in her ears . 
For a moment , she was paralysed with fear . 
Then slowly she turned and looked up into his face . 
She hardly recognised it . 
It was very flushed , and seemed to have grown larger . 
The mouth was slightly open , and jerked spasmodically at one corner . 
HER breath came in gasps as she ran her tongue over her dry lips . 
Suddenly his grip tightened and , with a gasp of pain , Jenny dropped the receiver . 
He stood , still holding her wrist . 
" I was just going to ring the doctor to see if he was calling tomorrow . 
The baby is n't too well . " 
"You 're not ringing any doctor , " he said thickly . 
" All right then . 
Come with me , and we 'll get that bottle of beer . " 
She smiled at him hopefully , and he released her wrist . 
Jenny took a few tentative steps forward , and then waited , her heart pounding . 
Glancing out of the corner of her eye , she saw him following . 
Slowly , she went into the kitchen and took a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator . 
Back in the living-room , he stood by the table as she opened the bottle and poured out the drink . 
She held the glass out to him . 
" Come on , drink it . 
You 'll feel better . " 
He took the glass , looking suspiciously at it and then at her . 
" What d' you mean , " feel better " ? " he growled . 
" There 's nothing wrong with me . " 
Jenny smiled placatingly . 
" No , of course not , " she soothed , " but you said you were very thirsty . 
It 's a good brand . 
My husband 's very fond of it . " 
He looked at the label . 
" I know it 's good . 
I can see , ca n't I ? " 
"Yes , yes , of course . 
I — I did n't mean to be rude . " 
"I did n't say you were rude . " 
His eyes were beginning to glaze over . 
" What 's the matter ? 
You think I 'm mad , do n't you ? " 
"No — no . 
Why should I ? 
Look , drink up . 
Have a cigarette . " 
She offered him the packet . 
He took one and examined it , his thick fingers turning it over and over . 
He sniffed it , his brows drawn together in concentration . 
Jenny lit hers and watched him in amazement . 
Why all this fuss over an ordinary cigarette ? 
She flicked her lighter and held it out . 
He took hold of her wrist , bringing the flame to the cigarette . 
As he puffed , his hands gripped her more tightly . 
His eyes met hers through the thin veil of smoke . 
Her heart pounded and she closed her eyes . 
That wild look of animal desire — and he was mad . 
She felt utterly weary . 
Gently she pulled her arm away . 
" Oh , God , please help me , " she prayed inwardly . 
" I ca n't stand much more of this . " 
The baby upstairs began to cry loudly , giving great hiccoughing sobs . 
Then his voice rose to a scream . 
Jenny whipped round and raced for the door , but the man caught her arm . 
" Where are you going ? " he demanded . 
His face was fierce and ugly . 
" My baby 's ill . 
I must see to him . " 
She glared at him , fear forgotten because her little son needed her . 
" Let me go . " 
"Come here . 
I want you . " 
She took one look at his face , now a deep red , the veins bulging on his forehead , his madness plain to see . 
With a desperate effort she wrenched her arm away and dashed into the hall . 
She heard him shout , and start to lumber after her . 
With fear as the spur , she leapt up the stairs , the madman at her heels . 
She paused for a split second , and then seizing a large Chinese vase that stood at the turn of the stairs , she pulled it over and sent it rolling down . 
It caught him across the thighs , and man and vase crashed in a heap at the foot of the stairs . 
Not waiting to see the results , Jenny dived for the bedroom and slammed the door , turning the key . 
Gasping , she leaned back against the door . 
Looking wildly around the room , her eye fell on the chest of drawers . 
It was heavy and made of oak . 
She went across and slowly began to push it over the floor . 
Hearing the noise , the baby stopped crying . 
At last the chest was in position . 
Panting , she pushed her hair off her forehead and went over to the baby 's cot . 
She lifted him and laid him on the bed . 
Then , picking up the cot , she carried it into the small ante-room which led off the main bedroom . 
There was no other way in , except through the bedroom . 
She collected the baby and laid him down in the cot . 
Then she drew the curtains , and , going back into the bedroom , closed the door . 
THERE was the muffled sound of scrambling on the stairs . 
He was coming up again . 
She eyed the oak chest . 
That should hold him off , at least for a time . 
She went to the extension phone by the bed , and , with trembling hands , dialled 999 . 
Soon she was blurting out all the essential details to the police . 
As she replaced the receiver , Jenny noticed the house was completely silent again . 
Where was he now ? 
She went as near to the door as she could and listened intently — not a sound . 
She slipped back to the bed and sat down weakly . 
Taking her cigarettes out of her pocket , she lit one . 
Inhaling deeply , she let her head fall forward . 
Suddenly she jerked upright . 
That was the side door that had creaked . 
He had been outside , but for what ? 
Then nightmare visions of things she had read in the papers flooded back to her — of people being axed to death ! 
Only last week , Ian had bought a new axe . 
She could picture its gleaming head now . 
She darted over to the window , and gazed vainly in all directions . 
There was not a sight or sound of anyone — only the sun-dappled lawn and the whispering trees . 
Peace was everywhere . 
She smiled bitterly . 
Her heart leaped at the sound of an approaching car . 
Running to the window Jenny saw it sweep round the bend and pass straight on , heading for the cove . 
Again there was that awful silence — silence except for the sound of a man with an axe , who began to stumble up the stairs . 
Continuing Reveille 's exciting serial VICE KING 'S SWEETHEART HIDE-AND-SEEK WITH A KILLER by Douglas Enefer 
A glance in the driving mirror told me I was being tailed by another car . 
I knew the man at the wheel . 
His name was Ugo Caramello . 
I had met him a few days earlier — after I had found lovely Anna Pavone dead in Rome 's famous Fountain of Trevi . 
He had been with Anna 's sister , Adriana , when I went to tell her the news . 
Adriana had denied that her sister was dead . 
And Ugo had threatened me . 
Events moved rapidly after that . 
I had run across New York vice-boss Frank Delgarra in Rome in the company of a call-girl , Gina Vanoni . 
A few hours later I found Gina murdered — and Adriana left for New York to collect an oil fortune she should have shared with her sister . 
Helping her to collect would be her fiance , business tycoon Lance Mallory . 
I followed . 
I talked to Adriana in her penthouse suite . 
She told me her sister had died — in a car crash . 
Her eyes and lips had been inviting . 
But I had snubbed her and stalked out . 
Now watchdog Ugo was following me . 
And he had a gun in his hand . 
I WAS still being tailed by Ugo Caramello in his blue Chev when I drove downtown through Columbus-circle . 
He was still keeping the sort of distance he figured necessary for me not to know I was being followed . 
But I had seen him . 
At Times-square I made a sharp left turn and went down Eighth-avenue as fast as the traffic would allow . 
I had not shaken him off , but I was widening the gap . 
Then I slewed into Greenwich-avenue and twisted and turned in the little side streets with their curio shops and outdoor art shows west of Washington-square . 
When I finally ran the car into a narrow alley I knew I had Caramello beat . 
I got out , walked to the mouth of the alley and stood back under a shop awning waiting for him . 
Three minutes later the blue Chev poked its nose into the street . 
Ugo had his dark glasses off now and was peering around . 
His dark Sicilian face was savage with annoyance . 
He killed the car engine , stepped out and dodged into a corner drugstore across the street . 
I waited for a second , then drifted over the street and pushed the drug-store doors open . 
Inside four teenage kids , two boys and two girls , were drinking cokes and chattering . 
THE counterman , a hefty lad with the shoulders of a quarter-back , was polishing glasses with quick , deft movements . 
In the middle of the store a middle-aged guy with waxed moustaches was reading as much of a magazine as you can do without buying the thing . 
No sign of Signor Ugo Caramello . 
Then I saw the telephone booth . 
I strolled down to the end of the long counter and pushed my ear against the side without glass . 
I could just hear Ugo 's voice . 
It seemed a bit agitated . 
" Is that Plaza 6-1079 , please ? " 
A pause , then : " Who is speaking , please ? " 
Again a pause . 
{ 3 " This is Caramello . 
I follow him but he disappear in the traffic . " 
Another pause . 
" No , I do not know where he went . 
I — oh , damn . " 
I heard the phone slam back on its rest and went fast into the street and across to my car . 
I sat in it until Caramello came out and drove off . 
Then I went back into the drugstore . 
The counterhand eyed me coldly . 
" You want something , mister ? " 
I bought a pack of cigarettes , shut myself in the telephone booth and dialled Plaza 6-1079 . 
" Mr. Lance Mallory 's residence , " said a voice . 
I let the receiver slide down on its cradle and went back to my car with a head full of thoughts — none of which started to make sense . 
I drove home . 
Lesley , the brown-haired girl who operates the switchboard in my apartment block , looked up pertly as I came in . 
" Did you have a nice time in Rome , Mr. Power ? " 
"Swell . " 
"You 've a good tan , but otherwise you do n't look like a man fresh back from sunny Italy , " she said critically . 
" And why are n't you at the office ? " 
"I 've two more days ' leave before I check in , " I told her . 
GOING up to the little railing which protects her from the harsh world , I leaned over and kissed the top of her head . 
" I 've been counting the hours to that , " she said . 
" Put your face up and I 'll do better , " I said recklessly . 
Her smooth oval face came up directly . 
Her mouth was warm and a little moist and not immobile . 
Finally she moved away from me and said , briskly : " A telephone message came for you while you were out . 
From a Miss Adriana Pavone . " 
She eyed me mockingly . 
" So they even follow you from Italy , do they ? " 
"Oh , sure — I see them in rotation , " I said . 
" What did Miss Pavone want ? " 
Lesley tapped her small teeth with a newly-pointed pencil . 
" She said she wanted to speak to you rather urgently , but as you were n't in she would send a written message . 
About a half-hour later this came . " 
She handed me a small , pale-blue envelope . 
" Thanks , Lesley . " 
I had started for the elevator when she asked innocently : " Are n't you going to open it , Mr. Power ? " 
I grinned . 
" Yeah — where you ca n't watch my emotional reactions . " 
I went up to my apartment and read the letter . 
I did n't know quite what I had expected — if I had expected anything in particular — but what it said shook me . 
Dear John — I was very distressed when you left me with those dreadful words . 
I simply do not know what I can do to convince you how wrong you are . 
But I shall never have the opportunity — because tonight I am flying back to Rome . 
I have been uncertain for some time about my engagement to Mr. Mallory and today I decided not to marry . 
I have explained this to him and I think he understands — better , I am afraid , than you understand me . 
So it is goodbye — Adriana Pavone . 
I dropped the letter on my desk and rammed tobacco into the biggest pipe I have . 
The hell with Adriana Pavone ! 
If she wanted to skip back to Rome — let her . 
I did n't give a damn . 
JUST the same , I found myself picking up the letter and reading it again . 
So she was n't marrying Mallory . 
Maybe she wanted old man Power ? 
Maybe she did n't care about either of us ? 
Maybe she did n't care about New York once she had latched on to that five-million-dollar pay-off ? 
The thoughts jostled through my mind — and came to a sudden stop . 
She could not hope to conclude a deal like that in a couple of days , could she ? 
She was just stalling . 
" I 'm flying back to Rome , my sweet , so you do n't any longer need to poke your goddam nose into my affairs ... " 
That could be it . 
I grabbed the telephone and got through to the air terminal . 
" Is there a reservation on the night flight to Rome in the name of Signorina Adriana Pavone ? " 
I asked . 
" I have to contact her before she checks in . " 
A girl clerk answered : " Wait a minute , sir . 
I 'll find out . " 
There was a long pause . 
I dragged pipe smoke in coughing clouds . 
Then the line came alive again . 
" Sorry , sir . 
We have no reservation in that name . " 
"The morning flight tomorrow , then ? " 
"I 've looked , sir . 
No one of that name is booked to Rome . " 
"Thanks , " I said thickly . 
FIFTEEN minutes later I was driving north again . 
The commissionaire was n't on hand at the plushy hotel where Adriana was staying , so I rode myself straight up to the penthouse suite . 
The door was locked . 
I banged on it three times . 
That made it open about a foot and a face came into slit view — a thin , faintly yellowed face with eyes like deadly sins and shining crinkly hair . 
He was around twenty-five years old and looked like a Filipino houseboy . 
Before , I had not noticed that she had one . 
" Miss Adriana Pavone , " I said . 
" John Power calling . " 
He twisted a wide mouthful of teeth into a grin . 
{ 3 " Miss Pavone not in , sir . " 
"You know where she 's gone ? " 
{ 3 " No sir . 
But no come back . " 
The grin had died but the eyes were alert . 
Too alert . 
" I have n't seen you here before , have I ? " 
I put a foot in the door as I said it . 
He looked down at the foot and smiled a long slow smile . 
{ 3 " If you are friend of hers , I tell , " he said . 
" Miss Pavone left just now with all her baggage . 
She fly back to Rome , sir . " 
"On the night flight ? " 
He started to nod , then checked himself . 
But he was too late . 
" The night flight does n't take off until eleven-thirty , " I said . 
" She has some shopping to do first , I think . " 
His eyes were snapping at me now . 
A tiny globule of saliva pooled on the left side of his mouth . 
I swung my shoulder against the door . 
He reeled back , his arms flailing . 
I went in . 
" You 're lying , Flip . 
Where 's she gone — and why ? " 
He backed warily from me , going across the hallway towards the wide lounge . 
Then , without warning , he lunged . 
Something long and blue and shining had slid down his sleeve into his right hand . 
I hit him on the point of the jaw with everything I had . 
For a second he seemed to hang , suspended in mid air . 
Then he zoomed backwards , hit the floor and rolled over . 
But he was not done . 
He came face-upwards on the roll , his wrist angled for a knife-throw . 
I trod savagely on his wrist and ground it until he screamed his agony . 
The flick-knife jumped out of his hand , clattering over the floor . 
I reached down , hooked him up by his collar , and hit him one more time in the mouth . 
I felt a couple of his teeth crack . 
HE sat sprawled on a large sofa , his mouth full of blood and his eyes full of death . 
I felt inside his jacket and down the outside of his pants . 
He was not wearing artillery . 
" All right — talk , " I barked . 
He dragged a handkerchief from his breast-pocket and dabbed at his mouth . 
I took the gun from under my arm , the big Luger I thought I had not needed in Rome . 
" You can go into the bathroom and fix your mouth , " I said . 
He stood up soundlessly and speechlessly and glided across the hallway and through a door . 
I went in after him and watched while he got the dislodged teeth out of his face . 
" All right , " I said again , " tell it . " 
He smiled wolfishly , but no words came . 
" I could beat it out of you , Flip , " I said , " but I have n't the time and I have n't sadistic instincts . 
" On the other hand , I could drag you down to police headquarters and the boys could stand you under the lights . " 
He swayed against the wash-basin , killing me with his eyes . 
I shrugged . 
" I have n't the time for that , either . 
You stay tied up in the locked bathroom until I get back — with a gag in your mouth . 
And if it 's damned uncomfortable I 'm not going to shed tears . " 
I turned the lock and went into the big lounge . 
I dropped the key on to Adriana 's writing desk . 
Something was on it . 
A piece of paper , pale blue , like that she had used to write to me . 
It had writing on it , too : 
Dear John — I was very distressed when you left me with those dreadful words . 
I simply do not know what I can do to convince you how wrong you are , but I would like — 
There was no more . 
Just a letter she had begun and then started again on another sheet . 
Pushed against the back of the desk top was a newspaper , folded down on black headlines which read : 
FRANK DELGARRA , BACK FROM ROME , TALKS OF BIG DEAL . 
Durieux unbuttoned the right breast pocket of his parachute smock , his fingers fumbling with the stiffness of the new canvas . 
" This is my party card , " he said , holding it high , that all might see it . 
" I am more proud of this card than of this badge . " 
When he said this , Durieux tapped the silver-nickel badge that was pinned to the flap of his right breast pocket . 
The badge consisted of an opened parachute flanked by wings . 
Cynics said the wings had been added to remind the wearer that he might one day have need of them , for parachute-packing is not an exact science , and parachute packers have been known to err . 
The badge meant that Durieux 's parachute had six times successfully responded to his pull at the ripcord , with himself dangling from the rigging lines , fluttering to earth like an autumn leaf discarded from the military tree . 
" Is it a real party card ? " asked Rossi . 
" It 's not like any party card that I ever saw . 
I 'll bet it 's a forgery . " 
"See for yourself , " shouted Durieux , thrusting the card close to the Corsican 's face . 
Rossi spat very deliberately , and very messily , upon Durieux 's party card . 
The other paras , who had guessed what was to come , shouted with laughter . 
" I 'm going to make you lick that card clean , " said Durieux . 
He reached down for the nape of Rossi 's neck with his left hand . 
His intention was to force the Corsican 's nose into the spittle . 
But Rossi jerked Durieux 's heels from beneath him . 
Durieux pitched forward , falling over Rossi . 
Durieux could have clutched at Rossi to save himself , but he still held on to the party card and would not let it go . 
The restraining hands of two paras , one at either side of Rossi , were all that saved Durieux from falling into the fire . 
One of the paras who held Durieux spun him roughly about , so that he stumbled away from the fire . 
His first concern was for the party card . 
It was scorched — as were the fingers that held it — and Rossi 's spittle was bubbling on the cardboard . 
Durieux wiped the card clean , using great care , with his handkerchief . 
He placed the card back in his breast pocket and buttoned it beneath the parachute badge . 
Only then did he return to Rossi , who was still lying beside the fire . 
" Now you wo n't be able to make me lick it off , " said Rossi . 
" I 'll do better than that , " promised Durieux . 
" Get up , Rossi . " 
"Enchanted by the invitation , comrade Durieux . " 
Rossi arose with the muscular tension of a caged leopard at feeding time . 
Durieux almost regretted having issued the invitation . 
Rossi was tall , but he did not tower above Durieux ; he was broad , yet not significantly wider than Durieux ; but he was unmistakably the more aggressive . 
Looking at Rossi , Durieux could not believe that his opponent possessed the fighting instincts of a mere man : it was as though the Corsican belonged spiritually to another species . 
The leopard-skin pattern upon his parachute smock might have been an outward expression of his character . 
Yet Durieux was no coward , nor was he easily intimidated . 
So he fired his right fist into Rossi 's face and caught the Corsican on the mouth . 
His knuckles made a wooden sound against Rossi 's teeth . 
Rossi rode the blow , swaying back from the hips upon which his hands still rested , but his lips split like an over-ripe tomato . 
Blood flowed from them and ran down his chin like wine . 
Rossi ran his tongue over the blood : he seemed to savour the taste ; he was smiling . 
Then Rossi struck Durieux a terrible blow that landed midway between crutch and waist . 
Durieux had never been hit so hard before , though he had become an amateur boxer in his student days in order to gain popularity and engender self-confidence . 
But he had never even imagined that it was possible to be hit so hard . 
The blow took all pleasure out of anger , out of fighting , out of life itself . 
Durieux 's head went down until it was level with his knees . 
He folded up so fast that Rossi 's second blow — a right cross — landed on his temple . 
Instead of breaking Durieux 's jaw , as Rossi had intended it should , the blow split his scalp . 
He was felled to the ground as a bullock is felled by a humane killer . 
His head suddenly became enormous and empty : the echoes of the blow rang through his brain like the angelus bell in a church tower . 
He felt the blood move stickily from his split scalp and trickle down his forehead . 
He felt as though all feelings were at an end . 
Then Durieux realized that he was still capable of having such primitive feeling as pain . 
He could still hear , despite the sounding in his ears , despite the lights behind his eyes , despite the knotted cramp of his intestines . 
And Durieux became intensely relieved that he could still experience these things . 
If he hits me like that again , thought Durieux , he will undoubtedly kill me . 
If by chance he does not kill me I shall be crippled for life . 
Even if he fails to kill or cripple me I shall be permanently disfigured . 
None of these things is going to help propagate Marxist-Leninist doctrines . 
Therefore , Durieux continued when he could hear himself thinking , I must somehow save myself . 
The best thing I can do is lie still and let him think that he has knocked me out . 
If everyone believes that Rossi has knocked me out they will not expect me to get up and fight him again . 
The fight is over . 
Even the best boxers get themselves knocked out , especially by a lucky blow . 
There is no dishonour in that . 
I struck the first blow . 
I have shown them all that I am not afraid of Rossi . 
I was disabled by a foul blow and knocked out by a lucky blow . 
It was almost an accident . 
I have now earned my place by the fire . 
I believe that I really must have been knocked out . 
I am only just coming to my senses . 
That is why I am only now able to think clearly . 
I was knocked out , but I bear Rossi no ill-will . 
The fight is finished . 
" He 's shamming , " said Rossi . 
" He 's shagged , " said someone . 
" Balls , " said Rossi . 
" I was playing with him . 
I only used my fists . 
I want to have some fun out of this fight . 
It 's a long time since I fought a Viet . " 
"He is n't a Viet , " said someone else . 
" He 's only a commie . " 
"Viet or commie , " said Rossi , " I 'm going to beat the crap out of him . 
I 'll teach the depot to send us commies . " 
"They probably did n't know he was a commie , " said someone else . 
" You know how the bastards infiltrate . " 
"They 'll know he 's a commie when I 've finished with him , " said Rossi . 
Durieux felt a sudden pain in his side ; and he was flung over on his back . 
The kick had landed sickeningly just below his ribs . 
Durieux was relieved that Rossi was wearing rubber-soled jumping boots and not the steel-tipped infantry issue . 
" Do n't kick him , " said a voice , Marechal 's voice . 
" He 's a subversive , " said Rossi . 
" I could kick him to death and get congratulated for it . 
I caught him encouraging us to read left-wing journals , did n't I ? 
Was n't he about to encourage us lads to desert ? " 
"That 's a load of bull , " said Marechal . 
" You needled him until he produced his party card . " 
"I knew he was a commie , " said Rossi . 
" I can smell the bastards out as surely as I can smell the bogs . " 
"Perhaps he 's an ex-commie now , " said someone . 
" It looks as though you did him in . " 
"He 's firing at the flank , " said Rossi . 
" He 's been shamming for a long time then , " said someone else . 
" Not everyone has a head as thick as yours , Rossi . " 
"I 'll hold a light under his mug and see if he moves , " said Rossi . 
Durieux could smell the brand from the fire as Rossi approached him . 
It was so close that he inhaled the sweet smoke , and felt the heat glow against his eyelids . 
He decided that it was time to groan as a preliminary to feigning a return to consciousness . 
Rossi kicked him again , but mildly this time , an exploratory kick . 
Durieux raised his head slightly , let it loll back , and opened his eyes . 
Rossi threw the blazing brand back into the fire . 
Durieux groaned again . 
He rolled his eyes and raised himself on one elbow . 
The recovery , he decided , must be very gradual ; otherwise Rossi might take it as an invitation to renew the fight . 
He groaned and sank back again . 
" Commies , " said Rossi . 
" I could crap a better commie . " 
Marechal stood up and walked over to where Durieux lay . 
He was carrying his canteen and he offered it to Durieux . 
" Drink this , " said Marechal . 
" He does n't drink , " said Rossi in a mincing voice . 
" And it 's quite possible that he does n't poke either . " 
"He 'll learn to do both , " said Marechal . 
" And to fight . 
He 's got a lot to learn . " 
Durieux took the canteen , not because he wanted to drink , but because to lie there drinking would prolong the period before he must rise . 
So he drank slowly . 
He found that he was drinking neat pastis . 
The liquorice taste was unmistakable even though he had not tasted it before . 
He spluttered and coughed as the liquid ran down his throat and surged into his stomach . 
But he suddenly felt a great deal better . 
This stuff is liquid fire , thought Durieux . 
It 's like napalm . 
What do you know of napalm ? he asked himself out of journalistic habit . 
Nothing , he admitted , or very little , but I 'd like to have some for Rossi , he told himself . 
I 'd like to see that bastard burn . 
" Go easy with that stuff , man , if you are n't used to it , " he heard Marechal warning him . 
" It will do him good , " said Rossi . 
" It may even put some guts into the miserable little sod . " 
Accepting this as encouragement , Durieux took another long drink from the canteen before returning it to Marechal . 
Then he looked directly at Rossi . 
Durieux forced himself to be no longer afraid of Rossi . 
" Shut your dirty trap , Rossi , or I 'll shut it for you , " he announced . 
" Want some more ? " 
"I 'll smash your mug in , " said Durieux . 
He lurched to his feet and as suddenly sat down again , for the ground appeared to rise with him . 
He got to his knees and became conscious of pain where Rossi had struck the blow . 
Durieux fell forward and was violently sick in the fire : yellow bile that bubbled and spluttered . 
Everything tasted and stank of aniseed . 
But when he had wiped his mouth with the back of his hand , Durieux felt much better . 
" Now I 'll finish him off , " said Rossi . 
" Shut up , " said Marechal . 
" He 's beaten up already . 
Leave the poor bastard be . 
What 's the matter with you , man ? 
Ca n't you find anyone of your own weight to fight ? " 
"Are you looking for a boy beneath your blanket ? " asked Rossi . 
" You know me , " said Marechal . 
" Why else should anyone want to protect a commie from what 's coming to him ? " asked Rossi . 
Durieux had at last succeeded in staying on his feet . 
The stars of the African night were duplicated in his head . 
The pastis had entered his blood stream . 
" I 'm going to have your guts for a tie , " he told Rossi . 
" He 's as pissed as a Pole , " said Marechal . 
" I can lick any man in this stick , " announced Rossi . 
" Except me , " Marechal reminded him . 
" I can lick you in a stand up and smash down fight , " shouted Rossi . 
" Who cares about wrestling ? " 
"I care , man , " said Marechal . 
" I like to wrestle sometimes . " 
"I 'm going to do you both , " announced Durieux , approaching them at a stagger . 
" I 'm going to do the whole world . " 
"You 're too ambitious , " said Marechal . 
" Has anyone got some black coffee ? " 
Someone handed over a mug of black coffee and Marechal gave it to Durieux . 
Durieux spilled some of the coffee down the front of his uniform ; it mingled with the stains of his blood , now drying out brown , and merged well with the dapple-camouflage pattern . 
A Night in the Firth BY JOHN MACGILLIVRAY 
WILLIE MOIR is a big-boned , fresh , sandy-haired young man of about twenty-five , with bushy brows and a ready smile . 
He was washing himself at the sink after a day spent working hard in the wood , and his evening meal was all ready hot and steaming on the table . 
His father was sitting there waiting for Willie to join him , whilst his mother , short and tubby , was hovering between the oven and the table , like a broody hen ; not quite clucking . 
As he dried himself Willie said : " I came round by the harbour on my way home . 
Jimmy Fraser was there and I think I 'll go with him the night . 
Fishing . 
He 's going out later on . " 
"Fishing ? " his father asked . 
" I was never fishing in my life . " 
"Why d'ye not come with us then ? 
It 'll be a grand night . 
You could come . " 
"No' me . 
I do n't like boats . " 
"Were you ever on one ? " 
"Ay , many a one . 
Troopships , in the war . 
Men and horses all together — and comin' home when it was done . 
I do n't like them at all . " 
"Ach , be quiet . 
That 's different altogether . 
You couldna' get a goat on Jimmy 's boat , never mind a horse . 
It 'll be fine and quiet , oot on the firth . " 
"Ay , maybe quiet . 
It 's quiet enough here for me . 
I 'm no' going . 
Come and get your tea before it 's cold . " 
"That 's right . 
Sit in , Willie . 
You 'll be hungry I 'm sure , out all day . 
Sit in , " said his mother . 
" I do n't ken one fish from the other , " said the father . 
" Except maybe a salmon and a spelding . 
They 're a' the same to me . 
I like fish . 
Or a herring . " 
"A spelding 's a haddie , " said Willie . 
" It 's smoked . " 
"Maybe it is . 
What time are you going wi' Jimmy ? " 
"Aboot ten o'clock . 
It 's the tide . " 
"H 'm . 
An' what time will you be home ? " 
"In the morning . 
About nine o'clock maybe . " 
"And what aboot your work ? " 
"Ach , it 's Saturday . 
Surely I can take a Saturday morning once in the year . 
It 's no' much ; only a half holiday . " 
"It 's a half day just the same . 
It wouldna do if we were all taking half days . " 
"Ach , be quate . 
In the Sooth they do n't work on any Saturdays at all , and they do all right . " 
"Ay , the kind o' them ! 
I 'd shoot the half o' them . 
What kind o' an engine has he in the boatie ? " 
"It 's a Diesel , " said Willie . 
" Very good , he says , when it goes . 
Hasna quite got the hang o' it yet . " 
"Watch yoursel' then . 
Do n't be goin' to America or something . 
You 'll maybe be sick , will you ? 
Can you swim ? " 
"All Commandos can swim , " said Willie . 
" But I 'm no' swimming the night . 
Too cold . 
I 'll take a flask o' tea wi' me , Mam , and a few sandwiches . " 
"All right , boy , all right . 
I 'll make them ready for you at nine o'clock . 
Will that do ? " 
"Ay , fine . 
I 'll be in for them then . " 
Big Charlie , the father , took a turn outside in the calm , long summer evening . 
The hills to the south , and Ben Wyvis to the west , stood clear and near . 
He could occasionally hear the sea washing on the beach , and he remembered those other hot sandy beaches and the warm middle sea , so many years ago . 
Willie collected his food parcel and made for the harbour , going in through the fishertown . 
Here and there people were gossiping at gable corners in twos or threes , mostly short round folk , men and women , the men with layers of jerseys and clean flat caps . 
Jimmy Fraser was a fisherman . 
Fresh , wrinkly-faced , clean-shaven , and good natured , he was working on the deck of his boat Magda , and called to Willie , " That you , Wull ? 
Stop there till I start the Diesel , then bring in the lines and we 'll away . " 
He disappeared down a small hatch and Willie could hear him at the engine . 
Jimmy came up and into the little wheelhouse , waving Willie to come aboard with the mooring lines ; then he gently edged the nose of his craft across the still harbour towards the entrance and the firth . 
" Just the two o' us , Jimmy ? " asked Willie . 
" Ay , ay , Wull . 
It 's no' much the night , just a few lines , I thought we 'd manage fine . 
Mind your feet when we get outside , she 'll maybe lift . " 
As the evening spent the light grew less and the firth turned dark grey . 
The breeze blowing across the tide made a little lop on the surface , so when Magda left the shelter of the harbour her bow lifted to the lop and she heeled to the push of the breeze . 
Jimmy increased his speed and the exhaust beat hardened , though still not fast . 
They turned to the north-east , heading for the darkening , and the bows set to a rolling lift and fall , slight and regular . 
" She 'll do six or seven knots , dependin' , " said Jimmy . 
" She 's no' just right this last few days . 
But there 's no great hurry . " 
"Can I no' steer her ? " asked Willie . 
" I think I 'll manage her . 
What way are we going ? " 
"Ay , take her , Wull . 
Here and I 'll show you . 
I 'll go and make a droppie tea . 
Gie me a call if you see anything . " 
He went below and Willie had the night and the boat to himself . 
As Magda chugged through the dark he constantly glanced at the little tell-tale compass . 
Sky had merged with black sea all ahead , but away to the north-west , on his left hand , it was n't yet so black dark , and an occasional light blinked or flashed over there . 
" Tarbat Ness , " he thought . 
" Or maybe the Sutors . " 
He was startled when Jimmy 's voice at his shoulder said , " Here y'are , Wull . 
Tea . 
I 'll take her while you drink it . 
There 's a light in the cabin if you want to sit below . " 
"I 'll have it up here , Jim . " 
Willie enjoyed the hot sweet tea , standing on the deck in the cool of the night , leaning against the wheelhouse and taking his ease . 
" It 's near twelve o'clock , Jimmy " he said . 
" When will we get to your lines ? " 
"Aboot two , boy ; near the slack o' the tide . 
We 'll get the first o' the light . 
Are you for the wheel again ? " 
"Aye , Jim , I 'll take her . 
You get your tea . " 
Willie leant slightly forward over the wheel as he conned the boat , peering into the dark . 
With a lurch he fell forward over the spokes , and one of them drove blunt into the pit of his stomach , stealing his wind , at the same time as he heard Magda 's bow strike with a thump . 
She paused , and the Diesel missed a beat ; before it regained its regular chug Jimmy was on deck , running to the bow , stumbling in the dark . 
" What is it , Wull ? " he shouted . 
" What ha' we struck ? " 
Willie gasped deep , trying to recover his breath . 
" Don' know , Jim . 
Never saw a thing . 
What is it ? " 
"It 's a dam' tree . 
Gie 's a han' to shift it , man . 
Wait you till I put the Diesel oot o' gear . " 
The engine idled easily , relieved of its load , and together they went forward where Jimmy 's torch revealed the tree with some branches reaching into the dark , still across the bow , held there by way of the boat , which had n't quite stopped . 
" It 's doon from the hills wi' the storms and the floods , " said Jimmy . 
" I 'll back her away from it . 
Push wi' this boathook , Wull . 
Take care an' no' lose it . " 
Willie pushed as best he could , and when the engine ground the boat astern they came free of the tree and Jimmy released the engine again . 
" What a dunt , " he said . 
" I wonder has it sprung the stem . " 
He went below into the hold , shining his torch . 
" Looks a'right , Wull , " he said when he came back . 
" Just a bit o' a weep . 
She 'll be a'right if we do n't force her . " 
Before the first gleam had showed in the north-east sky Jimmy had taken the wheel and set Magda more to the south , easing her along as the dawn came to them . 
His eyes were screwed nearly closed as he searched ahead , to right and to left over the face of the sea , and always he sniffed . 
Then "Ay , " he said . 
" They 're there , boy . 
That 's my buoy . 
Bring over that bait , Wull , in the two baskets at the bow . " 
He had cut the engine to idling speed ; the boat was losing way , coming up to the fishing buoy dead slow . 
Jim had explained the job to Willie . 
They were to lift each line and rebait it , taking aboard any catch that might be on the hooks . 
It was to be a busy job because Magda had to be watched and guided as well , and Jim knew how best to do this . 
" See and mind your fingers wi' the hooks , Wull , " he said . 
Most of the lines had bare hooks as they were hauled aboard , where the bait had been taken and the fish had escaped , but there were fishes on some and these flopped and slithered about , trying to get back to sea . 
They had nearly filled their second box of fish when Jim called a halt . 
" It 's near hand six o'clock , boy . 
We 'll have some more tea , will we ? 
Then we can work on and away home . 
There 's wind coming from the south-west . 
We 'll need to work fast . " 
He was edging Magda across to his further lines whilst they ate their bite in the fresh cold morning air . 
" She 's no' just right , man , " he said . 
" Kin' o' grinding a' the time . " 
And then , " Oh , damn , what 's that now ? " as the engine laboured to a standstill . 
" Something wrong this time , Jimmy . 
Let's have a look . " 
Jimmy put the engine out of gear and turned it over with the starting handle . 
" The engine 's free enough ; wonder is it the shaft ? 
Maybe we 've caught up my headrope . " 
"How can we see , Jim ? " 
"From the small boat , Wull . 
We 'll put her over . 
Make fast that line , so we 'll no' lose her . " 
Together they lifted the small boat overside , near Magda 's stern , and Jimmy crouched down in it , searching through the water , trying to see the propellor . 
" I canna see it , Wull , " he said . 
" It 's all grey . 
I canna see clear at all . 
If I could swim I 'd doon and have a look at it . " 
"I 'm no' wanting to wait here , Jim . 
I 'll go in and have a look at it . 
It 's damn cold , though . " 
"Will you manage , boy ? " 
"Fine that . 
What do I have to do ? " 
"Just see is there a rope or something holding the propellor , and take it off . 
Cut it . " 
"Better get me a sharp knife , then . 
Tie a string to it . " 
Willie stripped naked and stepped back into the small boat , shivering . 
Jim followed with his opened gully , a long string tied to its handle . 
" Have a look first , Wull . 
You 'll need to work fast . 
The water 's cold . " 
"I ken fine it 's cold . 
I can feel it . 
Here goes , " and Willie eased himself overside into the sea . 
" Hoo , " he wheezed , then , holding his nose , he bent over and kicked his way downhill . 
In half a minute he surfaced . 
" Losh , it 's cold . 
Gie 's the knife . 
There 's rope tight wound between the propellor and the boat . 
I 'll need to cut it . " 
He dived again and stayed under for about a minute , bobbing up blowing and wheezing . 
" It 's tight and tough , " he said , teeth chattering , and went back to it . 
Several times he dived . 
Jimmy began to worry because Willy was obviously wearying in the cold north water . 
" This time , Jim . 
Finish this time . " 
When next he surfaced he held up an arm , holding to the small boat with the other . 
" Gie 's han' , " he panted . 
Jimmy hauled on the arm , then on a leg , and Willie rolled exhausted into the bottom of the boat . 
" I 'm done , " he gasped , breathing deep and shivering violently . 
" Oot o' here , Wull , man . 
Back aboard and get dry . 
You 'll get your death , " ordered Jim . 
Vendetta ! by Brian Cleeve 
THEY faced each other in the lamplit room , her hands pale against the black of her dress , clasped together , as if she was afraid of what he would say to her , or of what she would answer . 
" Tell me what really happened , " he whispered . 
" How did your father die ? " 
He saw the hands twist , the fingers clench with the effort of holding the words in . 
" Was he killed ? " he said . 
She lifted one hand , pressed its knuckles against her mouth . 
" Yes , " she breathed . 
" They killed him ... " 
She turned away , towards the deep , narrow window that looked out on the valley , and Mount Tamborene . 
There was no moon yet , and the stars were heavy as gold coins in the South Italian sky . 
" And your brother ? 
Silvio ? " 
"What do you think ? " she said , trying to keep the bitterness from her voice . 
" He is carrying on the vendetta . 
Like a hero of the old times . " 
She leant her forehead against the cool plaster of the wall , beside the window . 
" He is up there , on the mountain . 
Stealing their sheep . 
Burning their shepherds ' huts . 
While we stay here ... " 
She was crying now , with a quiet despair that was worse than if she had screamed aloud . 
He was afraid to touch her : afraid of many things , perhaps most of all to wake the thing that he had tried to forget after all the years in the North , since he left this house . 
Seven years . 
Seven years ago , stealing out of the house on a night as dark as this . 
Running away , a boy 's dream in his mind that one day he would come back with a fortune , to dazzle this family that had taken him in as an orphan , saved his life — and exacted the fullest price for it that they could . 
He had been seven years old when they found him , a piece of wartime flotsam cast up in a Calabrian valley from God knew where . 
Starving , remembering nothing but his name , Ettore , and a mind-picture of buildings lit by a fantastic glare , tumbling , falling , while a woman screamed . 
And the Feltri , the richest family in the valley , had let him sleep in a corner of their yard , and fed him scraps in return for work ; drawing water , minding the goats and chickens , seeing that this girl beside him did n't stray out of the courtyard . 
She had been five then , small and dark and supple as a kitten ; running away from him , laughing at him , hiding , while he ran after her in despair , calling " Ginevra , Ginevra , " terrified that he would be beaten or left without food for not minding her properly . 
There had been Silvio too , almost his own age , but already a young prince , slender and arrogant . 
It had been Silvio who gave him his new name , Orfano . 
Ettore the Orphan . 
He had grown up to carry the name with a kind of sullen pride . 
But for that name he might truly have become one of the family . 
They were kind enough to him , as far as they understood what kindness was . 
After the first year or so , they did n't beat him any more . 
They gave him his place in life against the world , as they gave it to their dogs , their shepherds , the women who worked in the house , the peasants who worked on their olive terraces . 
He belonged to them , to their faction , opposing the other faction in the village , that of the Crespi , bitter enemies of the Feltri for more than a hundred years . 
He might have grown up to be like Silvio 's true brother , or cousin , but for that name , Orfano . 
The children in the village shrieked it after him , " the orphan , the orphan ! " 
Sometimes at night he prayed , " When I wake up tomorrow , let me remember my real name . " 
But he never did . 
Only the buildings falling , burning , the woman screaming . 
The only person that he was really close to was Ginevra ; protecting her from her brother ; bringing her new-born chicks in his cap for an Easter gift . 
He pretended to himself that both she and he were orphans ; that they were the brother and sister , not she and Silvio . 
He gave her all the love that he would have given his whole family , if he had had one ... 
Until quite suddenly , between one day and the next , he realised that it had become a different kind of love . 
For a week he had held the knowledge inside himself , half ecstasy , half terror , like a pleasure so unbearable that it becomes agony . 
Then , one evening , when both of them were drawing water by the well , he had told her what he felt ; had taken her hands , held them against his heart , drawn her close to him , so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth ... 
" Ettore ? " she had breathed , afraid of what she saw in his face , what she felt stirring in herself . 
" Ettore ... " 
And he had kissed her ; not wanting to , holding himself back as if it was a sacrilege , and yet drawn down to her . 
And then they had really kissed , and it was like drunkenness , like falling , like fire in the mouth , and they both leaned against the well , sick and dizzy , hardly able to see one another . 
But her father had seen . 
He came out from the house , shouting curses . 
He knocked Ettore to the ground and beat him with a harness strap until he was barely conscious . 
That night Ettore ran away . 
He had known that there was no chance of his being allowed even to speak to Ginevra again . 
He ran away , to make his fortune . 
In a year he would be back , with a motor car and a sack of gold , and he would pour the gold on the great kitchen table in front of all of them . 
When he told them that he had come back to marry Ginevra , they would go down on their knees to him in gratitude . 
But that dream had faded very soon , as he begged his way north , picking up what work he could in Rome , in Bologna , in Milan , Turin . 
Until eventually in Turin the police picked him up as a vagabond , found that he was due for his military service , and shipped him off to the barracks instead of the gaol . 
He thrived as a soldier . 
He was drafted into the engineers , showed promise and intelligence , and was trained as a road surveyor . 
When he finished his service , one of his officers found him a job with a road construction company , and for two years he was working in the Alps . 
Calabria , the Feltri — even Ginevra — seemed to belong to another world . 
He felt that it was better like that . 
It would do him no good to carry useless regret through life . 
He tried never to think of her ... 
And then the construction company was granted a contract in Calabria . 
Ettore Orfano was assigned to it because he knew the dialect , and would get on with the local workmen . 
And suddenly he found himself within twenty miles of Tamborene , and the house which for ten years of his life had been his home . 
FOR a month he debated in his mind whether to go back , then whether to write first , or simply to arrive . 
Finally he compromised . 
A week 's leave was due to him , and he simply wrote that he was coming , and followed his letter so closely that there would be no time for a reply . 
He spent the hour-long journey in the bus trying over a dozen different speeches for his arrival , wondering how they would receive him , nursing the little pile of gifts in his lap : a pipe for Giovanni Feltri ; silk scarves for the women ; a box of cheroots for Silvio . 
He was half-eager to walk into the great kitchen with its smoke-blackened timbers , its huge table , its massive chairs and cavernous hearth ; to show himself to them in his suit from Milan , his town shoes ; to show them what he had become ; a man on the rungs of a skilled professional career , educated , self-assured . 
And yet also half-afraid . 
Of what ? 
Nothing . 
He could imagine the clamour of welcome . 
Even old Giovanni would welcome him , the cuffs , the beatings , the brutalities and the last quarrel forgotten . 
Ginevra would surely be married now . 
Perhaps she would have children . 
Would she have called one of them Ettore ? 
Whom would she have married ? 
One of the Crespi ? 
Not very likely . 
And yet who else had there been for her to marry ? 
Perhaps she had healed the century-old vendetta between the families . 
He tried to be pleased at the idea . 
The bus hammered to a stop . 
He was the only passenger to get down . 
A few men were sitting in the cafe2 opposite , but it was already half-dark and no one recognized him . 
He walked very quickly up the street , into the familiar lane , to the wide , double doors set in the fortress-thickness of the courtyard wall . 
He found that his heart was beating fast , and his mouth was dry . 
Then he heard old footsteps shuffling across the courtyard , an old voice grumbling , the leaf of the great door swinging open with a whine of hinges . 
He recognized one of the servants who had been there in his time : Franca , who had been old then , and seemed no older now , as thin as a stick in her widow 's black that she had worn for forty years . 
She stared at him . 
" Franca , " he said . 
" It 's me . 
Ettore Orfano . 
Do n't you remember ? " 
"{ Madonna mia , " she whispered . 
" Ettore ... " 
Suddenly she ran back towards the house as if possessed , shrieking at the top of her voice , " Ettore Orfano , little Ettore ; he has come back ! 
Ginevra , Signora Angela ... 
Maria ! " 
He followed her , laughing , and at the same time scarcely able to breathe for the thudding of his heart , the tightness in his throat . 
And then she was in the doorway , looking at him , grown very tall and slender , her face ivory pale , her dark eyebrows frowning a little , looking at him among the shadows of the courtyard . 
Until suddenly her hand went out to him , her eyes lighting , her remembered voice saying , " Ettore ! 
Welcome ! 
Welcome ! 
Welcome home ! " 
He took her hands , and looked at her from head to foot , while his fingers felt to see what rings she wore . 
No wedding ring . 
And he was absurdly glad , and then angry with himself . 
He noticed that she was wearing black . 
" You are in mourning ? " he said . 
She was already drawing him into the kitchen . 
" For my father " , Ginevra said . 
" He died a month ago . 
A fall on the mountain . " 
"May God rest his soul , " Ettore said . 
" I am very sorry . 
I would not have come — " 
From inside the kitchen , Ginevra 's mother caught the last words , grasped his arms and shook her head at him in rebuke . 
" Would not have come ? " she exclaimed . 
" You have kept us waiting too long as it is . 
How long will you stay ? 
Where have you ... oh , how fine you have grown , how tall ! 
Eh , Ginevra — eh , Maria ? " 
She seemed not to remember how he had left ; only to be glad to see him again . 
She had changed , Ettore saw . 
In the old days she had been harsh and stiff ; afraid of her husband and yet arrogantly proud that she had a husband strong and fierce enough to make her afraid . 
Now all that seemed gone . 
She seemed to have shrunk , and to have lost all the certainties that once held her upright . 
" And Silvio ? " 
Ettore asked , looking round for him . 
A silence fell on the kitchen . 
Ginevra looked down , avoiding his eyes . 
" He is ... he is away , " she said , and immediately began a great bustle of laying a place for Ettore , of giving orders to Maria the cook , of fetching wine . 
No one mentioned Silvio again all through the meal . 
And when Ettore asked exactly how old Giovanni had died , the same silence fell , as if there were things about the death that they were unwilling to discuss , or that made them afraid . 
He Got What She Wanted by NIGEL MORLAND 
He was haunted by an Income-Tax man — and She by Desire . 
THE years have passed at times like beads told by ancient fumbling fingers ; in other moods I have seen those years race , tearing out of my uncertain grasp , leaving me with a sense of time laughing at me . 
But Time in its flight has no pity , nor have the skies mercy . 
I have tried to flee my twin devils only to see them running at my side , pacing me with nonchalant disinterest , neither mocking nor savage , just there . 
They stay , impalpable , inflexible , constant , yet beyond reach as a man 's shadow . 
And when did it actually start ? 
The first frail tendons of misery wrapped round me unseen tentacles as tenuous as the first shoots of a malignant tumour which remains unknown ... and triumphant on the day the surgeon 's knife finds it and is defeated by it . 
It grew round me like that , sheltering in my sense of shame , overwhelming me until I could do nothing , bringing with it a resurgent second devil , one I thought I had lost . 
A monstrous towering pair , the hunger and the thirst , the unfilled , the unslaked ... 
But autobiography is apt to run amok with a writer 's sense of drama , for I am , indeed , a writer by trade : were I on my death-bed , as well I might be , my pen would record the moments as the self-experimental researcher notes his symptoms . 
Writing is surely nothing but the tape recorder of its creator . 
He might hide , with thin furtiveness , behind the hedge of fiction , yet , nevertheless , all writing is merely the writer playing to the audience of himself , abject before the rowdy despot of the subconscious mind . 
I write because I must , write as Dr. Jekyll might have written when Mr. Hyde was absent . 
But I have no doubts of my closeness to my Mr. Hyde . 
I am both a human being and the devil 's cherished , indissolvably one in an unending oneness . 
When I look round and see my friends , such as they are , and when I think on them I am lost in a sense of wonder . 
They see me as I see myself now in the mirror on the far side of this table at which I am writing . 
Ordinary ? 
Indeed so . 
A slightly built man of medium height ; slim , rather feminine hands , small feet and good bones . 
My face is simply that , the epitome of John Doe : quiet blue eyes , dark hair and what the nice-minded call pleasing features . 
A man , a passable , civilised , modest man of perhaps forty . 
Obviously cleanly ; obviously of good parentage and of good education . 
Those who attend to my wants call me " sir " and I treat them fairly ; head waiters are polite to me . 
My friends see all that in me , too . 
" Frank Damon ? " so they would answer an enquiry , " old Frank ? 
Lord , yes , a nice chap . 
Quiet , you know . 
Good company over a drink and a useful man at bridge and tennis . 
Writes , you know " — here that inevitable apologetic English chuckle — " and good at political stuff . 
Thrillers as well . " 
Here the amused smiles . 
" Never read the things myself , of course ! 
But they must be good . 
He makes money . " 
Old Frank , and I look in the mirror at old Frank , one invisible devil on each shoulder . 
I always did like political science , but thrillers pay , not that I really need it . 
I use a pseudonym , John Laker Considine ( carefully chosen , that — Carr , Chandler , Charteris , Cheyney , Christie ; and Considine fits neatly in the middle on the shelves , picking up some reflected glory ) . 
You know my characters ? 
Dr. Malobo ? 
The Red Aces of Justice ? 
Rafferty of Scotland Yard ? 
Colourful stuff , wild , and perhaps melodramatic , but impervious to my devils . 
John Laker Considine and his bright jackets . 
Poor old shadow ! 
Piling up wilderness of escapism for those who would flee themselves . 
And behind this veritable escapist stands his { 6alter ego , the substantial presence of Frank Damon , old Frank , the nice chap who would give everything in his world , unto the clothes he wears , to become John Laker Considine who dwells in his one-dimensioned pseudonymous world . 
Out of the windows of my gracious study I can look across my small garden , backing on this house my family left me , and becoming Hyde Park . 
On the other side , the front of the house , is the rear of Knightsbridge . 
A noble and valuable house , big for a solitary man , and one that I love . 
However , I digress . 
With my ballpoint in my hand and my thoughts arrayed , my greater morbidities shrink back though they do not leave me entirely , even with the spring brightness of Hyde Park to delight my eyes . 
Brightness in Nature in no way detracts from my devils . 
The one , the older one , I endured and continue to endure though its continuation shocked me ; the second devil came on me a year after Dunkirk , over a decade ago ; it was the more awful of the pair . 
Fortunately it was in London in the chaos of war with bombs turning civic life to ruin . 
I was able to disappear , for money I had and I was able to buy oblivion and secrecy . 
That second devil came on me so stealthily that I did not believe it at first ; then I shrank back affrighted , crushed , nauseated . 
I had to bear it alone — and it is only now , thinking on it all , that I understand how the leper must feel . 
My mother and father died before the Second World War broke out ; they left me this house in which I have returned to live again , and they left me money . 
Writing I took up as a release from myself , and as a means to power without visibility — a purely morbid passion ! 
Yet I always require anonymity . 
That is easily found in London . 
The world and the people I knew before Dunkirk went with those same tides of war which washed smooth the sands of my acquaintance , enabling me to start again . 
So , too , went Mary Damon . 
The world had no need to recall her at all , for those same tides had washed her away as well . 
But this little man must come enquiring . 
A troublesome little man , seemingly as harmless as a fly on the wall : brownish — hair , skin , eyes — and slight . 
Not young , and sadly dressed , with fraying cuff edges and a dusty old hat , a man you could see with a cake and a glass of milk in a cheap restaurant , a man no one would ever notice , wholly a human zero except , perhaps , in his name — Arthur George Zink . 
He was here last week , enquiring so mildly , blinking at me from behind his thick spectacles , affable , self-effacing , desiring not to trouble me , enquiring for Mary Damon , apologising for bothering me , gentle , kindly Arthur George Zink — as weakly persistent as a dripping tap , so damnably , politely , endlessly persistent ! 
I see the tremendous juggernauts of bureaucracy hauled by regiments of Arthur George Zinks , little men and even little women at their eternal writing , making their entries , adding their sums , putting one and one together , until a total must emerge . 
And asking questions , unavoidable questions , persistently , persistently ... 
The inspector 's glare was ferocious . 
" You think that , sir ? " 
He put both hands on the desk , leaning forward to tower over the plump amiability of Superintendent Leeds . 
" It 's the fifth one — do n't forget it . " 
Leeds beamed at Detective-Inspector Chater . 
Because they had become friends when they met as uniformed probationers on their two basic years , they usually forgot rank when alone . 
" You 're letting the thing infuriate you , Tom — " 
Chater threw up his arms and sat down , placated by the use of his Christian name . 
" Naturally I 'm a trifle distrait . " 
He glared . 
" Five kidnappings and five kids returned without a hair of their dear little heads being harmed , without a single mother screaming blue murder after the first knowledge of the thing — " Chater jerked a thumb to indicate all New Scotland Yard . 
" The pundits must be delighted . " 
"They are indeed . " 
Leeds flapped his hands at the lean black Highland fury of his friend . 
" But I 'm your super , old boy . 
Wo n't the mothers say a thing ? 
You can tell me . " 
"Tush ! 
Compounding , dammit ! 
And do they care ? " 
Chater sniffed . 
" Ach ! 
And how can I move ? 
I ca n't even prove they 've paid or how much or where . 
Women ! " 
"Kids all right , I s'pose ? " 
"I 've got my methods in finding out . 
Aye , they 're bonny . 
Clean , well-fed , cared for , happy as Larry . 
I 've known a few kidnappings but none like this . " 
"And why wo n't the mothers talk ? 
What 's behind it ? 
Ca n't you get one of the Yanks to come across and help us ? 
They 're used to the snatch racket . " 
Leeds grimaced . 
" Now , Tom . 
We 're in a cleft stick , you know it . 
Nobody 's complained , at least the complaints 've been withdrawn as soon as made . 
We ca n't prove anything , or even how the money passed — " 
" There 's such a thing as compounding — " 
" Be quiet , Tom . 
It 'd be a hellish charge to get across in court . 
Can you see the Attorney-General 's face if he was asked to support a charge against a mother for compounding when her child has been kidnapped and she wanted it back ? " 
Leeds leaned forward . 
" Tom , get the bastard , will you ? 
Apart from everything else , it 's a dirty business . " 
Chater snorted irately . 
But this is not work . 
I have the newest adventure of Dr. Malobar to finish , a matter of ten thousand words , yet I find essays at autobiography so fascinating , the ancient principle of confession being good for the soul ! 
It may be . 
It is also a minor antidote to devils . 
I am feeling clearer in mind , more comfortable . 
There is the Malobar manuscript to fetch . 
I am old-fashioned in that I write in longhand , for my mind constructs and perfects the next sentence while I am still writing . 
The folder of manuscript lives in the built-in cupboard in the bedroom , for no sensible reason . 
When I opened the door and bent to pick up the folder , a wave of nostalgia swept over me . 
Not for months had it happened . 
Perhaps the spring air intensified the deep scent of gardenia , that well-remembered scent . 
All carefully preserved , hanging there , the outer world of Mary Damon ... there was the coral taffeta with the full skirt , the brown check suit — a costly article — bought in Bond Street , and the ivory satin cloak that had gone to all the best theatres in London . 
There was the fur coat — Persian lamb , a most expensive thing , costly , too , but I saw it as hateful , for only the other day I read of what happens to those small lambs ... 
I touched garment after garment , each fashioned article had a memory a decade old , a story , an appeal , and each reached out to me , disturbing me , hurting — me , a man , a writer of bloodthirsty tales , John Laker Considine , no less ! 
But the requested Danegeld was paid in the coinage of uneasy recollection which memory demanded . 
I was a fool , a thrice damned fool to keep these things here , a stupid danger in their way , yet I could do nothing , could not get rid of them any more than could a mother throw away the relics of a dead child . 
Five children kidnapped — and no clue to the guilty 
Then it began worrying me again , that probing little man , that subtle and insinuating Zink . 
A wholly absurd name which comes dangerously close to Mary ... 
God forbid that he can disinter her , yet in a most shocking sense he can do that if he comes too close , and then ? 
These morbid thoughts did not help me . 
I thrust the pen at the paper , back again at my table , and thought of Dr. Malobar , "The tall man with the dramatic green eyes seemed to tower over the whole room , a growing domination of terror . " 
There it stopped , a hiatus which remained . 
It was no use trying ; I could not write . 
That brownish little man of the frayed cuffs and the dusty hat would not leave my mind . 
LARSEN 'S LAST HAUL 
" Lucky " Larsen , the ruthless skipper of the Arctic trawler " Volsung " , did not believe in Hell hereafter . 
He only believed in the immediate hell of his savage way of life ... by George Goldsmith-Carter 
THE ARCTIC TRAWLER Volsung laboured heavily at her trawl in the looping ground-swell to the west nor' west of Andenes lighthouse , flashing feebly against the sleet-blurred , rocky backdrop of the coast of North West Norway . 
Above the tiny vessel the Northern Lights rippled in green , barbaric radiance across a sable , freezing sky . 
Beneath her restless keel rolled water which , glacial blue in the few hours of half light yet to come , was now black and bitter as death . 
The massive bulk of " LUCKY " LARSEN , skipper of the Volsung , loomed in the open window of the wheelhouse , from whence he stood watching , heedless of the gathering rime of frost which glittered on the red stubble of his heavy jaw . 
He looked across the dark sea to where the tip of the new moon was thrusting like a silver dagger from behind the shark-toothed peaks of Andoy , then his wolfish eyes shifted to the fish-pounds in the fore-deck beneath him . 
Illuminated by the glare of the deck lights a dozen men were toiling , their oilskinned backs hunched against the bite of the searing wind which glazed the ship with ice . 
Those men had been on their feet for seventy hours now , labouring without a break , and , half blind and savage with exhaustion , they were reduced almost to the level of beasts . 
Men driven beyond endurance by the silent menace of the watcher above to shoot and haul the giant net , to gut and pack the torrent of bronze-backed haddock which shimmered endlessly inboard , and curse the cooks if the mugs of strong and scalding tea were not forthcoming . 
Larsen 's " Luck " lay in his inherited ability to find the roving fish shoals when others could not and having found them , harry his crew without mercy until the fish holds were full . 
Yet in spite of his reputation men still joined his ship to share the wealth he found , knowing that in the finding he would break their bodies and their spirits , driving them with flaying tongue and fist until the voyage was made . 
Then when at last the hatches were battened down , they would reel below to drop exhausted in their reeking clothes , lying like corpses where they fell . 
The crew of the Volsung had almost reached that point now , for their bloodshot eyes were glazed with exhaustion and the blank look of sleep walkers was on their scale and slime masked faces as they toiled unceasingly amid the slaughter of the fish-pounds . 
There was comprehension but no pity on Larsen 's face as he bleakly watched his crew , for he knew that there was no room for pity in this way of life . 
A few hours back a young deck-hand on his first trip had stumbled up to him , his frost-ravaged , bleeding hands held out in supplication . 
" For the love of God , skipper , I just ca n't carry on ! " he had cried . 
With bitter and contemptuous words Larsen had ordered him below to help the cook , telling him that thereafter he would receive no pay . 
Larsen 's restless gaze swept to the fish-gutters , their inflamed and toil-swollen wrists swathed in old rags to ease the abrasion of the sand spilling from the bellies of the fish which they were ripping open . 
The gutting knives flashed ceaselessly , in at the vent , out at the gills . 
Like automatons the men worked , flinging the livers into baskets for rendering into fish-oil , tossing the entrails overboard in an endless stream . 
Larsen 's frost-blackened lips curved cynically as he watched the screaming horde of sea-fowl swooping avidly at the offal which encircled his ship . 
All about him gleamed the fishing lights of many nationalities . 
He knew that each trawler , like his own , was emptying the sea of fish , destroying unborn life and fouling the sea with an endless torrent of filth . 
With savage irony men had called this mighty gathering of fishing craft " The League of Nations " , for the trawlers fished in bitter rivalry , the larger vessels ruthlessly thrusting the smaller ones from where the haddock shoaled the thickest . 
One thing alone Larsen knew these raiders had in common — a blind rapacity which chose to disregard the barren future of the seas . 
Yet this heedless rapine meant nothing to him , for in his grandfather 's day men had thus plundered the North Sea . 
" The Gamecocks " , " The Short Blues " and other great fleets of rival sailing trawlers had swept bare the Dogger Bank , denuded the fabulous " Silver Pits " , looted the fishy gold of the California Grounds . 
Then with the North Sea almost barren they had turned to the west , scouring away the Lemon soles of Cornwall 's Klondyke Ground . 
In his own time the Spanish trawlers had pillaged , almost overnight , the silver hake of southern Irish waters , ruining Milford Haven , once the chief hake port of the world . 
Then with home waters a desolation , a new type of trawler had appeared . 
The powerful "High Altitude " trawlers which now ravaged the bitter waters of Bear Island and Nova Zembla ; the plaice abounding shallows of the White Sea ; the cod-rich Icelandic Banks — and these haddock-teeming Norwegian Deeps . 
" The Wall of Death " some called the place , a grim spot where the Continental Shelf swooped steeply from the surf smashed rocks of the shore , ending in a submerged precipice which plunged twelve thousand feet into the Oceanic depths beneath . 
Against this deep-drowned cliff the gale-driven surges of the Arctic Ocean beat in elemental malice , creating a maelstrom which was death to ships and men . 
Yet Larsen knew no pity for the dead whose bones lay far beneath him , he knew only the law of the Northern Trawl , " The weak perish but the strong survive . " 
Nor did he heed the fools who believed these water haunted by ghost ships with the earth-bound spirits of their crews doomed forever to endure the torment of their earthly memories and re-enact in endless ghostly parody the last moments of their lives . 
He smiled sardonically to himself , for he knew that there was no hell hereafter . 
Reason told him that nothing but oblivion , blacker and deeper than the depths beneath him , lay beyond this hell that men called " life " . 
Leaving the wheelhouse , Larsen glanced astern to where the wire trawl-warps twanged and quivered away into the heaving night . 
" Get some weight on that after warp , bos'un ! " he bellowed . 
Going back into the wheelhouse he scanned the echometer , " Watch your steering , blast you ! " he growled at the weary helmsman " You 're wandering over the edge . " 
Tonight the haddock were shoaling massively in three hundred fathoms , along the very edge of " The Wall of Death " . 
A little to the westward of this sounding lay an abyss of eighteen hundred fathoms , beyond the reach of any trawl and the haunt of alien species . 
Here swam the snake-like Cyclothones , the rat-tailed Chimerae , the swag-bellied Oceanic Angler fishes , useless monstrosities , armoured against the cold depths with incredible slime and carrying their own weird luminosity to light their mindless gropings in awful pressure and a blackness beyond night . 
Larsen was not interested in marine biology , only in profit . 
The mate came into the wheelhouse . 
He was a young man whose eyes were black holes of fatigue burned into his thin , dirty face . 
The scarred and broken nailed fingers of his left hand were locked in the handles of two grime-streaked mugs of tea , whilst his right hand steadied him against the uneasy lurching of the ship . 
" Have a mug o' lotion , skipper , " he said hoarsely . 
Larsen gulped the lye-strong , scalding fluid then rasped " How are the men ? " 
The mate shrugged , knowing well that Larsen 's concern was not with the crew 's welfare , merely with their ability to continue working . 
" They say that they 're spragged , skipper , and that whether you like it or not , they 're stopping for a kip . " 
Larsen leaned out from the wheelhouse window , his out-thrust face like that of a gargoyle " Which of you ... is stopping for a sleep ? " 
His voice was hardly raised but it seemed to bite into the very ice-bound fabric of the plunging ship . 
The men beneath him raised their haggard faces and though dull hatred glimmered in their clouded eyes , none spoke . 
" Come on my lads " he chided softly , a thick vein hammering in his corded throat " Who wants to sleep ? ... do n't be afraid . 
Speak up . " 
When nobody answered him he nodded as if satisfied " Good . 
Any more of that talk and I 'll be down amongst you ... " his voice cracked suddenly like a whip " Now get back to work you ... s ! " 
For a moment he watched them go , trying to flog the life back into their frozen limbs . 
Then he spoke to the mate . 
" How does the fish tally stand ? " 
"Fifty thousand stone of haddock , skipper . 
The holds are full ... a record catch . " 
Larsen 's bitter face showed no jubilation "This next haul will be our last . 
That 's all . " 
When the mate had gone Larsen went back to the open window , where oblivious to the slashing , needle-pointed sleet , he stood with his powerful legs braced against the motion of the ship . 
For an eternity , it seemed he 'd been at strife with the elements and at strife with men . 
With axes and steam horses he had fought the creeping Black Frosts which had tried to burden his ship with their deadly weight of ice . 
With brain and furious strength he had fought the giant seas which had licked men away like flies and threatened to engulf him . 
With cruel fists and crueller words he had cowed crews made mutinous by wicked overwork . 
But memories he could not cow . 
They crept into his mind at unguarded moments . 
He remembered the day on the Rockall Bank when he had heaved down on the winch to free the trawl which was fast to some obstruction two hundred fathoms down . 
The net had not come free and he had heaved down like a madman , in spite of the lurching ship and frightened glances of his men . 
He had heaved until the water lapped the rail . 
Heaved until a massive iron bollard had exploded like a bomb and the trawl-warp flailing clear of its captivity , had scythed away a man 's head . 
He remembered how the decapitated body had taken three dreadful steps before it fell . 
He remembered , too , the night off North Cape when only he had dared fish whilst other craft lay hove-to for their lives in the hurricane wind and giant seas . 
The ton-weight otter board of the net had ripped free of its dog-chain and swinging inboard from the fore-gallows , had crushed the boatswain to a pulp . 
Yet men called him " Lucky " — a man whose wife , overwhelmed by loneliness , had left him . 
A father whose grown children had long since become as strangers to him . 
In the tiny radio cabin behind the wheelhouse the radio operator had switched on the receiver and a babel of voices and tongues broke in on Larsen 's thoughts . 
The skippers of many nations were asking for instructions from their company offices ; some were rejoicing in their run of luck ; others blasphemously cursing it . 
One voice was drowning all the others with its ire . 
" Lost all my nets but one and that 's ripped to doll rags ... all for the sake of a lousy two hundred boxes of fish . 
Wo n't clear my expenses ! 
Over and out . 
Gone me ... " 
A look of contemptuous amusement came to Larsen 's face . 
He knew the owner of that rancorous voice , it belonged to the skipper of the trawler Valkyrie ... 
DAN SCARDEN , a man known for his bitter complaints . 
Going into the radio cabin Larsen switched on the transmitter and called " Volsung to Valkyrie , Volsung to Valkyrie . 
D'ye hear me Dan ? ... over . " 
He waited for an answer but none came . 
Tapping the speaker in his hand Larsen called " Volsung to Valkyrie , Volsung to Valkyrie . 
Need a hearing aid , Dan ? 
For god 's sake stop chafing and start fishing ... " he grinned maliciously " you can have a couple of my spare nets . " 
Begins today : dramatic story of a Scots girl sold as a slave A GIFT FOR THE SULTAN 
THAT Scottish autumn of 1767 was a cold one . 
Ice rarely melted in the rutted country lanes , and the fields and hills were permanently blanketed in thick , white frost . 
Winter would come early and stay long , and in a country poverty-stricken since the disastrous uprising , the prospect was grim indeed . 
With strange English landlords usurping their chieftains ' seats , the scattered clansmen were gradually deprived of home and hope . 
Sheep were a paying proposition , men were not , so the new " lairds " wanted land . 
By paying starvation prices for their tenants ' crops , and cruelly raising the cost of food and fuel and rents , they got it . 
Faced with eviction and worse , men despairing of their children 's future turned in their thousands to the bright New World that beckoned from across the sea . 
It was heartbreaking to go , but worse to stay , and soon every district had its share of deserted cottages and crofts . 
Even in the tiny Aberdeenshire village of Mill o' Steps there were smokeless chimneys and blank , unlighted doorways . 
But the windows of the blacksmith 's cottage on that cold September night glowed warm and welcoming . 
In the living-room a blazing peat fire lit up the red-gold hair of a young girl who stirred an iron soup-kettle at the enormous hearth . 
She was listening with more amusement than respect to the old woman who sat hunched beside her , staring into the flames . 
" You can laugh , my girl , " the other reproved her . 
" But the day will come when you 'll remember what I tell you now . 
You 'll stand where eagles fly — " 
From the scullery there came a sudden angry snort , and an irritable voice called : " Will you stop this nonsense at once , Morag Paterson ? " 
But the woman at the fire ignored her , and pressed on unperturbed in her droning sing-song voice . 
" You 'll stand where no woman ever stood — and be in mortal danger for it . 
And all about you there 'll be cruelty undreamed of , and those who would kill you if they could . 
But there 's love undreamed of for you , too , and some who 'll live to serve you and die to prove it . 
You 'll walk with a man beside you that men bow down to — " 
" Mistress Paterson ! " the girl protested laughingly . 
But the other nodded her head solemnly . 
" Aye , it 's the truth . 
And you 'll be so high and mighty — " 
" She 's that already ! " 
The exasperated speaker appeared in the doorway . 
" Will you stop filling her head with such blether ? " she demanded . 
" Blether , is it , Jessie Gloag ? " retorted the other , stung . 
" And who was it sent for me to come and say what lies ahead ? 
Blether , indeed ! " 
She turned to stare into the fire again . 
Quietly she said : " Nay , but it 's true . 
She 'll wear silks and laces and ride where others will walk , and we that hear of it will marvel at what comes to pass . " 
THE girl beside her laughed again , her green eyes dancing in the firelight . 
" Och , Mistress Paterson — you should be telling fortunes at a fair ! " she teased . 
" It 's rich you 'd soon be , with such fine fates for the asking ! " 
Old Morag shrugged , but before she could say more the woman she called Jessie turned on the younger one . 
" What ails you , girl ? " she snapped . 
" Himself will be in this instant and never a drop of hot water to be had . 
Will you fetch the bucket at once ! " 
With a toss of her head , the girl flounced past her . 
" Say " if you please " and I 'll maybe send you a jewel from my crown , " she mocked and went , slamming the door behind her . 
Jessie 's face darkened and the older woman eyed her shrewdly . 
" Do n't be so hard on the lass , Jessie . 
It 's envy that ails you — envy that your man had a child by the wife before you . 
But there 'll be sons for you — aye , and happiness , too — when Helen 's gone from your sight . " 
She sighed and turned back to the fire . 
" And that will be much sooner than you 're thinking . " 
"It 'll not come soon enough for me , " retorted the other ungraciously , and turned as Helen entered to berate her for leaving the outside door ajar . 
" I left it for himself , " the girl replied , her manner suddenly oddly subdued . 
" He and Uncle Donald are just coming . " 
She had moved the soup-kettle to one side and now began to fill the cauldron on the hob . 
But at the sound of footsteps on the path outside she half turned to the doorway , slopping the water badly as she did so . 
" Land sakes , will you look what you 're about ! " her irate stepmother exploded , as Andrew Gloag entered the room . 
" Och , hold your whisht , woman , " he said irritably . 
" We 'll have none of you scowls and scolds on my brother 's last night with his family . " 
Flushing , she turned on him . 
But before she could retort , she saw him slump heavily into a chair , and there was something in his attitude that silenced her . 
Watching him from the fireside , Helen was suddenly wildly elated . 
Forcing herself to be calm , she set the bucket down carefully and then stood to face him , her hands pressed together to still their trembling . 
For a long moment he sat silent and she glanced nervously at the young man who had followed him in . 
Reassured by his nod , she waited to meet her father 's gaze , steeling herself against the remorse she knew she would feel at hurting him . 
AT last , with a shake of his head , Andrew raised his eyes to hers . 
" It 's really what you want , lass ? " he said quietly . 
And , seeing the answer so clearly in her face , added in the same tone : " Then that will be the way of it . " 
"America ! " she breathed , and for a moment could not make herself consider how her delight must wound him , compunction killed by the realisation of a thousand dreams . 
" You 're sure you know what you 're about , lass ? " he said , eyeing her searchingly . 
" Turning your back on all you 've ever known — have you thought you 'll likely never see your family or friends again ? " 
"I know it all , father . 
But I must go — I must go ! " 
He sighed heavily . 
" And you will leave with Donald in the morning ? " 
"If you will let me . " 
FOR Jessie , this sudden turn of events seemed too good to be true . 
But as she saw the dispirited sag of her husband 's shoulders she forced herself to speak to Helen . 
" You 've no call to be leaving home , " she said , and flushed as she added , " if it 's ought that I 've said or done — " 
But old Morag cut across her words . 
" The kitchen 's not been built that will hold two women — it 's not your fault or the lass 's . 
And do n't you glare at me , Andrew Gloag ! 
Your girl is seventeen and she 'd be away from home soon enough , one way or the other . " 
Donald spoke for the first time . 
" She 'll take no harm with me , Andrew . 
I 'm sure you know it . " 
"Och , man , do n't speak of it , " his brother answered . 
With an effort he smiled , and it broke the tension . 
Helen crossed to him and , in a rare show of affection , bent to kiss his cheek . 
" Uncle Donald must have someone to cook and clean and keep house for him , " she said eagerly . 
" And maybe he 'll make a fine fortune and marry — and then he can buy me a passage to come back to see you . " 
She glanced hopefully at Morag , expecting support . 
But the old woman turned again to stare into the fire . 
" All that 's as maybe , " she said flatly . 
" But you 'll not change what 's to come , though you talk till you drop . 
You 'll follow the path that 's been laid for you — aye , and Donald will follow his . " 
Sleep was a long time coming to Helen that night . 
There had been so much to talk about , so much to plan . 
It was only when she was alone at last in the curtained comfort of her wall cot that she could think at all clearly . 
She had grown up in the knowledge that a large part of her father 's fondness for her was on account of her remarkable likeness to the mother she had hardly known . 
Now she suddenly saw that her absence might well be the best thing for them all . 
She had been touched and troubled by Jessie 's obvious effort at conciliation , and knew it for what it was — a gesture of self-sacrifice for the man she loved . 
The evening 's excitement seemed somehow to have brought a sharper awareness of her own thoughts and emotions , and now , ashamed , she realised that she had never before given a moment 's consideration to Jessie 's . 
It could not have been easy to try to take the place of an adored memory . 
And with a spoiled child to contend with as well , it must have seemed an almost hopeless task . 
She flushed suddenly in the darkness , remembering the times without number when she had deliberately scored off the young stepmother , childishly flaunting her ability to wheedle all she wanted from her doting father . 
She could see again Jessie 's odd , strained expression at such times — and suddenly she recalled another face , another expression , and her cheeks grew even hotter . 
Uncle Donald . 
SEVERAL times in recent weeks she had caught his thoughtful , measuring gaze on her after some sharp exchange between herself and Jessie , and now she suddenly knew without any doubt that this was his reason for taking her away . 
Not because he needed her or particularly wanted her company , but because he thought the situation unfair to Jessie . 
It was Jessie who awakened her in the morning — a strangely different , quieter Jessie . 
For the moment , they were alone : the two men were over at the smithy and old Morag was washing at the pump in the yard . 
In the light of her new understanding , Helen would have dearly liked to take advantage of the moment and wipe out all past trouble between them . 
But in her inexperience she found it difficult even to act at all naturally . 
Then Jessie placed a bowl of porridge on the table and pushed Helen 's own horn spoon towards it , and this small courtesy undid them both . 
After mumbling her thanks , the younger woman sat red-faced and unmoving until the other suddenly said in a tired voice : " I 've not been much of a mother to you , Helen . 
You 'd not be wanting to go away from your home if I had . " 
"It 's not that , " Helen said lamely , then tried again : " I 've not been much of a daughter to you , come to that . " 
JESSIE appeared not to have heard . 
" I meant to be , dear knows . 
There were plenty to say I 'd rue the day , but I would n't listen . 
So certain sure I was that God had put me here on earth to care for Andrew Gloag and his child that nobody could tell me different . 
And now just look what it 's come to ! " 
She sat down suddenly and faced Helen across the table . 
" You 'll break his heart if you go , you know that ? " 
Helen shook her head , all uncertainty amazingly gone . 
" No . 
I thought about it , last night . 
I think it 's best for everybody . " 
As Jessie looked at her oddly , she hurried on : " I realised a lot of things , last night . 
Things I should have thought of sooner . " 
Embarrassed , she said : " I was thinking , you could n't have been much above my age when — when you — " 
She broke off . 
She could not have said " married my father " for the life of her . 
She knew what marriage entailed , and only now did it occur to her that there could have been little of true marriage between Andrew Gloag and his second wife . 
" I was sixteen , " said Jessie , quietly . 
" Sixteen ! " 
Helen repeated , startled . 
From the doorway , old Morag said : "Aye , but she 'll not be twice that before she 's bouncing her first-born on her knee . " 
"Do n't talk so daft , woman ! " 
Jessie said , with a return of her old spirit . 
THE GUN BY HARRY RICHMAN A very short story that is not what it seems 
GINO stopped pacing the floor and walked over to the sideboard . 
Gently , he pulled open the middle drawer and stared at the huge black Luger that was once his father 's , lying serenely in the farthest corner . 
Still without a sound , he closed his huge brown hand over the cold steel , and hastily transferred it to his jacket pocket . 
A few seconds later his wife walked into the room . 
" Gino , what are you doing ? " 
"Nothing ! — Thinking . " 
He walked away from the drawer and put his hands in his pockets to stop them from trembling . 
" { 3Why you no think about getting the work ? " 
She wiped her hands on a dirty apron . 
" { 3Thinking — walking up — down ... 
No food in the house , what you think about that , huh ? 
You got ta any plans about that ? 
We 'd be better if we stay in Viareggio . " 
She wiped an imaginary tear from her rosy cheek . 
" { 3You wan na go back to Viareggio — go ! 
I no stop you . 
I stay here . 
Go back if you wan na go . 
You think I no try and get the work , huh ? 
What you think — you think I no try ? " 
Gino turned and stalked out of the house . 
A hard , loud slam of the door stopped his wife 's voluble Italian adjectives from following him out . 
Ever since he 'd lost his job two weeks ago , they 'd done nothing but squabble . 
He pulled out a cigarette packet and stared disconsolately at the last Woodbine . 
He placed it carefully between his lips and lit it . 
He winced as the empty packet landed in the gutter . 
Food he could manage without for a few days , but cigarettes ... 
He inhaled deeply and kept the smoke inside of him for as long as he could . 
He walked all morning . 
In the afternoon it began to drizzle . 
Gino pulled his jacket collar up high and for the umpteenth time placed his hand on the Luger . 
He felt nervous and undecided . 
He glanced up at a clock hanging over a jeweller 's shop . 
It was four o'clock — he had time . 
He decided to wait in a doorway for the rain to stop . 
He wanted to think . 
He would n't go back to Viareggio . 
If she wanted to go , let her . 
He dug into his pocket for a cigarette , and was irritated when only a box of matches came out . 
His irritation made him think about his wife 's mother : " { 3I do n't let you to take my daughter to London . 
A daughter 's place is by her mother — you no right — you no right to take my bambino away . " 
She 'd gone on and on , even when the train moved off she was still shouting . 
He would n't go back , no matter what . 
He ran his hand over the gun and the anger he felt subsided slightly . 
He 'd show her . 
He 'd show everybody . 
Gino moved out of the doorway into the drizzle , that showed no signs of stopping . 
It was four-thirty and plans had better be made . 
His face was covered with thoughtful wrinkles as he walked steadily forward . 
From time to time his deep concentration was floored by the aroma of hot coffee from the many cafe2s . 
The smells of fresh bread and fried chicken caused his stomach to scream in anguish . 
Cigarette smoke seemed to find his nose from all of a hundred different brands . 
He dug his nails deeper into the palms of his hands , as his head began to reel . 
Frantically he swallowed huge gulps of air and then closed his eyes to help stop the buildings from going round and round . 
In desperation , he branched off into an alley-way , and there , breathing heavily , and by now almost wet through , he waited for peace to return . 
It was now five . 
Gino wiped his face and head with an old handkerchief . 
It had stopped drizzling , and he was annoyed at having allowed himself to be soaked . 
He squeezed the water from his handkerchief and strode forward . 
His mind was made up . 
He walked straight toward a little shop he had once seen in one of the many side streets that ran like arteries off Soho 's more public thoroughfares . 
There were only a few people about . 
Some fifty yards from the shop , he put his hand on the Luger and made it feel comfortable . 
An old woman stopped to look into the shop 's windows . 
Gino hesitated . 
The gun was heavy in his pocket . 
The whole left side of his body seemed to feel the weight . 
The old lady went away . 
Gino moistened his lips . 
He 'd never done anything like this before . 
He uttered a swift , silent prayer , finishing with "dear Father and Mother , please forgive me . " 
His forehead was covered in perspiration . 
He arrived at the door and stopped . 
He could n't go through with it . 
He was from a good family . 
The name Farrari was known all over Italy . 
If the news ever got back home — he shuddered . 
He moved to the corner of the quiet little street and watched a light come on in the small shop . 
" Dear God , " whispered Gino , " what shall I do ? " 
The gun was beginning to feel heavier and heavier . 
Suddenly , he knew what he must do . 
His face grim , his demeanour calm , he again walked forward . 
What did he care what anybody thought or said ! 
No one worried about him . 
Nobody cared . 
He stalked into the shop and stopped three yards from the counter . 
There were two men inside . 
The older one was putting something away on a shelf . 
Gino put his hand on the gun and walked toward the fat one , who was reading the evening paper . 
With a short , jerky movement , he drew the Luger from his pocket . 
His hand shook , and he felt sick with shame . 
" How ... , " he put the gun on the counter , " { 3how much you give me for this , please ? " 
COMMUNICATION 
Terror roared at his family out of the lonely night . 
But no one could help him , in his agonising struggle to save them — and prove himself . 
BY A. E. TREPPASS Illustration by Bernard Blatch 
THE large illuminated sign at the road side etched its message sharply in the cool darkness : 
STOP — ONE HUNDRED YARDS AHEAD — FOR THE LAST CUP OF TEA FOR MILES . 
Charles Corran smiled and remembered the red brick cafe2 with its rose garden and gravel car park . 
They had been tempted to stop there at the beginning of their holiday . 
Now , late , on the way home , he was more than tempted . 
Besides , just beyond the cafe2 lay the twenty-mile long , lonely road across Rannet Moors ; a wearisome journey , particularly so late at night when all he wanted to do was doze over the steering column . 
He slowed the car and turned to Meg , his wife . 
In the half light she looked tired and a little sad . 
It had been a good holiday and they had all been reluctant to leave the sea and the sun . 
" Shall we ? " he asked . 
She nodded lazily and stirred in her seat , enough to glance at the two children who were snuggled sleepily in the back . 
Tony , who was five and precocious , opened his eyes and murmured : 
" Shall we what , Daddy ? " 
"Have a cup of tea , " Meg replied . 
" I want orange , " Belle informed them , with all the authority of her eleven years . 
" With a straw , " Tony added . 
" Good . " 
Charles signalled that he was turning left , and , at the very moment he nosed into the cafe2 car park , there was a noise beside them like an aero engine and two unsilenced motor cycles carrying black , helmeted figures roared right across his path , spraying gravel over his bonnet . 
He braked instantly and the steering wheel hit his chest and he gasped . 
Meg cried out as her head bumped the windscreen and Tony began to sob on the floor . 
" The devils ! 
The fiendish devils ! " 
Meg snapped as she leant over the back seat to help Belle gather Tony into her arms . 
Charles said nothing . 
He realized he had heard the motorcycles approaching and he knew they had had time to see his signal . 
He waited until his family were settled , then he accelerated into the car park . 
He caught the motorcycles and the riders in the full glare of his headlights , braked and slipped purposefully out of the car . 
" Do n't ! " 
Meg pleaded , but he ignored her . 
He had the acrid taste of fear in his mouth and his chest ached . 
His legs were rubbery but he was angry . 
He pulled his tired body off the rack of the long , weary drive from Dorset and clenched his fists . 
The riders were standing beside their motorcycles waiting for him . 
They were dressed from head to foot in black ; black leggings , boots , zipper jacket , goggles . 
Their manner was as insolent as the startling white skull and crossbones on each black crash helmet . 
They were young and Charles wanted to lash out at them . 
" You maniacs ! " he snapped , and they stared at him . 
" Turn the light out , Mister , " the slighter one drawled . 
" It hurts my eyes . " 
HE stood a yard away from them and tried to feel he was towering over them , but they were as tall , or even taller than he . 
He tried to control his fury and his hammering heart by taking a deep , slow breath . 
" You crazy lunatics , " he said , and his voice sounded strange and weak . 
" You 'll kill someone someday . " 
One of them laughed ; a sharp , hysterical sound . 
The other spat . 
" So what ? 
As long as it is n't you why should you worry ? " 
Charles stepped forward , incensed beyond reason . 
Instantly the taller thrust his body forward and warned viciously : 
" You touch me , mate and I 'll call the cops . " 
Amazed , Charles hesitated , and the taller one sensed his advantage . 
He flipped Charles ' tie out , turned and caught his companion 's arm . 
" C'm on , boy . 
Let's blow ! 
Man , this fella 's a drag ! " 
Charles watched them strut into the doorway of the cafe2 and realized his inadequacy . 
There was no way in which he could communicate with them . 
They were in their own , arrogant , teenage world ; a world of curt questions and harsh answers , of sudden irrational impulses ; a world that had changed radically in the twenty years since he had left it . 
At the car he was faced with the silence of his family . 
He sensed their fear , saw Meg 's sharp , shadowed profile , saw Belle sitting tense , wide awake , her arm round Tony . 
It was Tony who spoke first . 
" What did the man do , Daddy ? " 
"Hush ! " 
Meg silenced him quickly , but he would have felt better if she had said nothing . 
He wanted no protection from someone weaker than himself . 
" Nothing , " he said and tucked the tie back inside his jacket . 
Meg watched him , then held the car door for him and his anger switched to her . 
He was not an invalid . 
But he checked himself , held the anger back , and slid into the driving seat . 
" Shall we go on ? " she asked and it was really a request , not a question . 
He nodded . 
Twenty miles across Rannet Moor , through Bisset and Scowlea , then home . 
He could wait an hour for a cup of tea . 
" I want some orange , " Tony begged , and Meg soothed him . 
" Hush , darling . 
When we get home . 
There is n't any here . " 
"But daddy did n't ask , " the boy insisted . 
" He did , " Meg replied easily as Charles switched on the engine . 
He drove the first five miles along the black ribbon of the moor road carefully , in silence . 
He was ashamed and he felt that all his family , even Tony , were ashamed of him . 
Slowly his body calmed and his brain cooled , but he wanted home ; the touch and sight and smell of familiar things . 
He tried to tell himself that the car was an extension of home and that while he was in it nothing more could go wrong . 
But the moors were a cold , uneasy waste where every bush and shadow and dark rise hid watching eyes and alien fingers . 
Suddenly Meg nudged him gently and he glanced in the rear view mirror .