"Oh, God, Doc!" Bud said. "A guy like you!"
"What in the name of heaven are you two bloody fools thinking?" asked the Doctor. "What are you trying to say?"
"A spring!" said Bud. "I ought to have known right away it wasn't any spring."
The Doctor looked at his cement-work, at the pick, at the large worried faces of his two friends. His own face turned livid. "Am I crazy?" he said. "Or are you? You suggest that I've that Irene my wife oh, go on! Get out! Yes, go and get the sheriff. Tell him to come here and start digging. You get out!"
Bud and Buck looked at each other, shifted their feet, and stood still again.
"Go on," said the Doctor.
"I don't know," said Bud.
"It's not as if he didn't have the provocation," Buck said.
"God knows," Bud said.
"God knows," Buck said. "You know. I know. The whole town knows. But try telling it to a jury."
The Doctor put his hand to his head. "What's that?" he said. "What is it? Now what are you saying? What do you mean?"
"If this ain't being on the spot!" said Buck. "Doc, you can see how it is. It takes some thinking. We've been friends right from the start. Damn good friends."
"But we've got to think," said Bud. "It's serious. Provocation or not, there's a law in the land. There's such a thing as being an accomplice."
"You were talking provocation," said the Doctor.
"You're right," said Buck. "And you're our friend. And if ever it could be called justified "
"We've got to fix this somehow," said Bud.
"Justified?" said the Doctor.
"You were bound to get wised up sooner or later," said Buck.
"We could have told you," said Bud. "Only what the hell?"
"We could," said Buck. "And we nearly did. Five years ago. Before ever you married her. You hadn't been here six months, but we sort of cottoned to you. Thought of giving you a hint. Spoke about it. Remember, Bud?"
Bud nodded. "Funny," he said. "I came right out in the open about that Jessop property. I wouldn't let you buy that, Doc. But getting married, that's something else again. We could have told you."
"We're that much responsible," Buck said.
"I'm fifty," said the Doctor. "I suppose it's pretty old for Irene."
"If you was Johnny Weissmuller at the age of twenty-one, it wouldn't make any difference," said Buck.
"I know a lot of people think she's not exactly a perfect wife," said the Doctor. "Maybe she's not. She's young. She's full of life."
"Oh, skip it!" said Buck sharply, looking at the raw cement. "Skip it, Doc, for God's sake,"
The Doctor brushed his hand across his face. "Not everybody wants the same thing," he said. "I'm a sort of dry fellow. I don't open up very easily. Irene you'd call her gay."
"You said it," said Buck.
"She's no housekeeper," said the Doctor. "I know it. But that's not the only thing a man wants. She's enjoyed herself."
"Yeah," said Buck. "She did."
"That's what I love," said the Doctor. "Because I'm not that way myself. She's not very deep, mentally. All right. Say she's stupid. I don't care. Lazy. No system. Well, I've got plenty of system. She's enjoyed herself. It's beautiful. It's innocent. Like a child."
"Yes. If that was all," Buck said.
"But," said the Doctor, turning his eyes full on him, "you seem to know there was more."
"Everybody knows it," said Buck.
"A decent, straightforward guy comes to a place like this and marries the town floozy," Bud said bitterly. "And nobody'll tell him. Everybody just watches."
"And laughs," said Buck. "You and me, Bud, as well as the rest."
"We told her to watch her step," said Bud. "We warned her."
"Everybody warned her," said Buck. "But people get fed up. When it got to truck-drivers "
"It was never us, Doc," said Bud, earnestly. "Not after you came along, anyway."
"The town'll be on your side," said Buck.
"That won't mean much when the case comes to trial in the county seat," said Bud.
"Oh!" cried the Doctor, suddenly. "What shall I do? What shall I do?"
"It's up to you, Bud," said Buck. "I can't turn him in."
"Take it easy, Doc," said Bud. "Calm down. Look, Buck. When we came in here the street was empty, wasn't it?"
"I guess so," said Buck. "Anyway, nobody saw us come down cellar."
"And we haven't been down," Bud said, addressing himself forcefully to the Doctor. "Get that, Doc? We shouted upstairs, hung around a minute or two, and cleared out. But we never came down into this cellar."
"I wish you hadn't," the Doctor said heavily.
"All you have to do is say Irene went out for a walk and never came back," said Buck. "Bud and I can swear we saw her headed out of town with a fellow in a well, say in a Buick sedan. Everybody'll believe that, all right. We'll fix it. But later. Now we'd better scram."
"And remember, now. Stick to it. We never came down here and we haven't seen you today," said Bud. "So long!"
Buck and Bud ascended the steps, moving with a rather absurd degree of caution. "You'd better get that . . . that thing covered up," Buck said over his shoulder.
Left alone, the Doctor sat down on an empty box, holding his head with both hands. He was still sitting like this when the porch door slammed again. This time he did not start. He listened. The house door opened and closed. A voice cried, "Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo! I'm back."
The Doctor rose slowly to his feet. "I'm down here, Irene!" he called.
The cellar door opened. A young woman stood at the head of the steps. "Can you beat it?" she said. "I missed the damn train."
"Oh!" said the Doctor. "Did you come back across the field?"
"Yes, like a fool," she said. "I could have hitched a ride and caught the train up the line. Only I didn't think. If you'd run me over to the junction, I could still make it."
"Maybe," said the Doctor. "Did you meet anyone coming back?"
"Not a soul," she said. "Aren't you finished with that old job yet?"
"I'm afraid I'll have to take it all up again," said the Doctor. "Come down here, my dear, and I'11 show you."
EVENING PRIMROSE
In a pad of Highlife Bond, bought by Miss Sadie Brodribb at Bracey's for 25c
MARCH 21 Today I made my decision. I would turn my back for good and all upon the bourgeois world that hates a poet. I would leave, get out, break away
And I have done it. I am free! Free as the mote that dances in the sunbeam! Free as a house-fly crossing first-class in the largest of luxury liners! Free as my verse! Free as the food I shall eat, the paper I write upon, the lamb's-wool-lined softly slithering slippers I shall wear.
This morning I had not so much as a car-fare. Now I am here, on velvet. You are itching to learn of this haven; you would like to organize trips here, spoil it, send your relations-in-law, perhaps even come yourself. After all, this journal will hardly fall into your hands till I am dead. I'll tell you.
I am at Bracey's Giant Emporium, as happy as a mouse in the middle of an immense cheese, and the world shall know me no more.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now, secure behind a towering pile of carpets, in a corner-nook which I propose to line with eiderdowns, angora vestments, and the Cleopatraean tops in pillows. I shall be cosy.
I nipped into this sanctuary late this afternoon, and soon heard the dying footfalls of closing time. From now on, my only effort will be to dodge the night-watchman. Poets can dodge.
I have already made my first mouse-like exploration. I tiptoed as far as the stationery department, and, timid, darted back with only these writing materials, the poet's first need. Now I shall lay them aside, and seek other necessities : food, wine, the soft furniture of my couch, and a natty smoking-jacket. This place stimulates me. I shall write here.
DAWN, NEXT DAY I suppose no one in the world was ever more astonished and overwhelmed than I have been tonight. It is unbelievable. Yet I believe it. How interesting life is when things get like that!