She said, “Do you like being rich?”
He was a little startled. “Why, sure,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“You know, money means so much to some people. To me, it doesn’t mean anything at all. Once I saw a man with a hundred-dollar bill. I had never seen a bill like that before. He was awfully pleased with himself.”
Denny laughed. He put his hand behind him and pulled out a big wallet from his hip pocket. “Ever seen a thousand-dollar bill?” he asked, opening his case. “And I don’t look so pleased with myself, do I?”
He opened the wallet and took out a fat packet of currency. He had eight one thousand-dollar bills and a number of hundred-dollar bills. Stella went very white. “Oh,” she said, “put it away. Don’t let—”
Gerda said softly from behind them: “It’s there. Enough money to live on for months. To go down Lincoln Road and buy what you want. To go to Dache’s or Miller’s. To eat at Allen’s. Miami would kneel to us.”
Denny spun round, snapping the wallet shut. “Where the hell did you come from?” he asked.
Gerda stood looking at him, her green eyes like bits of glass, without expression, shiny and hard. “You are a very fortunate man, Mr. Merlin,” she said. “I am going to bed now. Perhaps by tomorrow the storm will be over. We shall go our different ways soon afterwards. I don’t think I shall ever forget you.” She went to the door and then turned. “I should come too, Stella,” she said. “Mr. Merlin will want to sleep. Good night,” and she went out, shutting the door behind her.
Denny looked at Stella. “What did she mean—never forget me?”
Stella was still looking very pale. “I don’t know,” she said: “I wish I did.”
There was silence but for the howl of the wind, then Denny forced a laugh. “She’s gone to bed, anyway. Will you have another drink?”
Stella shook her head, and made as if to rise to her feet, but Denny stopped her. “Don’t go,” he said. “You know, I was hoping that we should be left alone. I want to talk to you. I want to hear your voice. Look, let’s be comfortable.” He got up and switched out the light. The room was lit only by the fire. He came and sat down close to her. “Isn’t that rather nice?” he asked, putting a glass into her hand. “Come on, drink up. After all, the evening is still very young and we might be here for days. We ought to get to know each other.”
Stella put the glass down on the table beside her. “I must go,” she said. “Really, Mr. Merlin, I can’t stay with you. It’s—it’s not right.”
“Can’t you call me Denny? Isn’t this rather thrilling to meet as we have and to be sheltering from a hurricane in someone else’s house, before a fire, like this? Listen, Stella, it is like a fairy tale. It can’t be treated like any other day.”
“Oh, I know, Denny, but I shouldn’t really be here. Gerda will be wondering—”
He slid his arm along the back of the settee behind her head and leant over her. “Do you mind what Gerda’s thinking?” he asked. “Can’t you let time stand still for an hour? Let me tell you that I love you. That you are the most lovely thing in this ugly world. You make this hurricane seem thin and pale beside your beauty. Look at me, Stella, can’t we go into fairyland together just for an hour? Can’t we forget that you are you and I am I? Won’t you leave this world and come with me?” He drew her towards him, and pale, almost fainting with fear, Stella relaxed against him.
Denny touched her lips with his and then, as he felt them yield to him, he caught her to him urgently. He was deaf to the storm raging outside and blind to reason. Stella affected him like no other woman had ever affected him. He slid his hand into her open wrap and eased it off her shoulders.
In the firelight he could see her whiteness and he drew her down on the settee, pushing her back so that he was leaning right over her. He lowered his face against the coolness of her breasts and he groaned softly with the ecstasy of the moment.
Gerda, coming into the room like a dark shadow, stole up behind them. The firelight reflected in her fixed staring eyes, and Stella, looking over Denny’s shoulder, bit back a scream of fear as she saw Gerda’s hand suddenly sweep up, holding something that glittered.
Stella tried to push Denny away, but already the glittering thing was coming down swiftly and Denny relaxed limply on her with a choking cough. With a wild scream, Stella pushed him on to the floor and scrambled up.
“What have you done?” she screamed at Gerda. “What have you done?” She stumbled over to the lamp and turned it on.
Gerda was standing over Denny, her face white and hard. She said, without looking at Stella, “Shut up! Don’t make a sound.”
Denny rolled over on his side and struggled up on his elbow. A long, thin-bladed table-knife was driven deeply into his neck. Stella could see the silver handle protruding, and she pressed her hands against her mouth in horror.
Blood began to flow over Denny’s white shirt and run on to the carpet. He touched the handle with his hand as if he couldn’t believe that this had happened to him. He said in a very low, choked voice, “Did you do it?” to Gerda.
Gerda didn’t say anything. She was watching the red ribbon running on to the cream carpet.
“Couldn’t you have left me alone?” Denny said. “My God, I was a fool to have had anything to do with you two. It was the money, I suppose. I didn’t think you were as bad as that. Do you think it will do you any good? Don’t stand there looking at me. Get me a doctor. Do you want me to bleed to death?”
“Yes,” Stella said wildly, “get him a doctor, for God’s sake!”
Gerda just said, “Shut up!” and drew away from Denny with a little grimace of disgust.
“Do you want me to die?” Denny said, panic coming into his eyes. “Help me! Don’t stand staring. Help me, you bitch! Can’t you see I’m bleeding to death?”
Stella threw herself on the settee and began to scream wildly. Outside, the wind continued to roar and the rain drummed on the roof.
Gerda took a quick step forward and struck Stella across her face. Stella fell back, her mouth open, but silent. “I said shut up,” Gerda said harshly. “Do you understand?”
Making a terrific effort, Denny crawled on to his knees and then levered himself upright. He stood holding on to the back of a chair, making a sobbing noise in his throat. “Help me, Stella,” he gasped. “Don’t let me die, Stella—help me.”
He put his hand on the knife and tried to pull it out, but the sudden wave of pain was too much, and he fell on to his knees.
Stella scrambled off the settee and ran out of the room. She came back a moment later with a towel. “Here,” she said frantically to Gerda, “stop him bleeding.”
Gerda snatched the towel from her savagely and went over to Denny. She took hold of the hilt of the knife and jerked it out of the wound. Denny gave a high-pitched cry like the whinnying of a horse. Blood welled out of him in a scarlet stream. He fell forward on his face and clawed at the stained carpet. He writhed for a moment, then relaxed limply. Blood continued to gush from the wound until eventually it ceased.
The two girls stood watching him. Stella, in horror, unable to move or to take her eyes from him, and Gerda hard, inscrutable and cold.
She said: “He’s dead now. You’d better go into the kitchen.”
Stella ran to her. “You mustn’t. I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to take that money. You killed him for it, didn’t you?”
“It’s no use to him now,” Gerda said. “Go into the other room, or I shall be angry with you.”
Stella hid her face in her hands and stumbled out of the room. The noise of the hurricane rose to a terrific crescendo as she slammed the door behind her.
Gerda didn’t hesitate. She stepped round Denny very carefully, avoiding the blood on the carpet, and pulled the wallet from his hip pocket. She took the eight-thousand bills and the rest of the small notes and put the wallet back in his pocket. She stood for a moment looking at the notes, then she closed her fingers over them tightly and heaved a great sigh. At last, she thought, I am free. Nothing matters now. I can live as I want to live. She didn’t think of the dead man for one moment.