“Rot. You’re crazy yourself.”
“The mental battle to reconcile your passion with your conscience and sense of duty toward Lucy has addled your wits completely. Jealous of me! Bill, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“Jealous!” Bill laughed bitterly. “As for you, I don’t mind giving you a bit of friendly advice. With all your self-confidence, you’re still just a male. Watch yourself with that girl. She’ll make as big a sucker of you as she made out of me.”
“Emotionally, you’ve gone back to a vernal seventeen, my son. The trouble with you is that you can’t recognize your own symptoms. Don’t tell me you don’t dream about her. You can’t forget that moment in the dark when she kissed you. You’re all tied up in knots and you’re fighting yourself twenty-four hours a day. I’ve had my eye on you from afar since the trial. Bill, you’re an ass.”
“I don’t know why I’m listening to you,” said Bill savagely.
“It doesn’t take a Freud to see what’s making the wheels spin so crazily. And your analysis, therefore, of a ‘professional interest’ in Andrea is just as adolescent.”
“In love. Why, I despise every inch of that—”
“Of course you do,” grinned Ellery. “But I haven’t come here to lecture on the intricacies of the tender passion. Let me explain matters and give you a chance to apologize.”
“I’ve heard enough—”
“Sit down! When Lucy was convicted in Trenton one thing stood out so prominently as to overshadow everything else. That was Andrea’s peculiar behavior — before, during, and after her session on the stand. It set me to thinking.” Bill grunted derisively. “My thoughts led me to certain conclusions. My conclusions led me to cultivate the girl. There was nothing else I could do; all other leads had failed. I’ve checked and rechecked every angle of the case; I’ve found nothing suspicious anywhere, and everything’s wound up at a blank wall.”
Bill frowned. “What the devil could you hope to accomplish by taking her out? You can’t blame me if I thought—”
“Ah, we’re rational again. As a matter of fact, my assiduous devotion to the young lady has worried more than your own noble ego. Mrs. Gimball — I should say Jessica Borden — is on the verge of prostration, Senator Frueh is frothing at the mouth, and Finch is chewing his immaculate fingernails. As for young Jones, from last reports he’s been trying to kill some of his polo ponies. Excellent! Exactly what I wanted. I’ve accomplished something.”
Bill shook his head. “I’ll be jiggered if I see what.”
Ellery pulled a chair over to the bed, “Answer my questions first. What are you doing in New York?”
“Cleaning up.” Bill lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Going through the motions. After the trial I made a demand payment of the National Life by filing the usual proof-of-death form. Just a gesture, of course. The National ignored the formal demand, refusing in effect to pay the face value of the policy on the ground that the beneficiary had been convicted of the murder of the insured.”
“I see.”
“The company notified Gimball’s executor — some bigwig friend of the family — that they were prepared to pay over to him for the Gimball estate the cash-surrender value of the policy on release of all future claims. I understand that’s already been done.”
“The conviction invalidates the policy?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“And how’s the appeal going?”
“We’ve forced New Jersey to finance it; I suppose you’ve read that in the papers. I’ve managed on various technical grounds to delay matters; it will be next year before final action is taken. Meanwhile,” Bill’s face darkened, “Lucy’s in Trenton. Better than the Pen.” He scowled at the ceiling. Then he said: “What was the idea of bringing her...?”
“Who?”
“The — damn it all, all right! Andrea!”
“Look here, Bill,” said Ellery quietly. “Why was Andrea so terrified at the thought of going on the witness-stand?”
“Blessed if I know. Her testimony certainly didn’t bring out anything of a damaging or significant nature.”
“That’s approximately true. It makes her reluctance even more astonishing. It couldn’t have been, of course, that she was so averse to revealing that she had visited the scene of the crime. That aversion may have motivated her in keeping mum about the visit before we dug it out, but it wouldn’t have when you asked her to testify. In fact, she had every reason to accede to your wishes.”
Bill sneered. “Yes, she had!”
“Stop being a child. The girl likes you — I shan’t sicken you by employing a stronger term.” Bill colored. “She felt sorry for Lucy—”
“An act! She was playing me—”
“You’re more sensible than that remark indicates, Bill. She’s a fine lassie; there’s good solid stuff in her that her environment hasn’t been able to spoil. And she’s not a hypocrite. Under normal circumstances she should have been glad, as I say, to help Lucy. Instead... well, you saw how she acted.”
“She wouldn’t do anything for us. She’s on the other side of the fence. She’s sore at both of us because of Gimball.”
“Nonsense. She was the only one that night at the shack to show any sign of human sympathy toward Lucy.”
Bill plucked at the white spread, pinching it, smoothing it down, pinching it again. “All right. What’s the answer?”
Ellery went to the window. “What would you say has been her predominant emotion since the business of her visit to the shack came out?”
“Fear.”
“Exactly. Fear of what?”
“I wish I knew,” growled Bill.
Ellery came back and gripped the footrail of the bed. “Obviously, fear of telling her story. Now, why should she be afraid of that?” Bill shrugged; he was pinching the spread again. “Don’t you see that it’s fear not from inside that poor girl, but from outside? Fear under pressure? Fear induced by threats?”
“Threats?” Bill blinked.
“You’ve forgotten that charred cork.”
“Threats!” Bill was on his feet; it was astonishing how his eyes had brightened with hope. “Good Lord, Ellery. I never — Poor kid!” He began to walk up and down before the bed, muttering to himself.
Ellery gave him a quizzical look. “L’affaire marche, I see. It’s been evident to me for some time. It’s the only theory that takes all the facts, physical and psychological, into consideration. She wanted to help you; yet she couldn’t bring herself to it. If you had seen that girl’s face the night... Well, you didn’t; you’re blind as a bat, anyway. She’s been through hell. Why should she submit herself to such torture unless it were an ulterior fear that kept her silent? It’s fear clearly not for herself, you see.”
“So that’s why—”
“The problem admitted of a crude sort of analysis. If she had been threatened by someone — warned to keep her mouth shut — it was obvious that the threatener was afraid of something within her power to disclose. My course of action was therefore dictated to me. By monopolizing her time, I tended to accomplish two things: one, to play on her better nature so that she would finally disclose what she knew despite everything. Two,” Ellery blew a quick puff of smoke, “to force the hand of the person who had threatened her!”
Bill said swiftly: “But, Ellery, that means—”
“That means,” murmured Ellery, “that I’ve plunged Andrea into danger. Quite true.”
“But you’ve no right to!”
“The tune changes. Up in arms in her defense already?” Ellery chuckled. “Well, we mustn’t take personalities into account, Bill. Whoever’s warned Andrea must know by this time that I’ve been cultivating her acquaintance. They know my interest in this case. They will be wondering what I’ve managed to accomplish with the girl. They’ll be nervous. In a word, they’ll take action.”