Bill stood there with his arms about Andrea’s silk-sheathed legs, blushing like a boy and every once in a while plucking at her skirt to keep it decently covering her. Ellery soaked more napkins and applied them to her bare chest. He lifted them off and slapped them down again, sharply.
“What’s the idea?” asked Bill from dry lips.
“Simple enough. Head low, feet high — get the blood rushing to the brain. Restore circulation. It’s a method,” grunted Ellery, “that I learned from a chap by the name of Holmes some years ago. Young surgeon. My father was the victim then — it was more of an emergency in that case, considering dad’s age. The case of those Siamese twins, remember?”
Bill said in a strangled voice: “Oh, yes. Oh, yes.” He kept looking at the darkening sky.
“Keep those legs of hers elevated! There... How’s that, young lady? The position isn’t especially recommended by Miss Agatha’s Dancing School, but I believe you’ll come around in a moment.” Ellery changed napkins on her chest. “Hmm. There was something else. What in thunder was it, now? Yes! Artificial respiration. Blessed if it wasn’t one of the most important parts of the treatment!” He thrust his hand under the napkin rolled about the girl’s face and by main force opened her jaws. His hand knocked the napkin off, revealing a face already a little less pale, and dripping wet. “Pshaw! Well, it did its work; let it lie.” With a grimace he pulled her tongue out. Then he stooped over her torso and began to pump her arms up and down.
Bill said with a feeble grin, “It’s something out of Rube Goldberg.”
And Andrea suddenly opened her eyes to the sky.
Bill stood there stupidly, still holding her legs high and gaping down at her. Ellery put his arm under her head and raised it. Her eyes, bewildered at first, rolled about and then fixed on Bill.
“There,” said Ellery with satisfaction. “How’s that for a perfect job by Dr Queen? It’s all right, Andrea; you’re with friends again.”
Awareness rapidly filled her bloodshot eyes. Her cheeks stained with crimson. She gasped, “What are you doing?”
Bill still gaped. “For heaven’s sake,” snapped Ellery, “put her legs down, Bill! What do you think this is, anyway?” Bill dropped them as if they burned. They fell with a thud, and she winced at the shock.
“Oh, you fool!” groaned Ellery. “Fat lot of help you are. Take it easy, Andrea. Sit up, now... There! Feel better?”
“I’m so dizzy.” She sat up, Ellery’s arm still supporting her, and touched her forehead. “What happened? Oh, I’m filthy!” Her glance went from the pail to the unclean napkins strewn about the gravel, and then to herself. Her stockings were torn at the knees, her suit was plastered with wet dust, and her hands were smudged in a dozen places. Then she looked down at her chest.
“Oh,” she gasped, and with a snatching gesture covered herself with the lapels of the suit. “I’m — you — did you—”
“You are, and we did,” said Ellery cheerfully. “It’s all right, Andrea; Bill didn’t look, and I’m virtually sexless. The important thing is that we pulled you out of that stupor. How do you feel?”
She smiled wryly. “Rotten. Sick as the deuce. My stomach feels as if somebody had been punching it for an hour.”
“That’s the effect of the chloroform. It will pass soon.”
She glanced, still blushing, at Bill. He had turned his broad back and was staring with remarkable interest at a weather-beaten and quite illegible billboard across the road. “Bill,” she whispered. “Bill Angell.”
His shoulders jerked. “I’m sorry about the other day,” he said abruptly, without turning.
She sighed and leaned back against Ellery’s arm. “That was the other day.”
He swung about. “Andrea—”
“Don’t talk, please.” She closed her eyes. “Just let me — let me pull myself together. Everything’s so mixed up now.”
“Damn it, Andrea, I’ve been a fool.”
The air chilled a little as dusk deepened. “You?” Andrea smiled rather bitterly. “If you’ve been a fool, Bill, what have I been?”
“I’m glad,” remarked Ellery, “that you’ve both saved me the trouble of characterizing you.”
“It was a trap.” He felt her stiffen against his arm. “The wire—”
“We know all about the wire. What happened?”
She jumped up suddenly. “Mother! I must get to Mother—”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of now, Andrea. The telegram was a hoax; it wasn’t sent by your mother, obviously. It was meant to lure you here.”
She shivered. “Take me to Mother, please.”
“Didn’t you drive down?”
“No. I came by train and walked from the station. Please.”
“Surely,” said Ellery, “you’ve something to tell us now, Andrea?”
Her hand went to her lips, leaving a smudge. “I–I’d rather think things over first.”
Ellery stared at her. Then he said lightly, “My car’s a two-seater, you know. Rumbleseat’s working, though, if you—”
“I’ll sit in the rumbleseat,” said Bill thickly.
“I’m sure,” said Andrea, “we can all three sit—”
“Would you rather sit on Bill’s lap or mine?”
“I’ll drive,” said Bill.
“Not you,” said Ellery. “Nobody drives this car but Dr. Queen. I’m afraid you’re stuck, Andrea. I’ve been told by habitués that Bill’s is the most uncomfortable lap in the world.”
Bill strode off; his back was stiff. And Andrea plucked at her hair and said softly, “I’ll take a chance.”
Ellery drove with a negligent air, whistling. Bill sat like a lump beside him, his hands at his sides. Andrea was very quiet on Bill’s lap. There was no conversation; only occasionally Andrea murmured a direction to Ellery. The car bounced around rather more than seemed necessary; for some reason Ellery seemed unable to resist the smallest bump in the road.
Andrea joined them in the sloping gardens within fifteen minutes of their arrival. She had changed from her dusty clothing into something cool and pastel, of indeterminate color in the dusk. She sat down in a basketwork chair and for a moment none of them said anything. The gardens still exuded a moist warmth, aftermath of the gardener’s hose and the afternoon sun, soothing their tired skins as the scent of the flower-beds about them filled their nostrils. Below and far away the waters of the Sound were deep blue velvet, gently restless. It was quiet and peaceful. Andrea leaned back and said, “Mother’s not here. I’m glad.”
“Not here?” Ellery frowned slightly over his pipe.
“She’s off visiting the Carews, old friends. I’ve warned the servants not to say anything about... the way I came here. There’s no point in alarming her.”
“Of course not... You remind me of the heroine in one of those careless movies, Andrea. Finding a fresh wardrobe so conveniently!”
She smiled, too tired to answer. But Bill said in tones hardened by the tension of his throat, “Well?”
She did not reply at once, looking up into the cool heart of a tree. A catfooted man materialized among them balancing a tray on which were three tall frosty glasses. An assistant bore a table, linen. For a moment they were busy; then they were gone. Inexplicably Andrea sipped once, set her glass down, and rose to begin a drifting patrol before them, moving from bush to flower-cluster, her face always turned from them.
“Andrea,” said Ellery patiently, “hasn’t the time come?”
Bill sat forward gripping his glass; he did not stir thereafter. His eyes were magnetized by the languid course of the girl. Andrea’s fingers jerked, snapping the long stem of a gladiolus. She whirled about, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Oh, I’m so tired of keeping it to myself!” she cried. “It’s been such a nightmare. If I had to choke it back another day I think I’d go completely mad. You don’t know, you can’t know the torture I’ve been through. It wasn’t fair; it isn’t right!”