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«But you didn’t run to me at once and apologize,» I said, with what must have been an annoying touch of irony.

She refused the bait (and I was relieved at that, for it hadn’t come out the way I had intended). She said, «No, I wouldn’t have known where to find you, though it did occur to me I might get to you at the luncheon—as I did, you know. Meanwhile, I stayed there because Asimov amused me. Have you ever seen him sign autographs?»

«Yes,» I said unenthusiastically.

She smiled. «He’s such a feckless lecher. Pants indiscriminately after every girl who shows up. An absolute democrat, who pays no attention to race, creed, color, age—»

«Or previous condition of servitude,» I said. «I know. I guess it is fun the first time you watch it.»

«Yes, it is. He turns every statement, however innocent, into a heavy-handed double-entendre and manages it in so inoffensively self-delighted a way that somehow no one minds. He’s like a big puppy dog bouncing around and—»

I got her off the subject. «And you stayed there all the time till there was the fuss in connection with Giles?»

«Yes. And then I stayed on to the end because I was still feeling responsible for him and because I was afraid that something unpleasant might happen that would result in the kind of publicity that the hotel would not want.»

«You didn’t hear him say anything about me during that time?»

«No. Not then.»

«When did you hear it?»

«When the autographing session was over, he threw the pen he had been using against the wall. It hit and fell to the ground—»

«The red-ink pen?»

«I don’t know what kind it was, but he was clearly furious and perhaps out of control. He stood up and walked to the door. Some people tried to stop him and talk to him, but he paid no attention. It seemed to me he was swaying and I was afraid he would collapse. My feeling of responsibility overcame me again so that I followed after him quietly, took his arm, and led him to the elevators.»

«And what happened then?»

«As we were walking to the elevators, I asked him if he wanted to stop at the cloakroom for his package and he said, ‘Too late.’ And then, in a kind of whisper, ‘That Darius. That Darius Just.’ He said it with such hatred that it just chilled me. There was a homicidal edge to his voice, and even though he struck me as being a child, he’s such a physically large man and you’re so—»

«Small?» I suggested when her hesitation had grown perceptible.

She hurried on. «I felt you ought to be warned.»

«But you didn’t run and warn me right then, did you?»

«As I told you, there was no way I could have found you then. Besides that, I had to take him up to his room.»

«And what happened when you did that? Did you leave him there? Did you walk in with him? What?»

Now she was in trouble. She took to shuffling some of the papers on her desk. Then she looked up and said, in a small voice, «I’ve told you everything that’s important.»

I said, «Why not just lie to me and tell me you took him to his room and walked away without entering?»

«How do you know that would be a lie?»

«Because I’ve discovered things about Giles. We can be reasonably sure that he was left frustrated by the events of the night before, and there had been no relief since then. The failure to get the package, the fiasco at the autographing session, must all have accentuated the needs he felt. I am quite certain that even if you wanted to leave him in his room, you wouldn’t have been able to. He took you by the arm, didn’t he, and drew you in. And what could you do: he’s so large and you’re so—small.»

She said miserably, «Yes, he drew me in.»

«And once he had you in, he began to cry and then he asked you to undress him and give him a bath.»

She looked me straight in the eye and said bitterly, «You know, then. You’ve lived with him. Does he do it all the time? And he’s never tried to get help?»

I shrugged. «My living with him has nothing to do with it. I just found out about this yesterday. And why should he get help? If he finds a girl who doesn’t mind cooperating, who’s hurt?»

She didn’t say anything and, after a few moments, I asked, in a flat, quiet voice, «Did you cooperate?»

She rose from her chair so she could lean toward me and for the first time I saw her actively angry. «No, I did not. When he told me what he wanted, I left.»

«You couldn’t have left, if he tried to stop you.»

«He didn’t try to stop me. I left quickly, in a hurry. I was near the door—and out. He couldn’t have moved fast enough to stop me.»

«I see.»

Sarah said thoughtfully, «I suppose that woman the night before had also refused.»

«Yes, she had.»

«And that’s it.»

«Is it?» I said. «You got him up to his room after the autographing session. Shall we say eleven-ten?»

«About that.»

«And you came to the luncheon and warned me of Giles’s anger with me at about one o’clock, nearly two hours later.»

«I couldn’t have found you immediately. Did you expect me to wander about the hotel aimlessly, trying to meet you by chance?»

«What did you do during those two hours?»

«I was in my office. I had plenty to do.»

«Who saw you there?»

«No one. My receptionist was out. It was Memorial Day, remember?»

«You have no alibi.»

«Why would I need one?» Her eyes were fixed on mine and I could see the anger surge upward again.

«Your story is unsupported,» I said. «Giles said he slept all that night and was not with a woman, and if he said so, as you reported he did, I would believe him. But I have only your report to that effect. I have only your report as to what happened before and what happened after the autographing session. You could be lying.»

«Lying? What do you imagine did happen?»

«You’re a small woman,» I said easily, lounging back on the couch, «but a dominating one. You run a department here with authority and you’re used to putting down large men. You may even like it. Now, here was a large man who wanted to be dominated. You might have stayed with him all night. Or, if not.»—I waved aside the beginning of an angry statement from Sarah—«and I admit it sounds unlikely, then you might well have helped him out Monday morning, especially afterward.»

Sarah was back in control. «Go on,» she said out of tight lips.

«You said you had been feeling responsible for him all morning. You led him by the arm back to his room, felt sorry for him, and might even have enjoyed undressing him and bathing him. There’s no harm in it. Two consenting adults and all that.»

«I see. And if so, what are you getting at?»

«Why, if so, you might well have been there when he died.» I sat up suddenly, and said sharply, «What happened?»

And it was as though all the anger died in her at once and washed out. She laughed in complete good humor and said, «That’s funny.» Then she laughed again.

I began to feel foolish. «What’s funny?»

«The way you did that. Sitting up suddenly like a schoolteacher who was going to trap me into saying something I didn’t want to say.»

«But you’re not answering.»

She said, in total good nature, «Because there’s nothing to say. You don’t really believe I’m lying. You’re just testing me and, I assure you, I pass. I brought him up about eleven-ten a.m. and it couldn’t have been much past eleven-fifteen when I left, eleven-twenty at the outside. I left him there crying, poor fellow, but I assure you I had nothing more to do with him than I have told you. Of course—»