"You are, huh? He ain't going anywhere."
"Very well. He needs rest and medical attention. I've said so. These gentlemen are my witnesses. And I'll tell you something, Summers-" He slammed on his hat. "Don't betoo surprised if you find them testifying against you on a charge of murder by criminal neglect."
"Pshaw." The sheriff's eyes wavered. "How come he gets around like he's been doin' if he's so sick? You can't tell me-"
"I could but I doubt that you'd understand… Coming, Phil?"
Well…
I went to the clinic.
The doctor checked me over from head to foot, shaking his head and grunting now and then in a kind of baffled way. Then he gave me a shot glass of some yellowish stuff, and three hypodermic injections, one in each hip and the other right over my heart; and I went to sleep.
But Sheriff Summers still hadn't given up. He posted a deputy on my door at the clinic that night. And the next morning, around eleven, he came in and threw some more questions at me.
He didn't look like he'd got much sleep. I'd have bet dough that Mrs. Summers had eaten him out to a fare-you-well.
He was still at it, going through the motions of playing cop, when Kendall showed up. Kendall spoke to him pleasantly. He suggested that they take a little walk, and they left together.
I grinned and lighted a cigarette. Kendall was starting to earn his money, if he hadn't already earned it. It was the first real chance he'd had to get the sheriff alone.
The next thing he'd do, now…
The rest and the stuff the doctor had given me seemed to have perked me up quite a bit. And I guess a guy always fights best just before he's through fighting. I didn't think I could beat The Man-no one ever beat The Man-but I figured I could give him plenty of trouble. It might be a year or two before he could hunt me down, and if I could hold out that long… well. Maybe I could find the place or the thing or whatever it was I'd always been looking for,
I had almost five hundred dollars-more in the bank in Arizona, but I might as well forget about that. With five hundred bucks and a good car-and there was a drop in Philly where I could turn that car fast for another one-well, it was worth a try. I couldn't lose anything.
… It was almost two o'clock when Kendall came back. And! was sure of what he was going to say, but he led into it so gradually that I almost got unsure.
Mrs. Winroy had gone to New York, he said. Her sister had taken sick and she'd had to leave suddenly.
"Poor woman. I've never seen her quite so agitated."
"That's too bad," I said, wanting to laugh so bad it hurt me. She'd probably worry herself to death before they could get to her. "When is she coming back?"
"She wasn't able to say. I gathered, however, that it might be quite some time."
"Well," I said, "that's certainly too bad."
"Yes. Particularly with nothing better than Winroy to depend on. I wanted to talk to him-straighten out our accounts since Mrs. Winroy isn't available, but Ruthie hasn't seen anything of him since lunchtime and he's not at his shop. I suppose, now that the last restraining influence is gone, he intends to get drunk and stay drunk."
I nodded. And waited. He went on.
"An awkward situation. Poor Ruthie; it's really a tragedy in her case. There's no other place she can get a job, and, with Mrs. Winroy gone indefinitely, she can't stay there. I'd like to help her, but-uh-a man my age, giving financial assistance to a girl who obviously could not repay it I'm afraid it would do her more harm than good."
"She's dropping out of school?"
"I'm afraid there's no alternative. She seems to be bearing up very well, I'm happy to say."
"Well," I said. "It looks like we-like you'll have to be finding another place to live."
"Uh, yes. Yes, I suppose I will. Uh-er-incidentally, Mr. Bigelow, the sheriff is satisfied to-uh-abandon this Winroy matter. I've brought your clothes from the bakery, your pay to date also since it seemed doubtful in view of your health, and-uh-the situation in general-that you would care to continue there."
"I see," I said. "I understand."
"About Sheriff Summers, Mr. Bigelow. His attitude is by no means as compromising as I would like to have it. I suspect that he would need only the slightest pretext, if any, to-uh-cause you serious embarrassment."
I thought it over; rather I appeared to be thinking it over. I laughed, kind of hurt, and said, "It looks like I'm out of luck all the way around, Mr. Kendall. No place to live. No job. The sheriff all set to make trouble. The-I don't suppose the college will be exactly happy to have me around either."
"Well-uh-as a matter of fact-"
"It's all right," I said. "I don't blame them a bit."
He shook his head sympathetically, clucking his tongue a few times. Then he looked up sharply, eyes sparkling, and came out with it. As though it had just then popped into his mind.
"Mr. Bigelow! This may turn out to be a stroke of good fortune in disguise! You can go up to my place in Canada for a few months, use the time for studying and rebuilding your health. Then, when all this business is forgotten-"
"Gosh," I said. "You mean you'd still be willing to-?"
"Certainly, I would! Now, most of all. Of course, we'll have to see what the doctor has to say about you, but-"
… The doctor didn't like it much. He fussed quite a bit, particularly when he found out that I wanted to leave town that day. But Kendall fussed right back, calling him a pessimist and so on. Then he took him to one side, explaining, I guess, that I didn't have much choice about leaving. So…
We drove to the house in Kendall's car, me driving since he didn't like to. He asked me if I'd mind driving Ruthie to her folks' farm on my way, and I said I wouldn't mind at all.
I stopped in front of the house, and we stood at the side of the car for a few minutes, talking but not getting much said.
"By the way, Mr. Bigelow," he said, hesitantly, "I know I've seemed inexcusably dictatorial during our all too brief acquaintance. I'm sure there must have been a great many times when you must have felt like telling me to mind my own business."
"Oh, no," I said. "Not at all, Mr. Kendall."
"Oh, yes." He smiled at me. "And I'm afraid my reasons were extremely selfish ones. Do you believe in immortality, Mr. Bigelow? In the broadest sense of the word, that is? Well, let me simply say then that I seem to have done almost none of the many things which I had planned on doing in this tearful vale. They are still there in me, waiting to be done, yet the span of time for their doing has been exhausted. I… But listen to me, will you?" He chuckled embarrassedly, his eyes blinking behind their glasses. "I didn't think myself capable of such absurd poeticism!"
"That's all right," I said, slowly, and a kind of chill crept over me. "What do you mean your span-"
I was looking straight into him, through him and out the other side, and all I could see was a prim, fussy old guy. That was all I could see, because that was all there was to see. He wasn't working for The Man. He never had been.
"… so little time, Mr. Bigelow. None to waste on preliminaries. Everything that could be done for you had to be done quickly."