Mason turned back toward the place where Mrs. Kempton was lying.
As he did so the whole room rocked under the impact of a terrific weight which was hurled against the door.
Then, for a moment, there was silence. A framed painting on the corridor wall, which had been pushed out by the impact, thudded back into place.
There was a half-second of silence, and then suddenly the impact against the door was renewed. This time the door crashed from its hinges and exploded inward into the room.
Standing in the doorway, glowering at Mason was the big gorilla the lawyer had seen at the end of the corridor.
Mason tried using his voice. “Just a minute, boy,” he said. “Steady. Take it easy now.”
The gorilla stood perfectly motionless, looking directly at Mason. The bulk of the big desk prevented the animal from seeing Mrs. Kempton sprawled on the floor, just as it had prevented Mason from seeing her.
It was a tense moment. Mason could hear the pounding of his own heart, could see the gorilla watching him with keen eyes that took in every move, every detail of Mason’s appearance.
“Take it easy, boy,” Mason said.
The gorilla moved forward, putting one of its feet on the smashed, splintered doorway, then abruptly withdrawing it as though thinking better of it. The animal’s long arms were thrust forward, the knuckles of the left forearm resting lightly on the splintered doorway, the right arm clinging to the wrecked doorjamb.
Mason tried to hold the animal with his eyes.
For a long moment neither moved.
Mason started talking, striving to keep his voice natural. “I don’t know what the devil to say to you under the circumstances,” Mason said, addressing the gorilla. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I have an idea that if I advance I’m going to get killed, and if I retreat I’m sure I’ll get killed. If I stand here without doing anything, I’m simply building up a tension and...”
Abruptly Mason became conscious of Mrs. Kempton’s voice from the floor, a voice that was weak but edged with urgency.
“Don’t look at him, Mr. Mason,” she warned. “Crouch down on the floor and start doing something, anything. Take some coins from your pocket, a knife, a watch, anything that glitters. Start arranging them in patterns.”
Mason, with his eyes still on the gorilla, said over his shoulder, “Are you all right? I was afraid you...”
“Never mind about me, do as I say. Hurry!”
Mason heard Mrs. Kempton stir behind him, struggling to a sitting position.
Mason had some loose coins in his right-hand trouser pocket. He pulled them out and started arranging them in a haphazard design on the floor, bending over the coins in complete concentration.
After a moment Mason was conscious that the gorilla had moved another step forward, sensed that the animal was peering down at the coins Mason was arranging with such careful precision.
Mrs. Kempton managed to get to a sitting position, then to her knees. “Haven’t you something else?” she asked. “A gold pencil, a watch? Anything.”
Mason unbuckled his wrist watch, placed in on the floor in the center of the circle of coins, noticing as he did so that it was now exactly five and one half minutes since he had left Della Street at the doorway. If she followed instructions she should now be headed for a telephone, calling the police.
“Now then,” Mrs. Kempton said, “back away slowly, keeping your eyes on the coins. Don’t look at the gorilla. Back away. Back away slowly. When you do that he’ll come forward and try to find out what you were doing. He’ll be curious. He’ll start playing with the objects you’ve left on the floor — I hope.”
Mason straightened to his feet.
“Don’t look at the gorilla,” she warned.
Mason continued to stare down at the assortment of coins and the wrist watch on the floor.
“Keep backing away,” she said. “Back away slowly over toward me.”
Mason followed instructions.
He felt her hand on his arm, felt her weight for a moment as she used his arm as support to pull herself to her feet.
The gorilla, his eyes fastened on the assortment of objects on the floor, moved forward and bent down over the coins just as Mason had done.
“Quick,” she said, “but don’t run. Walk quietly, firmly, and with a great deal of assurance. Leave him there with that problem to puzzle over. Come quickly.”
Mason said, “What’s happened? What...?”
“I don’t know. Let’s get out of here first. Our lives are in danger. That gorilla is dangerous. If he ever thinks we’re afraid of him, if he ever thinks we’re running away from him — oh, please, come!”
“There’s a dead man on the bed,” Mason said.
“I know,” she told him. “Benjamin Addicks. He’s been stabbed.”
“Who stabbed him?”
“Don’t talk now. Just follow me, please.”
She led the way around the bed to a bathroom. “In here, quick.”
She closed and locked that door, opened a door at the other end of the bathroom which opened on a communicating bedroom.
“Hurry,” she said.
She was running now, leading the way.
Mason kept pace with her.
“Will that gorilla...?”
“Heaven knows what that gorilla will do,” she said. “You can’t tell what’s going to happen. Gorillas are unpredictable anyway, and these animals have been subjected to psychiatric experiments. They’re nervously unstable.”
“What in the world are you doing here?”
“I’ll tell you later on.”
She had crossed the room now and stood listening at a door. She opened this door, put her head out, glanced quickly from side to side, said in a whisper, “I think the coast is clear. We’re going to have to cross this corridor and go down the stairs to the front reception room — I think you’d better take off your shoes.”
Mason slipped his shoes off and was aware that Mrs. Kempton also had removed her shoes while she was talking.
“We’ll run,” she said, “but we don’t want them to know we’re running. If they hear the sound of running feet, if there’s any sign of panic — it’s going to be too bad.”
She stepped out into the corridor. Mason was at her side. Together they reached the winding staircase which led down to the reception hallway where Mason had been given his first glimpse of the interior of the house.
Abruptly Mason realized that for some time now he had been conscious of a background of noise, which now resolved itself into the steady wailing of sirens, an almost hysterical barking of police dogs. Suddenly the barking rose to a crescendo, and then abruptly ceased in a chorus of yelps, the sound being similar to that made by a dog that has been hit a glancing blow by an automobile.
“What’s that?” Mason asked.
“I tell you I don’t know,” she said. “We’ve got to get out of here! We’ve got to get out of here!”
She led the way down the stairs, across the reception corridor. Mason moved toward the front door.
“No, no, not that way,” she said.
She crossed through another room, through a dining room, a serving pantry, a kitchen, said, “we’ve got to take a chance on this. This is a doorway that leads to the zoo. Heaven knows whether any of those animals are back.”
She opened the door.
Mason stepped past her into the corridor, saw that the doors on the vacant cages were still swung open. Apparently no animals were loose in the corridor.
“Come on,” Mason said, and led the way at a run.
“Watch out for that gorilla,” she warned.
They paused to put on their shoes. Mason veered over so that he was brushing against the wall.
Once more, as he passed the cage, the gorilla flung himself in a savage leap that was arrested by the bars of the cage.