Sands told her to take it back. Then he waited while Miss Evans reconstructed her face.
She was new to the job, she told him. She had come only two weeks ago and didn’t know who had been there before her. She just took letters. No, she simply couldn’t remember what letters and Mr. Stevens said carbon copies weren’t necessary.
No, she hadn’t ever worked in a broker’s office before. She thought it was funny. There didn’t seem to be much doing.
Her salary? Forty a week in advance. She had been suspicious of that at first, but Mr. Stevens hadn’t made any passes at her at all. Sands left Miss Evans pondering her twin sorrows, no fox cape and no passes.
The plane hit another air pocket and Sands clutched his stomach and stopped thinking for the rest of the trip. He was conscious only of being conscious and of finding it unpleasant.
At the Shane residence the family and guests were starting to retire for the night although it was only half-past ten. Aspasia’s bones had worn themselves out sending her premonitions of evil and were now frankly aching. She retired to her room with a hot-water bottle and a nembutal capsule prescribed by Prye. Mrs. Shane followed her sister upstairs.
The others were still sitting around the drawing room. Dinah was telling Jane, in a voice which reached Revel very clearly, that she was a damned fool if she ever got married.
Jane yawned, apologized, and promptly yawned again.
“Of course if you’re bored, Jane,” Dinah said coldly.
“Oh no, I’m not bored,” Jane said with some truth.
“I am,” Revel said dryly. “I find bad taste boring.”
Nora and Prye looked up from their game of double Canfield and started talking simultaneously to preserve peace.
“Why don’t we—?”
“Couldn’t you—?”
They stopped.
Dinah was scowling at them. “Back to your game, turtledoves. Revel and I are going to bat some home truths around the room.”
Revel shrugged. “Anything to oblige. Let’s get rid of the women and children first.” He glanced significantly at Jane.
“Oh, I’m not a bit sleepy,” she said brightly. “Really I’m not.”
Dinah switched her scowl to Jane. “Darling, if your ears get any bigger you’ll take off. Beat it.”
“You’d better,” Nora said. “I’ll go with you.”
Jane repeated obstinately that she wasn’t a bit sleepy, but Nora led her out of the room.
Prye remained at the card table, shuffling cards absently and watching Dinah out of the comer of his eye. She was standing in front of the fireplace, her hands clenched at her sides.
Revel sat down, sighing audibly. Neither of them spoke for some time. Then Revel said, “I don’t want to quarrel with you, Dinah.”
His voice was very gentle. Dinah’s hands unclenched and she looked as if she wanted to cry. She clutched the mantel to steady herself.
“Your voice,” she said. “When I’m ninety I’ll remember your voice and the way you’ve deliberately used it to soften me, to make a fool of me—”
“No,” Revel said.
“—and God knows it was easy enough, wasn’t it? Me! You could even fool me. How did you talk to your tarts, Revel? Same way?”
“There weren’t any tarts,” Revel said. “There were girls, nice girls some of them. I used to talk to them about you.”
“Just quiet, cozy evenings between the sheets. God, you are a rat, Revel.”
“I am an ordinary man,” Revel said, “who had a wife who didn’t love him.”
“How could I possibly hate you so much if I hadn’t loved you? I’ve got so much hate for you I’m almost happy.”
“You cried every night on our honeymoon, remember? I left you alone; I thought you’d get over it. Instead you got worse—”
“You’ve made me hate all men, George.”
“You always did,” Revel said.
“The best of them is still a louse to me because you’re a louse. Dennis was no better than the rest of you. I knew what he was but I was going to marry him anyway. I was going to get back at all men by marrying him.”
Revel said, “Stop talking. You’re only feeding your hate. I’m sorry for you, Dinah.”
Her whole body was shaking. “Don’t be sorry for me. All I want now is revenge, and I’m going to have it. I’ve got enough strength in me to fight you all.”
Revel said nothing. There was nothing to say. He watched her in silence as she walked out of the room.
Sammy Twist had started out early. He took a streetcar along Bloor West and got off at River Road.
He felt better walking up the street. The wind was fresh and free and whipped his coat and sent the blood coursing through his body. He walked with the wind, feeling full of courage and very adventurous.
At a quarter to eleven he stood on the street outside 197 and looked up at the house. He was early. He wasn’t to knock at the back door until eleven o’clock.
The first floor was dark, but lights were showing in two rooms on the second floor and one on the third.
“Knock on the back door at eleven o’clock,” the wind whistled.
Sammy stepped into the driveway and walked toward the back of the house. As he watched the lights went off on the second floor. He stood beside the garage and lit a cigarette, shielding the match with his hands.
“Ask for Mr. Williams,” the leaves whispered.
He began to wonder about Mr. Williams. Did he five here? And what did he want?
“I want to give you some more money. You did fine.”
I did fine, Sammy thought; he said I did fine.
Sammy’s hands were beginning to get cold. He threw away his cigarette and rubbed his hands together. He was a little afraid now, because he realized for the first time that if Mr. Williams had just wanted to give him some more money he could have sent it by mail or messenger.
“Have you still got my letter? Bring it along with you.”
Sammy started to walk away, slowly, a little ashamed of this sudden fear. Why, it wasn’t even really dark on account of the street lights.
“I’ll be waiting for you!”
But still his heart kept pounding in his ears, deafening him, and the fear had crept down into his legs and made them cold and heavy...
At one o’clock his landlady got up out of bed and turned off the hall light. She knew Mr. Twist wasn’t in yet and she was quite sad when she climbed back in bed. Mr. Twist was so young to get mixed up with a woman. Horses were bad enough.
12
George Revel had gone up to his room shortly after Dinah retired, but at one o’clock he rapped on Prye’s door.
Prye groaned, yawned, and turned on the light. When he opened the door he said bitterly, “Don’t I see enough of you in the daytime? Do you have to stalk me at night? Come in.”
Revel came in and sat down on the edge of the bed. His face looked very pale in contrast with his bright red-plaid pajamas and bathrobe. When he lit a cigarette Prye saw that his hands were shaking.
He can’t sleep, Prye thought, and he’s cracking. Our smooth friend Revel is cracking.
“You’re not a policeman,” Revel said in his even, emotionless voice. “How much can I tell you without telling Sands?”
“That depends,” Prye said, “on the tale. If you’re going to confess to two murders, don’t.”
“I’m not going to confess to anything,” Revel said dryly.
“Then go away and let me sleep. Why in hell people pick me as an audience for their life stories—”
“But I might give you a chance to add two and two on the condition that when you get four you do not tell Sands that I helped you. Let him think you’re an intuitive genius. Leave me out of it.”