She set her course for Grantlund Street, for she was going to see Coley again. He had to be in this time, because while it was one of his working nights it was still afternoon and he was not due at the taproom for some time yet. So she turned into the walk at 2267 and entered the house without ringing or knocking and went directly upstairs. And there, just locking the door of Coley’s apartment, apparently about to go out, was little Winston Whitfield.
He gave a guilty start when he looked up and saw Prin standing there.
“Hello,” said Prin.
“Go away, please,” said Winston. “I’m not to talk to you.”
“You’re not?” said Prin. “Who issued that decree, Winnie?”
“Coley.”
“Coley? You must have misunderstood him.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t,” said Winnie, beginning to get excited.
“But why?”
“Because you get on my nerves, Coley says.”
“I get on your nerves! Well, I like that. Wait till I lay my hands on that joker.” Then, being female, Prin asked curiously, “Do I get on your nerves, Winnie?”
Winston Whitfield’s excitement increased. “No,” he said. “Oh, no. Though you do make me feel kind of wiggly inside. Like one of my snakes.”
“So there. You see?” said Prin, feeling vindicated. “And, talking about your snakes, I’m really not afraid of them. I mean — well, I’m sure I could get used to them.”
“You could?” Winnie was entirely won back now; he was regarding her like a worshipful beagle. “I believe you. I like you much better than other girls. Could you like me, too? I suppose you couldn’t.”
“Why, Winnie, what an awful thing to say. Of course I like you.”
“Then can I come live with you and Coley?” Winnie asked eagerly.
“Well,” said Prin, not quite so warmly, “we’ll see.”
“Thank you, thank you! Wait till I tell Coley.”
“Where is Coley? Isn’t he in?”
“No.”
“Will he be back soon?”
“He didn’t say.”
“I think I’ll wait for him.”
“All right,” said Winnie. “Here, let me unlock the door — I was just on my way out—”
“Never mind, Winnie,” said Prin quickly. “I can wait here in the hall.”
“My snakes, eh?” asked Winnie with sorrow.
“No, no, Winnie. I just... prefer it.”
“All right,” said Winnie, shaking his head. “You’ll have to excuse me now. I’ve got to be going.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“I have to have a prescription refilled at the Star Pharmacy.”
“I didn’t know you were sick. You don’t look sick.”
“I’m not. I mean, it’s not the kind of sickness that makes you look sick. I mean, if you take your medicine regularly.”
“Why, Winnie,” said Prin with concern. “That sounds like a chronic condition of some kind. Your heart?”
“My sugar.”
“What?” said Prin.
“I spill sugar. I’m a diabetic. I used to have to take insulin by injection, but now they’ve got some kind of substitute for it you just swallow. It doesn’t work for everybody, but it works for me fine...”
When the street door banged downstairs, Prin sat down on the top step upstairs. She hoped she would not have to wait for Coley long, because she did not think she could bear too long a wait, sitting there with a sick heart looking down into the gloomy depths of the stairwell. So while she waited she thought and thought, and she thought so hard and so deeply that when Coley did come she did not know he was there until she found him staring straight into her eyes from a lower step.
“Oh, Coley,” Prin said.
“Hi, Princess,” Coley said briskly. “What’s up?”
“I have to talk to you,” Prin said. “There’s something I need to get settled in my mind.”
Coley sat down on the top step beside her and put his arm around her.
“Now is the time to settle it,” he said, “if ever.”
“Not right now,” she said, “and not here. You’ve got to come with me somewhere.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t want to go. I must go.”
“Why?”
“Will you come with me, Coley?”
“Of course, but why so mysterious?”
“It’s just that I’ll have to talk about it when we get there, and I’d rather not have to say this particular piece twice.”
“All right, Mystery Girl,” said Coley lightly; but his eyes were serious and puzzled and just a bit wary.
They rose together, his arm still around her.
Outside, they turned toward town, walking along under the tall old trees, drifting through sunshine and shade. It was one of those timeless afternoons filled with the lazy scents and sounds of summer. The kind of afternoon that always made Prin feel like a little girl fresh from her bath, wearing a newly ironed organdy dress and a big bright satin ribbon in her hair. It was strange that she should feel that way, for Prin could not remember ever having owned an organdy dress or a big bright satin ribbon during the childhood Royal O’Shea had made for her — could not really remember ever having been a little girl, for that matter.
She and Coley walked in silence, since they had agreed that nothing was to be said until they got to where they were going. But he took her hand and gripped it, and that was the way they walked to town, and through town to Cibola City Hall.
When Coley saw that they were going into Cibola City Hall, he let go of Prin’s hand. And when they were inside, at the door marked Cibola City Police Department, Coley stopped altogether.
“Why are we coming here?” he demanded.
“To see Lieutenant Grundy.”
“What for?”
“I told you, Coley. There’s something I have to say.”
“This is about your uncle, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand women at all! Why the sudden switch, Prin? Haven’t I protected your interests to your satisfaction? After all, I was the one who turned the tables on your aunt and that shyster and got back what they tried to steal from you.”
“I know you did, Coley,” said Prin softly, “and I’m grateful, I really am.”
“Then what’s this all about? Don’t you trust me any more?”
“It’s not a question of trust. It’s just that this is something I have to do all by myself, Coley. I’ve thought and thought about it, and my mind is made up. Won’t you please come on?”
“All right,” grumbled Coley. “But I warn you, you’re not going to find Grundy in a very understanding mood. Selwyn Fish just made a monkey out of him, and he knows it.”
“Lieutenant Grundy,” said Prin grimly, “will understand this.”
The desk sergeant showed them into Grundy’s office. The lieutenant, as Coley had predicted, did not seem in an understanding mood. In fact, he was sitting behind his desk wearing the blackest of scowls. For two days, after the district attorney had laughed in his face, he had tried to think of a way to nail Selwyn Fish for the crime Grundy knew he had committed; and he had failed. The district attorney was right. There was no evidence of crime to present to a grand jury. Slater O’Shea had told Coley Collins that he had made a will leaving everything to Princess O’Shea; and Selwyn Fish had produced a genuine will signed by Slater O’Shea, leaving everything to Princess O’Shea. For the existence of the fraudulent will leaving everything to Miss Lallie O’Shea there was only Grundy’s word that Selwyn Fish had told him about it, to which Fish had merely to enter a denial. And that the fraudulent will was now smoke and ashes flushed down a drain even Grundy had had to concede.