This was interesting, of course, but not business. “That’ll be one-sixty please, at ten cents a mile.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Hattie demanded. “I’m not going to pay you. You didn’t take anyone any place—”
“What’s going on down there?” Professor Frost appeared at the head of the stairs.
Hattie and the cabdriver explained simultaneously.
“That’s enough, Hattie. Tell Susan to pay him.”
“Miss Susan isn’t here. She went out a while ago.”
A two-dollar bill fluttered down the steps. Hattie eyed the driver malevolently as he deposited it in his pocket and went out. She locked the door behind him. Professor Frost was still standing at the head of the stairs, and she said uncertainly:
“Anything wrong, sir?”
He shook his head but he didn’t move away. His cheek was swollen and slightly blue, and he looked grouchy, Hattie thought. She returned thoughtfully to the chaste passions of Lady Amelia struggling in the arms of the mad poet Pearce.
Tom Little groaned and stretched his arms above his head. He looked at his watch and said, “My God.”
In the next room Jennie laid down her crocheting and got to her feet. Her eyes were hostile but she said respectfully enough: “Did you want something, Mr. Little?”
“Have there been any calls for me?”
“No sir. The telephone rang but it wasn’t our ring.”
He sat up straight in his chair and stared at her out of bloodshot eyes. “You’re positive?”
“I know our ring when I hear it,” she said shortly.
“Is my wife asleep?”
Jennie nodded.
He rose with exaggerated nonchalance. “I think I’ll take a walk. I feel dopey. Don’t wait up for me.”
He buttoned his coat and went out, and Jennie turned off the lights. She watched for him from her window, but she could see nothing.
At eleven o’clock Prye woke up and raised his head and Nora said: “Lie down. That’s the least you can do.”
“Oh, you’re still here?” Prye tried to grin but it wasn’t worth the effort. “I had no idea you were so devoted. By the way, thanks for finding me.”
“It was nothing at all,” Nora said politely. “I often find people lying half-dead in the woods, especially if they don’t mind their own business. Who hit you?”
“I forgot to ask. I am becoming more and more careless.”
“You didn’t see anyone at all?”
“That’s right.”
She was silent a minute, frowning.
“Joan’s hair is yellow,” she said finally. “Did you smell anything?”
“The usual smells. Grass. Trees. Damp earth.”
“Perfume?”
“No perfume.”
“That’s funny. She reeks of perfume,” Nora said thoughtfully. “She could have hidden her hair under a cap. No, she wouldn’t have. If she hit you she’d want you to know about it. I don’t think she’d care about being caught or arrested. She’s never tried to conceal anything and she gets away with it every time.”
Prye ran his fingers around the bandages on his head. “Neat work. I hope you thanked Miss Alfonse prettily.”
“I did not. Did you ask her not to call the police?”
“I never thought of the police,” Prye said. “But I can easily understand why Miss Alfonse did.”
“Why?”
“You have your little mysteries, Nora. Miss Alfonse is mine.”
“You may have her,” Nora said. “I’m scared of her. She’s creepy.”
Miss Alfonse certainly did not look creepy at the moment. She was clad in serviceable broadcloth pajamas and an old wool dressing gown. She had been arguing with Miss Bonner for some time and she was tired.
“You have nothing to report to the police,” she said again. “If Miss Frost has done any damage, she will have to pay for it.”
“I want her locked up,” Miss Bonner said. “I want her behind bars so I know where she is and what she’s doing. I don’t care how late it is. The police don’t keep office hours.”
Alfonse attempted a tolerant smile, but it was not a success. Her voice was sharp. “They have to sleep. Even I have to sleep, Miss Bonner. I shall phone the police if you insist.”
“I insist,” Emily said grimly.
“Very well.”
Alfonse walked out of the door, closed it behind her, and went to bed.
Horace had stopped howling, but he lay with his nose pressed against the crack of the front door, whining intermittently.
“What’s the matter with you, Horace?” Mr. Smith said angrily. “Do you want out?”
Horace did. Mr. Smith put on a coat and snapped a leash on Horace’s collar. They were gone only a short time. When they came back Mr. Smith was looking quite pale. It did not take him long to pack, and within an hour he was roaring up the road in his car, with Horace curled up asleep in the back seat.
All the houses were dark by that time, and all the residents were asleep, except one who was dead.
Chapter Five
At eight o’clock on Tuesday morning, August the second, Dr. Prye started groggily out of bed and began to dress before Nora could appear with a number of good reasons why he should not. He took a half-grain of codeine to dispel the strong conviction that his head was falling off, and then looked in the mirror to make sure it hadn’t already fallen off.
It was still there, noticeably so. Miss Alfonse had been thorough. The bandages covered his head like a turban, and since this made him resemble a Hindu, he carried out the motif by winding a bright yellow scarf over the bandages, and went down to breakfast.
When Prye entered the kitchen Nora was at the stove frying bacon, and she did not turn around. She said coldly over her shoulder:
“I suppose you think you’re surprising me? Well, you’re not. Once a damn fool always a damn fool.”
“Oh, good morning, Nora,” Prye said, pulling out a chair from the table. “Could that bacon be for me?”
“Certainly,” Nora said bitterly. “I never eat when I know there’s going to be a death in the house.”
She flipped the bacon out of the pan, set the plate in front of Prye, and eyed the yellow scarf coldly. “Disguise? Or a new idea from Esquire? Or is that crack in your skull deeper than I thought?”
Prye crunched bacon. “As a matter of fact, I’m going visiting this morning.”
“Over my dead body,” Nora said.
“If necessary, over your dead body. Since I don’t want to alarm anyone I thought I’d camouflage the bandages.”
“Why go visiting at all? You managed to stir up trouble quite nicely yesterday just by staying at home and perhaps you’ll do even better today.”
“I believe,” Prye said thoughtfully, “that I stirred up more than you realize. Or rather you did.”
“I did!” Nora protested.
“You did. You see, the trouble occurred when I was taking you home. There aren’t any jealous rivals hovering around, are there?”
“Hundreds. The line forms on the left.”
“I asked a serious question.”
“Well, it’s a lousy one,” Nora said warmly. “If I say yes, you’ll think I’m conceited; and if I say no, you’ll think I should have had enough pride to say yes. Well, pride’s not my strong suit. I say no. No rivals.”
“In that case I was assaulted for myself alone.”
“That’s what I figured,” Nora said demurely.
“But who, I ask you, wants to assault me? What have I done? Nothing.”
“Don’t be modest.”
“So,” he went on, ignoring her, “I came to the conclusion that I was put out of the way because I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Suppose two people had arranged to meet in that grove of birches—”