“I hope you’re satisfied!” Llona said nastily.
“That about sums it up. Satisfied. A hollow apple would have served as well.”
“Thank goodness Pierre doesn’t have to resort to hollow apples!” Spite made Llona blurt it out; it was more vindictive than she really meant to be.
“What? What was that?!”
“You heard me!”
“I heard you all right!” Archer’s fury broke. “That did it! I’m damned if I’m going to stay here and be a cuckold!” Archer scrambled from the bed. “No tramp is going to make a fool out of me!” He pulled on his clothes and rummaged through the closet until he found a suit- case.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“That’s none of your goddam business!” Archer pulled drawers from the bureau and flung socks and underwear into the suitcase.
“Archer, I was angry. I didn’t really mean—”
“You go straight to hell!” The door slammed behind him and then it was very quiet.
It stayed very quiet for what seemed like a long time. Then Llona broke the silence. She broke it with sobs, with a weeping that was half anger and half regret. Once started, it was as if a Niagara had been unleashed. Hour merged into hour and still she continued to cry. She might have gone on forever if the telephone hadn’t rung.
Archer! That was the first thing Llona thought as she dived for the phone. Archer! That was the second thing Llona thought, and it kept her from picking it up on the first ring. Don’t make it too easy for him! her mind cautioned. Archer! The hell with that! Archer! She grabbed it on the third ring.
“Hello?” Despite herself, Llona’s yoice was breathless.
“Hello, Mrs. Hornsby?” The man’s voice was unfamiliar.
“Yes?” Llona glanced at the clock. It was after four a.m. Llona felt the start of panic in the bottom of her stomach. “Yes? What is it?”
“Mrs. Hornsby, you don’t know me. I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but this is an emergency. There’s been an --”
“Who is this?” Llona interrupted him, trying to get hold of herself.
“My name is Pierre Strongfellow . . . Hello? . . . Are you there? . . . Did you hear me? . . .I said my name is Pierre Strongfellow and --”
“I heard you,” Llona said, dazed. “Pierre Strongfellow!”
CHAPTER FOUR
“There’s been a slight accident and I think you’d better—”
“An accident?” Llona felt dizzy.
“That’s right. I’m down here at—”
“Pierre Strongfellow? Is that really your name?”
“Of course it is.”
“But it can’t be.” Llona was firm.
“Why not?”
“Because I made it up.”
“You made what up?” Now the man on the other end of the phone sounded confused.
“The name. Pierre Strongfellow. I made it up.”
“Well, I don’t like to argue with a lady, particularly under these circumstances, but it’s been my name for almost thirty years.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Llona insisted.
“I admit it’s an unusual name, but I don’t see anything ridiculous about it.” He sounded offended.
“I’m sorry.” Llona apologized. “But what do you want? It’s four o’c1ock in the morning.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you. There’s been an accident. I’m afraid your husband’s been hurt.”
“Archer?” Llona was panicky. “What happened? Is he all right?”
“Well, he will be. It’s not that serious. It’s just that he has a broken—”
“Is he alive? Tell me the truth! Oh, God--!”
“Now calm yourself, Mrs. Hornsby. He’s alive. And he’s going to be all right, too. The doctors say it’s only a minor break.”
“What? What did he break? How did it hap-?”
“His leg. It’s his left leg that’s broken. But he’s going to be all right.”
“But how? What happened?”
“It’s an awfully long story, Mrs. Hornsby. It’s pretty involved and I’m not sure I understand it myself. As a matter of fact, I know I don’t. I think it would be best if you came down here to the hospital and I’ll explain what I can. Besides, when he comes to, I expect he’ll be anxious to see you.”
“Comes to? You mean he’s unconscious? Oh! Poor Archer!”
“Now it’s just a minor concussion. The doctors are sure of that, Mrs. Hornsby. So why don’t you just come down here and see for yourself. You’ll feel better when you see it’s not too bad.”
“Yes. Of course.” Llona got hold of herself. “What hospital? Where is it?”
Pierre Strongfellow gave her the information. “I’ll be waiting here for you,” he assured her, and then hung up.
Llona dressed quickly, frantically. She was fortunate in spotting a cruising cab a few minutes after she started up the street. Twenty minutes later she got out at the hospital, paid the driver and ran up the steps of the hospital entrance. The receptionist directed her to the emergency ward.
The man who greeted her in the anteroom was wearing evening dress. He was a bit over six feet tall with a leathery, outdoorsy face that was craggily handsome. He looked like he had the muscles to back up the face, but his manner was smooth and polite.
“Mrs. Hornsby?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes. I’m Mrs. Hornsby,” Llona replied.
“I’m Pierre Strongfellow.” He took her hand and bent to kiss it.
“How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you. I imagine you’re concerned about your husband. He’s in there.” Strongfellow pointed. “But I don’t believe he’s regained consciousness yet. Nothing to worry about though. The doctors assure me he’ll be all right. You can see him if you want.”
“I want,” Llona decided.
She went "through the doorway Strongfellow had indicated and found Archer lying in a hospital bed. His leg was raised and held in position by some sort of pulley contraption. There were bruises on his face and a very large welt on one side of his jaw. He was unconscious.
A nurse sat beside the bed. Llona turned to her. “How is he?” she asked.
“He’s all right. They’ll be moving him just as soon as they get a room ready. Can’t keep him in emergency, you know. It’s just a leg fracture and he’s still out from the sock in the jaw.”
“Sock in the jaw? Who—?”
“I think that good-looking man outside laid it on And he probably fractured the leg when he fell.”
“But why—?”
“You’ll have to ask him that.” The nurse jerked her thumb toward the anteroom.
“I will,” Llona said grimly. “I certainly will!”
“Yeah. You do that.” The nurse was disinterested.
“Do you think he’ll regain consciousness soon?”
“Search me. He’s also pretty loaded, you know. Best thing is for him to sleep it off. You don’t have to worry though. The doctors x-rayed him and there’s no damage to his noggin. Just a minor concussion.”
“Thank you.” Llona went back into the anteroom and straight up to the waiting Strongfellow. “Why did you beat up my husband?” she demanded.
“I didn’t beat him up. I just --”
“The hell you didn’t!” It had been a long, hard night, and Llona was distraught.
“Now look, Mrs. Hornsby, I feel just awful about this. But it really wasn’t my fault. If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll try to explain.”
“All right. Explain.”
“Okay. It was about two-thirty this morning. I’d had kind of a rough night making the big name clubs. It’s my job, you see. Anyway, by this time I’d done my duty and I just wanted to relax. So I’d dropped into this dive-—well, maybe not exactly a dive, but off the beaten track, you know?—with the four girls. We created quite a stir, I guess, what with the girls in these sexy evening gowns, and being so well stacked and all. Anyway, I’d just ordered drinks when --”