Black-Eyed Stranger by Charlotte Armstrong Page B

name?”
    Salisbury said, “Because of the dread.”
    Alan raised his brows.
    â€œLynch was afraid,” Salisbury said slowly, “and the name wasn’t essential, yesterday.”
    â€œOr,” said Alan skeptically, “those cryptic hints were dropped to confuse and mislead us.”
    â€œI d-don’t …” Salisbury stuttered. “You say it’s plausible that he is afraid. But you won’t grant he thought he was putting himself in danger.”
    Alan smiled. “Why would he put himself in danger?”
    â€œBecause he had a decent impulse.”
    â€œ That is out of character. I assure you.”
    So sure? thought Salisbury. Are we never out of character? Is there never anything wild, not named in the catalogue?
    â€œMy mind is open, of course,” said Alan, and Salisbury blinked. “I had better phone the agency. Better see what they can turn up on Ambielli. This may be helpful. May be important.” Alan had a bustling air.
    â€œI wish,” Salisbury shielded his eyes to hide alarm. “Alan, let it alone a day. I beg of you.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œIf they communicate with me … Don’t you understand?” Let it alone, he was thinking, because perhaps they haven’t hurt her yet. Don’t start up trouble and suspicion. Not now. Not yet.
    The young man was earnest. “Believe me, I no more want to risk … anything than you do, sir. I don’t feel it is a risk. Or that you realize how perfectly discreet these men can be. There won’t be any fanfare, or the ponderous movement of the department. Which, I agree, may have its spies. But I am sure—”
    â€œI am not so sure as you are,” Salisbury said sharply. “I want no risk. No added risk.”
    Alan pursed his lips together.
    Then Martha threw back her rumpled head. “Indulge us, Alan,” she said tartly.
    Alan said, gently, “I know how you feel. I do understand. How paralyzing it all is.” He squared his shoulders. “That’s always the hideous difficulty in these things.”
    â€œGood night,” she said abruptly. Both her hands held to her knitting bag.
    Charles Salisbury showed Alan out. When he came back, his wife was sitting with her eyes shut, holding in both her hands the piece of silk that had been hidden in her knitting bag. She said, “I’m glad we didn’t tell him.” Her eyes opened, and they were cloudy. “He makes me nervous.”
    â€œYes.”
    She said, “As if it were a case. A type of thing. Not Katherine.”
    Not, thought Salisbury in agony, the only Katherine in all time, all space, forever. He said, aloud, “I know.” He came and touched the purple-red scarf in her hands. It was the sign that had come with the message. It was their hope. “Another day,” he sighed.
    â€œI wish it were tonight. I wish the note had said tonight.”
    â€œNo, no. Don’t you see? They give me time, the daylight hours tomorrow, to get the cash. They want the money. That’s their only objective.”
    â€œYes, of course. Of course, Charles.”
    â€œSo they give me time to get the money. It’s reasonable.” He pretended.
    â€œYes. Yes, I do see.” She bowed her head to his reasoning. As they both must.
    He thought, ah, my brave love. And Thursday was gone, but it would be a long day, Friday.

Chapter 10
    IT was incredible that Thursday had gone by. Kay, wakening to day, thought, but this is Friday! How could it be? “Is it Friday? ” she said.
    â€œFar as I know, and Friday afternoon at that. Why don’t you sleep nights?” He was hoarse. As far as she knew, he hadn’t slept at all.
    She sat up angrily. “Because I’m looking for a chance to get away.”
    For a moment, his black eyes laughed at her. Then he told her soberly that there was no chance.
    â€œWhy not? Sam, let me.”
    â€œYou’re too