enough now to drown out the sound of footsteps, and what the professor had been saying was much too absorbing to allow any straying of interest on the part of listeners or speaker. Apparently it had been interesting to Marta, too. She came forward into the study, her small fists clenched in anger and her eyes fired with contempt.
“You’ll never rest, will you?” she challenged. “You’ll never let us alone!”
The words, the eyes, the anger were all for a stunned Professor Dawes. She didn’t even seem aware of Lisa or Johnny now.
“I knew you were here,” she added. “I heard someone calling Miss Bancroft when she was out by the ruins. I could see from the house—”
“Then you
were
playing—”
Lisa’s question was ignored. Marta hadn’t come to discuss music.
“I knew you’d come around trying to get her to start trouble for us. I told you that day—” Now Marta looked at Lisa. The anger was still there. “I told you in the tearoom to leave me out of your book about my father!”
“We haven’t been discussing a book,” Lisa said.
“I’ll bet you haven’t! You’ve been discussing Joel and me! You’ve been digging up those old, horrible lies! And they are lies, all of them. I never got a penny of that money. I never saw those checks, and I don’t know where the money went!”
Lisa started to rise from the desk. There was far too much anger in Marta to go unleashed. She looked at Johnny, hoping for some matter-of-fact statement that would bring reason back to the room; but Johnny was too enthralled with the scene to respond. Instead of reason, something more disturbing than Marta came into the room. With the ultimate of ill-timing, Carrie Hokum appeared in the doorway, and her statement wasn’t at all what was needed.
“Don’t you believe her!” Carrie snapped. “Don’t you believe anything that spoiled hellcat says! She knows all right!”
“Carrie!”
But Carrie didn’t respond to cues. Lisa might as well have saved her breath.
“She knows plenty, that one,” she cried. “She knows why that poor Mr. Gleason shot himself, and she knows why the other one fell down the stairs.”
“Be quiet!” Marta ordered.
“I don’t have to be quiet. She knows all right, Professor, and I know, too. I was working up at the big house the day it happened. I heard them fussin’ and fightin’ upstairs.”
“Be quiet!” Marta cried again.
“And she knows what happened to old Mr. Hubbard’s medicine, and why old Claude Humphrey got put away! She’s a bad one, I tell you. She’s got a curse on her. She’s a bad—”
Carrie didn’t get any further. She didn’t finish her tirade or even explain those two new accusations. Lisa saw it happen right before her eyes—saw Marta’s hand reach down for the paperweight on the desk, saw her arm and body draw back in preparation, and then it was done too quickly for anyone to stop.
“You witch! You terrible, lying old witch!”
The words and the paperweight were hurled simultaneously. And then everything was quiet—especially Carrie.
CHAPTER 10
It was a direct hit. The paperweight struck Carrie on the forehead. She fell to the floor with no more protest than a barely audible groan, and didn’t move again. All was very still in the room until Professor Dawes, the first of a horror-stricken group to return to mobility, crossed quickly to the doorway and knelt beside her. At that instant, Johnny regained speech long enough for one accusing word.
“You—!” she gasped.
Marta’s face was chalk-white. She shrank back toward the windows.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t meant to hurt her!”
It was the cry of a child. She might have been all of five years old. The professor didn’t even look at her.
“Miss Johnson, I think you had better call a doctor. Ask the operator for Dr. Hazlitt’s residence. He’ll surely be home at this hour.”
“Is it bad?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t know. I think it’s a
“You’ll never rest, will you?” she challenged. “You’ll never let us alone!”
The words, the eyes, the anger were all for a stunned Professor Dawes. She didn’t even seem aware of Lisa or Johnny now.
“I knew you were here,” she added. “I heard someone calling Miss Bancroft when she was out by the ruins. I could see from the house—”
“Then you
were
playing—”
Lisa’s question was ignored. Marta hadn’t come to discuss music.
“I knew you’d come around trying to get her to start trouble for us. I told you that day—” Now Marta looked at Lisa. The anger was still there. “I told you in the tearoom to leave me out of your book about my father!”
“We haven’t been discussing a book,” Lisa said.
“I’ll bet you haven’t! You’ve been discussing Joel and me! You’ve been digging up those old, horrible lies! And they are lies, all of them. I never got a penny of that money. I never saw those checks, and I don’t know where the money went!”
Lisa started to rise from the desk. There was far too much anger in Marta to go unleashed. She looked at Johnny, hoping for some matter-of-fact statement that would bring reason back to the room; but Johnny was too enthralled with the scene to respond. Instead of reason, something more disturbing than Marta came into the room. With the ultimate of ill-timing, Carrie Hokum appeared in the doorway, and her statement wasn’t at all what was needed.
“Don’t you believe her!” Carrie snapped. “Don’t you believe anything that spoiled hellcat says! She knows all right!”
“Carrie!”
But Carrie didn’t respond to cues. Lisa might as well have saved her breath.
“She knows plenty, that one,” she cried. “She knows why that poor Mr. Gleason shot himself, and she knows why the other one fell down the stairs.”
“Be quiet!” Marta ordered.
“I don’t have to be quiet. She knows all right, Professor, and I know, too. I was working up at the big house the day it happened. I heard them fussin’ and fightin’ upstairs.”
“Be quiet!” Marta cried again.
“And she knows what happened to old Mr. Hubbard’s medicine, and why old Claude Humphrey got put away! She’s a bad one, I tell you. She’s got a curse on her. She’s a bad—”
Carrie didn’t get any further. She didn’t finish her tirade or even explain those two new accusations. Lisa saw it happen right before her eyes—saw Marta’s hand reach down for the paperweight on the desk, saw her arm and body draw back in preparation, and then it was done too quickly for anyone to stop.
“You witch! You terrible, lying old witch!”
The words and the paperweight were hurled simultaneously. And then everything was quiet—especially Carrie.
CHAPTER 10
It was a direct hit. The paperweight struck Carrie on the forehead. She fell to the floor with no more protest than a barely audible groan, and didn’t move again. All was very still in the room until Professor Dawes, the first of a horror-stricken group to return to mobility, crossed quickly to the doorway and knelt beside her. At that instant, Johnny regained speech long enough for one accusing word.
“You—!” she gasped.
Marta’s face was chalk-white. She shrank back toward the windows.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t meant to hurt her!”
It was the cry of a child. She might have been all of five years old. The professor didn’t even look at her.
“Miss Johnson, I think you had better call a doctor. Ask the operator for Dr. Hazlitt’s residence. He’ll surely be home at this hour.”
“Is it bad?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t know. I think it’s a
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