I Would Rather Stay Poor by James Hadley Chase

into the hall. He rushed her across the hall to the foot of the stairs and gave her a push for ward, starting her up the stairs as Major Hardy appeared in the doorway of the lounge.
    Calvin began taking off his coat, ignoring the major, watch ing Kit stumbling up the stairs. Then when she reached the head of the stairs and was out of sight, he called after her, ‘Alice I think you should go to bed. I’ll tell Kit to come up to you.’
    He waited for the rehearsed ‘yes’, but it didn’t come. He listened to her stumbling up the other flight of stairs to her room.
    ‘Something wrong?’ the major asked.
    Before turning, Calvin composed his expression The effort he had to make to appear relaxed brought sweat out on his hands.
    ‘She’s a bit under the weather ,’ he said. ‘She has a bad head ache and so on … one of these women’s things.’
    The major, who was a bachelor, looked wise.
    ‘It happens t o them al l, the poor things,’ he said. ‘Best in bed.’
    ‘Yes.’
    Calvin went up to hi s room . He hurriedly washed his sweat ing face and hands, then he went into Kit’s room.
    She was lying face down on her bed, breathing heavily. He stood over her, aware that in less than half an hour she would have an important r ol e to play and aware that at the moment she was incapable of playing it. She was still drunk. He had to get her sober. He wanted to grab her by her hair and slap her face until she sobered up, but he realised his hand would leave tell-tale marks which the old couple couldn’t fail to see.
    He moved closer, then putting his hand on the back of her head, he pressed her face into the pillow. He began to spank her, viciously and violently until his hand felt burning and bruised. He muffled her screams by keeping her face forced into the pillow, and finally, after he had beaten her until his arm began to tire, he r el eased her, dragging her over on her back and standing over her, his eyes glittering, as he stared down at her.
    She lay motionless, her face contorted with pain, but her eyes clear and sober.
    ‘Are you all right now?’ Calvin demanded, br eath ing heavily. ‘Have you sobered up?’
    She drew in a long shuddering breath, then she closed her eyes, nodding.
    ‘Okay. Now get up and put some make-up on. You look like he l l. I’m going down. You know what to do and say. We’ve gone over it enough times.’ He leaned over her, his expression vicious. ‘Do you know what to do?’
    Opening her eyes, she suddenly spat in his face. The hatred in her eyes startled him. His hand swung back to slap her, but he controlled himself. Instead, he wiped his face with the back of h is hand and grinned at her. His grip was vicious and confident.
    ‘If you still have the guts to do that after that beating, you can go through with this,’ he said. ‘Three hundred thousand dollars! Remember that! Three hundred thousand dollars!’
    He left her and went downstairs into the lounge.
    The major was reading the newly arrived Reader’s Digest. Miss Pearson was knitting a blue and white scarf she had promised the major for his birthday. They both looked up inquiringly as Calvin came in.
    ‘Is Alice unwell?’ Miss Pearson asked.
    ‘A headache,’ Calvin said. ‘She has gone to bed. She’ll be all right tomorrow. Does anyone know what’s for dinner?’ With an effort he switched on his charm. ‘I’m hungry.’
    The major smiled with the smug satisfaction of someone who has access to important inside in formation.
    ‘I asked Flo … it’s pot roast.’
    While they were finishing dinner, Kit came in. Calvin looked sharply at her. Although she looked tired, there was now nothing about her appearance to attract unwanted attention. She said Alice was sleeping. She had given her a sleeping tablet. She was sure she would be all right in the morning.
    Calvin broke in by saying there was a good play on tele vision. The old couple went into the television-room. Calvin paused before he followed