Night Walker by Donald Hamilton

good night glasses; and he remembered something else, and turned to look at the girl who had come into the room behind him.
    The light was behind her, but he could read the defiance in her attitude. “All right,” she said. “All right, I lied about them. I didn’t want you looking at that boat with binoculars, honey. You’ve got such a funny conscience.”
    Young said, “But you looked at it.” She nodded, and he asked, “What was the name?”
    She licked her lips and hesitated. She spoke almost sullenly: “Well, they’re gone, so it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
    “Tell me.”
    She said, “Honey, what difference does it make? You can’t do anything about it, can you?” She made a quick gesture, as he stepped forward. “Honey, keep your shirt on! It was a funny name. I’m trying to remember.... Marbeth, ” she said triumphantly. “That’s it. Marbeth, New York. ”
    He looked down at her shadowed face. The list she had taken from him was still clear in his mind: Shooting Star, Aloha, Marbeth ... She caught his arm as he moved.
    “David, what are you going to do?”
    The question stopped him. He could think of nothing to do that would not bring complete disaster down upon both of them; and on the other hand, what did he know? A man who was dead had carried a list of boats, which had been destroyed. One of these boats had showed up, presumably to meet the man; not finding him, it had departed. There was a presumption of illegal and perhaps even treasonous activities, but it was only a presumption, based upon Larry Wilson’s reputation. There was no proof at all.
    Elizabeth gripped his arm tightly. “Come on, honey,” she said. “We’re wasting time. It’s none of our business, is it?” She kissed him quickly. “We can be a long ways from here by morning if we hurry, hear? Don’t forget the flashlight.”
    He found himself wishing desperately to be well and strong again; he seemed incapable of seeing thealternatives clearly. He let her urge him toward the door. She released him to pick up the bags and follow him.
    “Honey,” she said, “be careful. Did you bring the gun?”
    He looked around sharply, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
    She said, “Why, nothing. I mean, that boat. I declare, I’m just all upset and nervous.”
    He studied her for a moment, noting that her eyes were not quite candid. He remembered the dampness of her sandals: she had been outside, earlier in the evening. He drew a deep breath and patted his pocket to reassure himself about the presence of the gun. He opened the door, which opened inward, so that he had to step back a pace. An utterly familiar voice whispered from the darkness outside.
    “Well, did you finally get your patient to sleep, Elizabeth? I must say it took you long enough! I’ve been wait—”
    Young was not aware of pressing the switch, but the flashlight beam shot out across the lawn and swung in the direction from which the whisper had come. Then the night seemed to erupt with a bellowing noise: the sound of a heavy revolver fired at close range. Something smashed the flashlight from Young’s hand, not only taking it away from him but demolishing it in the process, and numbing his armto the shoulder. There seemed to be an endless shower of broken glass and burst metal.
    He was not aware of ducking, but he was on his knees in the doorway. The fall had wrenched his chest, and the agony of it joined with the stinging pain of his arm. A man was running away from him across the lawn; a big man with a revolver in one hand; a man wearing a light hat and topcoat that looked horribly familiar; and after a while he realized what was so horrible about it: the man he was looking at, who had just shot a flashlight out of his hand, was a man who was dead and buried, sunk in the Bay securely wrapped in fathoms of heavy chain....

Chapter Ten
    Wakefulness came upon him suddenly and he sat up, finding himself on a sofa in a living room gray with