the penitentiary might do a lot of my acquaintances some good, Pat. Well, you can have the job, anyway. Another drink?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “And perhaps you’d better not let me keep the job.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You’re being melodramatic; if you can pick up any valuable information around there, I’ll split the proceeds with you. No. The only way you’ll be able to help Doc is to give him part of your salary.”
“I’ll be glad to do that,” I said.
“You’re planning to stay with us, then. I wondered. You see, we watch car transfers very closely. I thought you might be going away.”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “It’s an old car. I just bought it to knock around in.”
“Oh? I understood that you were keeping the state car after hours.”
“I am,” I said. “What I’ll probably do is fix up the one I bought in my spare time, and resell it.”
“I see.”
“I couldn’t leave, Miss Kennedy. I’d be breaking my parole.”
“So I understood,” she said. “I wondered if you did. You’d have a great deal to lose by leaving, Pat. What would you gain?”
“Nothing. I’m not leaving.”
She smiled, shaking her gray head slightly.
“Have you read a book called Sappho, Pat?”
“No—yes. Alphonse Daudet, wasn’t it?”
“The hero had strong obligations too, if you remember. A career, a proud family. And all he had to gain was a harlot. An unusually lovely harlot—but aren’t they all when a man falls in love with them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“I’m talking about Mrs. Luther.”
I said, “Oh,” and I think I sighed inwardly with relief.
“It would be very easy for you to be in love with her. I wouldn’t blame you at all.”
“But I’m not.” She couldn’t have heard anything. If there was that much talk, if it had already got to her…
“What would you do if I called you a liar?”
“Well,” I smiled. “From you, I’d take it.”
“Consider it said, then. You’re the worst possible kind of liar.”
“All right,” I said.
“If I were you I’d do a great deal of thinking. Doc has never made any impression upon me except in a slippery sort of way, but he’s gone through a lot for that wife of his and he won’t give her up easily. There’s a blind spot in every man; there’s something he’d kill for. Leave Mrs. Luther alone. Don’t have anything to do with her, and don’t let her have anything to do with you.”
“Maybe—” I hesitated, “maybe I don’t see what you’re driving at, Miss Kennedy. Mrs. Luther is inclined a little to make up to a man, whether the man is interested or not—”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“Well—”
“Will you have another drink? I’m going to have to start dressing in about five minutes.”
“No, thank you.” I got up. “I appreciate your talking to me, Miss Kennedy,” I said. “But you seem to have heard something that just isn’t true. Someone’s been misrepresenting me to you,” I said.
“No one misrepresents anything to me.”
“Well, I don’t blame you for not wanting to stick your neck out. But if there’s talk going around—”
“Goodnight, Pat. This conversation was strictly between us. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“What do I need to worry about?”
“Goodnight.”
She smiled, but she sounded angry; or, rather, disgusted. It was almost as if she said, “Good God!”
I rode back downstairs and jumped in the car, slamming the door after me. It was late, now, and the rain made the night darker. I didn’t know he was there until he spoke—until a match flared and raised up to a face beneath a slouch-brimmed hat.
19
I recognized him just in time to keep from swinging. Or rather to stop the swing I’d started.
“That,” I said, settling back on the seat, “is a good way of getting killed, Mr. Eggleston.”
“There is no good way of getting killed, Mr. Cosgrove. I see your point, though. I didn’t
“No, thanks,” I said. “And perhaps you’d better not let me keep the job.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You’re being melodramatic; if you can pick up any valuable information around there, I’ll split the proceeds with you. No. The only way you’ll be able to help Doc is to give him part of your salary.”
“I’ll be glad to do that,” I said.
“You’re planning to stay with us, then. I wondered. You see, we watch car transfers very closely. I thought you might be going away.”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “It’s an old car. I just bought it to knock around in.”
“Oh? I understood that you were keeping the state car after hours.”
“I am,” I said. “What I’ll probably do is fix up the one I bought in my spare time, and resell it.”
“I see.”
“I couldn’t leave, Miss Kennedy. I’d be breaking my parole.”
“So I understood,” she said. “I wondered if you did. You’d have a great deal to lose by leaving, Pat. What would you gain?”
“Nothing. I’m not leaving.”
She smiled, shaking her gray head slightly.
“Have you read a book called Sappho, Pat?”
“No—yes. Alphonse Daudet, wasn’t it?”
“The hero had strong obligations too, if you remember. A career, a proud family. And all he had to gain was a harlot. An unusually lovely harlot—but aren’t they all when a man falls in love with them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“I’m talking about Mrs. Luther.”
I said, “Oh,” and I think I sighed inwardly with relief.
“It would be very easy for you to be in love with her. I wouldn’t blame you at all.”
“But I’m not.” She couldn’t have heard anything. If there was that much talk, if it had already got to her…
“What would you do if I called you a liar?”
“Well,” I smiled. “From you, I’d take it.”
“Consider it said, then. You’re the worst possible kind of liar.”
“All right,” I said.
“If I were you I’d do a great deal of thinking. Doc has never made any impression upon me except in a slippery sort of way, but he’s gone through a lot for that wife of his and he won’t give her up easily. There’s a blind spot in every man; there’s something he’d kill for. Leave Mrs. Luther alone. Don’t have anything to do with her, and don’t let her have anything to do with you.”
“Maybe—” I hesitated, “maybe I don’t see what you’re driving at, Miss Kennedy. Mrs. Luther is inclined a little to make up to a man, whether the man is interested or not—”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“Well—”
“Will you have another drink? I’m going to have to start dressing in about five minutes.”
“No, thank you.” I got up. “I appreciate your talking to me, Miss Kennedy,” I said. “But you seem to have heard something that just isn’t true. Someone’s been misrepresenting me to you,” I said.
“No one misrepresents anything to me.”
“Well, I don’t blame you for not wanting to stick your neck out. But if there’s talk going around—”
“Goodnight, Pat. This conversation was strictly between us. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“What do I need to worry about?”
“Goodnight.”
She smiled, but she sounded angry; or, rather, disgusted. It was almost as if she said, “Good God!”
I rode back downstairs and jumped in the car, slamming the door after me. It was late, now, and the rain made the night darker. I didn’t know he was there until he spoke—until a match flared and raised up to a face beneath a slouch-brimmed hat.
19
I recognized him just in time to keep from swinging. Or rather to stop the swing I’d started.
“That,” I said, settling back on the seat, “is a good way of getting killed, Mr. Eggleston.”
“There is no good way of getting killed, Mr. Cosgrove. I see your point, though. I didn’t
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