he was carrying a handicap of twenty pounds and twenty years.
He pulled his jaw into his neck and spoke in the voice of authority:
'Mrs. Collinson must return to San Francisco with me. She cannot stay here. This is a preposterous arrangement.'
'She's not going to San Francisco,' I said. 'If necessary, the district attorney can hold her here as a material witness. Try upsetting that with any of your court orders, and we'll give you something else to worry about. I'm telling you this so you'll know how we stand. We'll prove that she might be in danger from you. How do we know you haven't played marbles with the estate? How do we know you don't mean to take advantage of her present upset condition to shield yourself from trouble over the estate? Why, man, you might even be planning to send her to an insane-asylum so the estate will stay under your control.'
He was sick behind his eyes, though the rest of him stood up well enough under this broadside. When he had got his breath and had swallowed, he demanded:
'Does Gabrielle believe this?' His face was magenta.
'Who said anybody believed it?' I was trying to be bland. 'I'm just telling you what we'll go into court with. You're a lawyer. You know there's not necessarily any connection between what's true and what you go into court with--or into the newspapers.'
The sickness spread from behind his eyes, pushing the color from his face, the stiffness from his bones; but he held himself tall and he found a level voice.
'You may tell Mrs. Collinson,' he said, 'that I shall return my letters testamentary to the court this week, with an accounting of the estate, and a request that I be relieved.'
'That'll be swell,' I said, but I felt sorry for the old boy shuffling down to his car, climbing slowly into it.
I didn't tell Gabrielle he had been there.
She was whining a little now between her yawning and sneezing, and her eyes were running water. Face, body, and hands were damp with sweat. She couldn't eat. I kept her full of orange juice. Noises and odors-- no matter how faint, how pleasant--were becoming painful to her, and she twitched and jerked continually in her bed.
'Will it get much worse than this?' she asked.
'Not much. There'll be nothing you can't stand.'
Mickey Linehan was waiting for me when I got downstairs.
'The spick's got herself a chive,' he said pleasantly.
'Yeah?'
'Yeah. It's the one I've been using to shuck lemons to take the stink out of that bargain-counter gin you bought--or did you just borrow it, the owner knowing you'd return it because nobody could drink it? It's a paring knife--four or five inches of stainless steel blade--so you won't get rustmarks on your undershirt when she sticks it in your back. I couldn't find it, and asked her about it, and she didn't look at me like I was a well-poisoner when she said she didn't know anything about it, and that's the first time she never looked at me that way, so I knew she had it.'
'Smart of you,' I said. 'Well, keep an eye on her. She don't like us much.'
'I'm to do that?' Mickey grinned. 'My idea would be for everybody to look out for himself, seeing that you're the lad she dog-eyes most, and it's most likely you that'll get whittled on. What'd you ever do to her? You haven't been dumb enough to fool with a Mex lady's affections, have you?'
I didn't think he was funny, though he may have been.
Aaronia Haldorn arrived just before dark, in a Lincoln limousine driven by a Negro who turned the siren loose when he brought the car into the drive. I was in Gabrielle's room when the thing howled. She all but jumped out of bed, utterly terrorized by what must have been an ungodly racket to her too sensitive ears.
'What was it? What was it?' she kept crying between rattling teeth, her body shaking the bed.
'Sh-h-h,' I soothed her. I was acquiring a pretty fair bedside manner. 'Just an automobile horn. Visitors. I'll go down and head them off.'
'You won't let anybody see me?' she begged.
'No. Be a good girl till I get back.'
Aaronia Haldorn was standing beside the limousine talking to MacMan when I came out. In the dim light, her face was a dusky oval mask between black hat and black fur coat--but her luminous eyes were real enough.
'How do you do?' she said, holding out a hand. Her voice was a thing to make warm waves run up your back. 'I'm glad for Mrs. Collinson's sake that you're here. She and I have had excellent proof of your protective ability, both owing our lives to it.'
That was all right, but it had been said before. I made a gesture that was supposed to indicate modest distaste for the subject, and beat her to the first tap with:
'I'm sorry she can't see you. She isn't well.'
'Oh, but I should so like to see her, if only for a moment. Don't you think it might be good for her?'
I said I was sorry. She seemed to accept that as final, though she said: 'I came all the way from the city to see her.'
I tried that opening with:
'Didn't Mr. Andrews tell you . . . ?' letting it ravel out.
