Never mind. Go and see Lessing.”
* * * *
Sloan drew up in his car and waved as Roger stepped out of Hemmingway’s house.
“They’re under lock and key, Roger. Briggs is still talking. Man, of ideas, this Kennedy. He had a trick of putting drops in his eyes—not bella donna, but something like it. It changed his whole appearance. Very few people would have thought them the same man, when with Kennedy, you would be so fascinated by his eyes you wouldn’t take much notice of his features.”
“You’re telling me!” Roger said.
Sloan grinned; he was a happy man.
“He thought you were safe when he fixed that body. Remember I told you?”
Roger said: “Yes, Bill. You’ve been——”
“Forget it!”
“Never.”
* * * *
Later, Roger sat in Mark Lessing’s car, outside the Bell Street house. It was a little after six o’clock. Some traffic was on the road, and two or three people walked past the end of it. In Bell Street, there was sleepy quiet —even the boys were still asleep.
Mark was gone a long time. Cigarette after cigarette stub joined others on the kerb by the car.
Then Mark appeared, and beckoned.
He didn’t speak when Roger passed him at the gate.
Janet stood in the doorway.
The early morning light fell on Roger’s face. He approached her slowly, his heart beat furiously and breath bated.
It was more than two months since they had met, and Roger saw all the evidence of strain; and he also saw the light in her eyes. She watched him, studying every feature. Slowly, she stretched out her hands, and they were trembling. He took them; they were hot. He drew her gently towards him, and then suddenly she began to cry.
Janet sat on a pouf in front of him, head back, radiance in her eyes again. She held his hand tightly, as if she were afraid that if she let it go, she would never touch it again.
Upstairs, Scoopy called: “Richard. Richard!”
There was no answer. . “Richard!” Scoopy’s voice grew louder. “I’m awake. Wake up, I’m awake.”
Roger felt as if the fierceness of his thumping heart would suffocate him.
He said: “What will they say? I’ve thought about it a million times. They won’t know me, they——”
“They’ll know you. Just talk to them.” Janet’s voice broke. “I’ll tell them—you’ve—oh, I’ll tell them anything, it doesn’t matter, they’ve got you back, I’ve got you back! Roger, it was terrible, I just hadn’t any hope. I——”
“I daren’t——”
“Of course you daren’t. Don’t blame yourself, don’t worry.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t really cry as she went on chokily: “It’s not a bad face. Roger, I think I like it better, in some ways it——”
She couldn’t keep the tears back; but a moment later she was laughing loudly.
There was sudden silence upstairs, and then Richard said in his clear voice: “Mummy’s downstairs.”
“Grace isn’t in her room,” said Scoopy.
“Mummy!”
“I’ll be up soon, boys. You can go into—Richard’s room, Scoopy. Don’t make too much noise.”
They laughed, delighted.
Roger said hoarsely: “He was in Richard’s room already. Nothing’s changed. God! I’ve got to see them, Jan. I must see them. I——”
“I’ll go and talk to them,” said Janet. “I won’t be long.” She stood up, then leaned over him and kissed him, and he felt her damp cheek on his. She swung round and hurried out of the room.
Mark was in the garden, hands in pocket, back towards the window, shoulders squared; cheerful again.
Janet said clearly: “Now listen, boys, I’ve a surprise for you.”
“You’ve been crying,” accused Scoopy.
“I didn’t do anything,” said Richard, defensively.
“No. No.” She could hardly get the words out. “Now— listen, boys. I’ve a big surprise. I’m not really crying, I— I’m laughing. Something wonderful—wonderful has——”
Scoopy cried: “Daddy’s back! Daddy’s come back!”
“Daddy!” shrieked Richard.
