Ketcham raised his wrists to his mouth, and with some difficulty, using his teeth, he managed to untie the tape binding his wrists together. That done, he groped for the overcoat, found it, and put it on. It was too small for him; he could button only a few of the buttons, and the cuffs were six inches off his wrists.
Ketcham then went back on his hands and knees and began looking for the clothing he had been forced to remove and had dropped onto the floor.
It was not where he remembered having dropped it, and Ketcham decided that he had become disoriented when he had felt faint and dizzy, and decided he would have to search for it methodically.
Ketcham crawled on his hands and knees until he encountered a wall. Then he moved along the wall hoping the find a door, or something else. He didn't, but eventually he found a corner. He moved from the corner to the next, and estimated that the room was about fifteen feet in that dimension. Then he followed that wall until the next corner, and the next. Along that wall, to one end of it, he encountered a door.
He stood up then and ran his hands over the door. He found a hole, which presumably had at one time held a doorknob. Ketcham put his index finger in the hole and felt around, but encountered nothing. Next Ketcham ran his hands over the concrete on both sides of the door. His fingers encountered a square box, a shielded cable running to it, and then, on the box itself, two toggle switches.
Ketcham closed his eyes so that he would not be blinded by any sudden light. He threw both switches several times, but there was no light.
Walking erect now, Ketcham proceeded along the wall until he came to the corner from which he had started. Then he made another circumnavigation of the room, walking erect and rubbing his hands in slow wide arcs over the cold rough concrete. Midway down one wall, he encountered another shielded cable, and followed it to a plug box near the floor. There was a similar arrangement on the next wall.
Ketcham realized that while he was, literally speaking, still totally in the dark, he was no longer in complete ignorance of his surroundings. He was in a room he estimated to be probably fifteen feet by twelve. There was one door, no handle, and electrical circuits that were dead-or alive. Someone could have removed the bulbs from the light fixture-fixtures; there were two switches-they controlled.
There were no windows, which meant that he was more than likely in some kind of basement.
But they didn't lead me down any stairs, and the truck or station wagon, or whatever that was, didn't descend an incline; I would have sensed that if it had.
So where the hell am I?
Where are the people who brought me here?
Why did they bring me here?
What happens next?
Ketcham began to shiver again.
Where the hell are my clothes?
Ketcham dropped to his knees and began a methodical search of the room, rubbing his hand over the concrete in wide arcs. His confidence that it would be just a matter of time until he found his clothing took a long time dying, but eventually, after twenty passes, he gave up.
Ketcham rested his back against the wall.
His fingertips, and the palms of his hands, and his knees were raw from the concrete.
And I have to take a leak!
Jesus, what do I do about that?
Ketcham got to his feet and moved along the wall until he came to a corner.
I will piss here. This corner will be the toilet.
What the hell am I going to have to do when I have to take a crap?
Ketcham held the too-small overcoat out of the way and voided his bladder. Moments after he had begun to do so, he felt warm urine on his bare feet. He spread his legs as far apart as he could until he finished.
Fuck it, I'd rather get beaten up than put up with any more of this shit!
Ketcham made his way to the door and shouted 'Help' and 'Hello' and beat on the door with his fists, which caused the door to resound like a bell.
No one responded.
Ketcham made his way to the corner opposite from the toilet, and rested his back against the wall, and started to weep in the darkness.
The parking lot of the country club was nearly full, and Matt lost sight of Susan's Porsche while finding a place to park the Plymouth. After three minutes of wandering around the parking lot, he found the car, but not Susan.
'Thank you ever so much for waiting for me,' he muttered, and headed for the brightly lit entrance to the club-house.
He found Susan in the center of the large entrance foyer, talking to a man whose dress and manner made Matt guess-correctly, it turned out-that he was the steward, or manager.
'Good evening,' Matt said, smiling.
'Matt, this is Mr. Witherington, the manager.'
'Claude Witherington,' the man said as he put out his hand to Matt. Then he was unable to resist making the correction: 'Executive Manager, actually. Welcome to River View, Mr. Payne. We hope you'll enjoy our facilities. '
'Thank you very much,' Matt said.
'After Mr. Reynolds called,' Witherington said, 'I had your guest card made out.' He handed it to Matt.
'Thank you,' Matt said.
'This is a no-cash club,' Witherington said. 'I thought I should mention that.'
'How am I going to pay?'
'Have you a home club?'
'I belong to Merion, in Philadelphia, if that's what you mean.'
'Splendid. Merion, of course, is on our reciprocal list. Actually, had I known that, I wouldn't have had to issue a guest card at all. In any event, all you will have to do is sign the chit, and if you think of it, add 'Merion, Philadelphia. ' '
'Actually, I think it's in Merion,' Matt said. 'What should I do, write 'Merion, Merion'?'
Susan Reynolds shook her head, but there was the flicker of a smile on her lips. Mr. Witherington looked distressed, but after a moment smiled happily.
'You just sign your name, Mr. Payne, and I'll handle it from there. You'll be billed through your club.'
'You're very kind, thank you very much.'
'Not at all,' Witherington said. 'Enjoy, enjoy!'
He walked off.
Susan put out her hand.
'Good night, Matt.'
'Good night?'
'Good night.'
'That wasn't our deal, fair maiden. Our deal was that I help you deceive your parents-and that was difficult for me; they're nice people-and in return you keep me from being overwhelmed by loneliness here in the provinces. I kept up my end of the deal, and I expect the same from you.'
'Matt, if you go into the bar, and hold your left hand up so that people can see you don't have a wedding ring, a half dozen-what did you say, 'fair maidens'?-will fall over themselves to get at you.'
'I know, that happens to me all the time. But I'm not that sort of boy. I don't let myself get picked up by strange young ladies. And I don't kiss on the first date. Besides, if you went home now, so soon, your daddy and mommy might get the idea our romance is on the rocks.'
'We don't have a romance.'
'You wouldn't want to break your mommy's heart, would you? From the way she was looking at me, she's already making up the guest list for our marriage.'
'That's not true!'
' 'The truth is a shattered mirror strewn in myriad bits, and each believes his little bit the whole to own,' ' Matt quoted, and when Susan gave him an incredulous look, added, 'That's from the Kasidah of Haji Abu el Yezdi-in
