there was no other person present. Convery began to feel a premonition, the first stirrings of dismay.
“All right,” he snapped. “Where is he?”
“Who?” John Breton looked up blankly.
“The guy who brought you here. The kidnapper.”
“Kidnapper?”
“Look — no games, please.” Convery went the rest of the way down the steps. “Is there another way out of this building?”
“No.”
“Then where’s the man who locked your wife in a closet and brought you here?”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Kate Breton said, raising her head from her husband’s chest. “It’s all been a mistake. This is a… domestic affair.”
“I’m not accepting that for an answer.” Convery kept his voice flat with an effort.
“But what other answer is there?”
“That’s what I intend to find out. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror, John? You’re in a mess — why’s that?”
Breton shrugged. “On weekends I’m a slob. Especially up here at the lake.”
“There’s a piece of fishing line tied around your arm — why’s that?”
“It just happened. I was measuring out some line and I tied myself in knots.”
Convery looked closely at Breton. His face was covered with day-old bruises, but it seemed to have acquired a strength which had never been there before. And there was the way the two Bretons were standing together, almost merged into one. In the nature of Convery’s job, he was not called upon to witness demonstrations of love very often — but he knew it when he saw it. That, too, was something that had been changed by the events of the last few days. Another part of the mystery.
“I’ve given you a lot of trouble for nothing,” Kate Breton said. “Will you stay and have a drink with us?”
Convery shook his head, tasting defeat. “I can see you two want to be alone.” Aware that his irony had been wasted, he turned to leave and remembered the shoe still in his hand. He held it out.
“Here’s your shoe, John. I picked it up close to the water. I suppose you’d noticed you’re going around with only one on?”
“Yes.” John Breton was grinning apologetically. “When I decide to act like a slob, I really act like a slob.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. Good night!”
Convery went up the wooden steps tiredly, and out into the cool night air, his brow furrowed as he tried to assimilate the wealth of new clues he had received. Overhead, the meteor showers were still burning their way across the dark bowl of the sky, but they scarcely registered on his consciousness.
They were classified, in the filing system of his mind, as: “Not relevant to the problem.”
Convery walked slowly to his car. And as he walked his right hand, of its own accord, began flexing, twisting and unflexing — waiting for the magical voice which would never come.
XVIII
To Jack Breton it seemed that someone had merely turned out the basement lights.
He stood in the sudden darkness, gasping with the intensity of the pain in his wrist, and listening intently for any sound of movement upstairs. After a few seconds he relaxed. The lodge was cold and empty in the Time A universe, and not owned by a Breton. Suppose, the thought came, it isn’t owned by anybody, that the basement is locked up tight from the outside?
Breton took a step forward and, on the instant of moving off balance, felt his legs buckle beneath him. He fell forward helplessly, thudded against what felt like a large packing case, and sprawled on the dusty floor. When he tried to scramble to his feet, his arms and legs trembled violently and gave way, throwing him back down on his face.
The second time he was more cautious, gripping the packing case with both hands and working himself upward inch by inch. On his feet again, he leaned against the rough wood, breathing heavily.
He stared around him blindly, chokingly aware that she was probably right there in the basement, separated from him only by the intangible barriers of probability. John Breton would be there, too, and their arms would be around each other.
Jack Breton tensed himself, waiting for the influx of pain; but — miraculously — none came. Instead, he felt the clean, pure taste of reconciliation. He had made a mistake once, but had corrected it. In the end he had put everything right again.
He groped his way towards the stairs and, moving slowly like an old man, reached the top. The door opened when he tried the handle. Beyond it the lodge’s central room was lit by the garish, variable light sweeping in through the windows. The Time A world was experiencing its meteor showers too, but now that he had balanced the cosmic books everything would fall back into place again.
Before he closed the door behind him, Breton turned and stared down into the silent darkness of the empty basement.
“Excuse me,” he said, feeling foolish, but unable to prevent his lips from forming the words. “I can see you two want to be alone.”
He had an illogical conviction they would get his message.
