He said in a hard voice, “What's the idea, Mason?”
I stared at him. “You gone screwy, Colonel?”
He tapped Mardi's photograph. “If you knew about this girl, why ask me?”
I sat for a full minute, staring at him. Then I said, “That's my wife, Colonel—I don't know what you're gettin' at.”
“That's the woman Curtis sent to me to negotiate the stock I was telling you about.”
I pushed back my chair. “You've made a mistake,” I said unsteadily. “That's Mardi—my wife.”
He picked up the photograph and looked at it carefully. All the time he was doing that, my heart was beating against my ribs like a pile-driver. Then he looked up. “Who was your wife before she married you, Nick?” he said.
With the sudden horrible feeling of things crumbling, I said, “She was Spencer's secretary.”
Kennedy pushed the photograph across the table towards me. “It fits, doesn't it?” he said quietly. “There's no doubt about it, Nick.”
. I just sat there in a heap. Kennedy wasn't the kind of a guy who made mistakes. I said unevenly, “But this is crazy.”
He got to his feet. “Suppose we leave it, Nick? I've got to run along. I'll be seeing you.” He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment, then walked out of the restaurant. I picked up the photograph and put it in my wallet. I couldn't think. I didn't want to think. I got up, pushing the chair away from me with the back of my legs and walked over to the hat rack. I put my hat and coat on slowly. The waiters were looking at me curiously, but I didn't care about them; then I went outside into the street.
The train to Santa Monica was already in the station and I got a seat. I settled myself and looked out of the window. My eyes didn't see anything, and although it was a hot day I felt cold.
The train began to glide out of the station, taking me back to Santa Monica—and to something I was frightened to face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BY THE TIME I had reached Santa Monica I had got over the shock. The explanation must be simple, I told myself. Either Kennedy had made a bad mistake, or else Mardi had been forced to play some deep game by Curtis. Whatever the explanation was, it wasn't going to break up Mardi's life with me. I'd spent a lot of time playing around with girls, and I knew when I had found the right one. Mardi was my girl. I wasn't going to let anything come between us. I'd talk the whole thing over with her, and she'd tell me the truth. The truth wasn't going to be bad—it mustn't be bad.
I took a taxi from Santa Monica station. I wanted to get back there fast. It seemed a long way, and I sat on the edge of my seat urging the driver to push his cab along. I got there at last. The front door was standing open, but Mardi wasn't in the garden. I walked up the long path, feeling suddenly a little sick. I kept on telling myself that it would be all right, but somehow at the back of my brain I knew that what I had built up was already crumbling.
I stepped into the hallway. A man's hat and coat hung on the rack— they weren't mine. I put my grip carefully on the floor and stood looking. Then I got rid of my own hat and coat and walked into the sitting- room.
They were there waiting for me.
For a moment, I didn't recognise him. He was a tall guy, with a lot of wavy hair, a tanned complexion and bright blue eyes. It was Lee Curtis, all right. I stood in the doorway, with the blood roaring in my ears. I looked at Mardi. She was sitting listlessly in an armchair. Her face was white and her eyes looked like big holes cut in a sheet. She didn't even look at me.
Curtis said, “I've been waiting for you.”
I couldn't say anything.
“I've been here four days—she an' I've been living together.”
I felt suddenly brittle Inside, like someone had stepped in close with a half-arm jab, but still I couldn't think of anything to say.
He looked at me thoughtfully, then he put his hand up to his chin. I could hear his nails rasp on his beard. He said, “Take it easy—it's no use gettin' rattled.”
I walked with stiff legs over to Mardi. I said, “I'm with you all the way—but I've got to know the truth.”
She didn't look up. She just sat there as if I hadn't spoken.
Curtis turned on his heels, so that he was facing me. He said, “I've been waiting for this, for some time. Now I've got you both where I want you.”
I turned ray head and looked at him. I guess I must have had a flicker in my eye, because he jerked a gun out of his hip pocket.
“Take it easy,” he said. “I don't want to start shootin', but I'm not riskin' anything from you.”
I said between my teeth, “Talk quick an' get out.”
He sat on the edge of the table, still holding the gun leveled at me. “It's quite a tale,” he said, with a sneer. “Sit down—you'll get tired.”
I didn't move.
“A couple of years ago,” he said, swinging his leg slowly to and fro, “I got a job with the Mackenzie
