His love for Frances had the same poignancy as Pete's, for he believed, like Pete believed, that his love would never come to fruition. Instead of Maurer standing in the way as in Pete's case, it was Janey.
Conrad had made the mistake that Frances's interest in Pete was founded on love when in fact it was founded on compassion.
Frances wasn't in love with Pete, but she was sorry for him, and in a girl of her sensibility, pity was as strong, if not stronger, than love.
She knew he had had the chance to kill her. He had had the weapon and the opportunity. He had been ordered to kill her, and he had risked his own life by staying his hand. That act made a great impression on her, and the fact that the crude naevus that disfigured his face must have embittered and soured his life made her want very much to try to make up in kindness for the years of bitterness he must have suffered.
When they met in the garden on the afternoon of the day Conrad had talked to Forest, Frances was very kind and sweet to Pete. They talked as other young people will talk to each other for the first time. They were shy and hesitant, groping for common ground.
It wasn't an easy meeting. They were sharply aware of the guards who patrolled the garden and who watched Pete with stony hard eyes.
Pete was painfully conscious of his birth-mark; he sat on Frances's right, and he kept his face turned so she shouldn't see the birth-mark. When he did turn to
look at her, his hand went instinctively to cover the mark.
Frances felt that this embarrassment was a slight on her own feelings, and after they had talked for a little while, she said suddenly, 'That mark on your face is called a naevus, isn't it?'
He flinched and blood rushed to his face, and his eyes suddenly angry and hurt, searched for the slightest hint that she was about to bait him. >
But he couldn't mistake the kindness he saw in her eyes nor the sudden friendly smile she gave him.
'I want to talk about it,' she said quietly. 'Because it so embarrasses you, and it shouldn't. I believe you think it shocks me, but it doesn't. Don't you realize when I'm talking to you I look beyond that, and I don't really see it?'
Pete stared at her, and he was convinced at once that she was speaking sincerely. He realized she had said something he had longed to hear said by someone – anyone – but had never believed he would hear it. He was so moved he had to turn his head while he struggled to control his feelings.
He felt her hand on his arm.
'I didn't mean to upset you, but isn't there something that could be done about it? I've read, I'm sure, that people can be cured. Haven't you thought about it?'
'I guess so,' he said, not looking at her. 'It means an operation, and I've got some blood condition that makes an operation unsafe.' He swung around to face her. 'But never mind about me. I want to talk about you. I've never met a girl like you before. You're real and kind and decent.' He looked down at her hand, still on his arm. 'You don't mind touching me. What a fool I've been! If I'd met you before I wouldn't have done what I've done. It was because the way people treated me, the way they looked at me, that I hooked up with the gang.' He moved closer to her. 'But never mind that either. I've got to tell you something. This guy Conrad wants you to give evidence against Maurer. You've got to realize what I'm saying is right. I know. Don't listen to Conrad or any of these coppers. They don't know; they only think they do. They think you saw Maurer at Dead End. Now listen, I don't want to know if you saw him or if you didn't see him. The thing that matters is you must never admit having seen him; not to me, nor Conrad, nor anyone; not even to your mother or your father. You must never admit you saw him; not even to yourself! You stand a slight chance of keeping alive so long as you say nothing. It's not much of a chance, but it is a chance. But understand this: if you let Conrad persuade you to tell him what you know – if you know anything – then no power on earth can save you!'
Frances was a little shaken by his tense fierceness, but she wasn't frightened. Conrad had explained the impossibility of anyone reaching her, and she had been impressed by the precautions he had taken.
'I know I can't stay here for ever,' she said, 'but so long as I'm here, I'm safe, and so are you.'
Pete stared at her blankly.
'Safe? Here? Of course we're not safe! Do you imagine Maurer couldn't reach either of us if he wanted to? How many guards are there here? Twenty? If there were a hundred, they wouldn't stop Maurer. No one has ever survived when he has given the word for him to the. No one! You don't know that guy. The moment he failed to make good a threat, the Syndicate would wipe him out. It's his life or ours, and it won't be his.'
'Aren't you letting your imagination run away with you?' Frances asked. 'Of course we're safe here. Mr. Conrad has shown me the precautions he has taken. No one could get near us.'
Pete clenched his fists and beat them on his knees.
'Maurer can go through those guards like a hot knife through butter. I didn't want to tell you this, but I'm going to, because you've got to realize what you're up against. When I warned you about Moe I disobeyed an order, and Maurer can't afford to let me live. If he lets me get away with it, some of the others will start disobeying his orders. That's why I talked to Conrad. I was buying a little time. I didn't tell him much, but enough for him to hold me. But in a while Maurer will get me. My time's running out. I'm not kidding myself. I haven't much longer to live; maybe an hour, maybe three or four days, but not longer.'
Frances suddenly felt sick. Although Pete spoke calmly, she could see the terror in his eyes. It was this terror that convinced her he believed what he was telling her.
'But they can't get at you,' she said, gripping his arm. 'You mustn't be frightened. How can they get at you?'
'Of course they can, and they will. When they're ready to take me. they'll take me.'
'But how?' Frances asked. 'With all these policemen watching you . . .'
Pete threw out his hands in despair.
'Do you think I trust any of them? If Maurer offered them enough money one of them would sell me out.
