The lobby, and what I could see of the corridors, were vacant when I reached the ground-floor. I started towards the rear of the building, and stopped. I heard, for the first time since I had awakened, a noise that I hadn’t made. A shoe-sole had scuffed on the stone steps the other side of the street-door.
I walked to the front door, got one hand on the bolt, the other hand on the latch, snapped them back together, and yanked the door open with my left hand, letting my right hang within a twist of my gun.
Eric Collinson stood on the top step.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked sourly.
It was a long story, and he was too excited to make it a clear one. As nearly as I could untangle it from his words, he had been in the habit of phoning Doctor Riese daily for reports on Gabrielle’s progress. Today—or rather yesterday—and last night, he had failed to get the doctor on the wire. He had called up as late as two o’clock this morning. Doctor Riese was not at home, he had been told, and none of the household knew where he was or why he was not at home. Collinson had then, after the two-o’clock call, come to the neighborhood of the Temple, on the chance that he might see me and get some word of the girl. He hadn’t intended, he said, coming to the door until he saw me looking out.
“Until you did what?” I asked.
“Saw you.”
“When?”
“A minute ago, when you looked out.”
“You didn’t see me,” I said. “What did you see?”
“Somebody looking out, peeping out. I thought it was you, and came up from the corner where I was sitting in the car. Is Gabrielle all right?”
“Sure,” I said. There was no use telling him I was hunting for her, and have him blowup on me. “Don’t talk so loud. Riese’s people don’t know where he is?”
“No—they seem worried. But that’s all right if Gabrielle’s all right.” He put a hand on my upper arm. “Could—could I see her? Just for a second? I won’t say anything. She needn’t even know I’ve seen her. I don’t mean now—but can’t you arrange it?”
This bird was young, tall, strong, and perfectly willing to have himself broken into pieces for Gabrielle Leggett. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what. I didn’t know what I would have to do to make it right, and how much help I would need. I couldn’t afford to turn him away. On the other hand, I couldn’t give him the low-down on the racket—that would have turned him into a wild man. I said:
“Come in. I’m on an inspection trip. You can go along if you keep quiet, and afterwards we’ll see what we can do.”
He came in, looking and acting as if I were St. Peter letting him into Heaven. I closed the door and led him through the lobby, down the main corridor. So far as we could see we had the joint to ourselves. And then we didn’t.
Gabrielle Leggett came around a corner just ahead of us. She was barefooted. Her only clothing was a yellow silk nightgown that was splashed with dark stains. In both hands, held out in front of her as she walked, she carried a large dagger, almost a sword. It was red and wet. Her hands and bare arms were red and wet. There was a dab of blood on one of her cheeks. Her eyes were clear, bright, and calm. Her small forehead was smooth, her mouth and chin firmly set.
She walked up to me, her untroubled gaze holding my probably troubled one, and said evenly, just as if she had expected to find me there, had come there to find me:
“Take it. It is evidence. I killed him.”
I said: “Huh?”
Still looking straight into my eyes, she said:
“You are a detective. Take me to where they will hang me.”
It was easier to move my hand than my tongue. I took the bloody dagger from her. It was a broad, thick-bladed weapon, double-edged, with a bronze hilt like a cross.
Eric Collinson pushed past me, babbling words that nobody could have made out, going for the girl with shaking outstretched hands. She shrank over against the wall, away from him, fear in her face.
“Don’t let him touch me,” she begged.
“Gabrielle,” he cried, reaching for her.
“No, no,” she panted.
I walked into his arms, my body between him and her, facing him, pressing him back with a hand against his chest, growling at him: “Be still, you.”
He took my shoulders in his big brown hands and began pushing me out of the way. I got ready to rap him on the chin with the heavy bronze dagger hilt. But we didn’t have to go that far: looking over me at the girl he forgot his intentions of forcing me out of his path, and his hands went loose on my shoulders. I leaned on the hand that I had on his chest, moving him back until he was against the wall; and then stepped away from him, a little to one side, so I could see both him and her facing each other from opposite walls.
“Be still till we see what’s happened,” I told him, and turned to the girl, pointing the dagger at her. “What’s happened?”
She was calm again.
“Come,” she said. “I’ll show you. Don’t let Eric come, please.”
“He won’t bother you,” I promised.
She nodded at that, gravely, and led us back down the corridor, around the corner, and up to a small iron door that stood ajar. She went through first. I followed her. Collinson was at my heels. Fresh air hit us when we went through
