of food; it is like watching somebody change a tire. Whenever you try to move about, as though you were actually doing something, you run into the other person with a bump; and then you feel as though you had shoved the tire- changer over on his face for sheer devilment. They did not talk much, but Dorothy addressed the tea-things vigorously.
She laid the cloth on a small table before the fire in the doctor's study. The curtains were drawn, the blaze piled again with coal. Intent, her brows puckered, she was buttering toast; he could see the shadows under her eyes in the yellow lamplight. Hot muffins, marmalade, and strong tea; the rasp of the knife on toast, steadily, and the warm sweet odour of cinnamon spread on it….
She looked up suddenly.
'I say, aren't you going to drink your tea?'
'No,' he said flatly. 'Tell me what's been happening.
The knife tinkled on the plate as she put it down, very quietly. She answered, looking away: 'There isn't anything. Only, I had to get out of that house.'
'You eat something. I'm not hungry.'
'Oh, don't you see I'm not either?' she demanded. 'It's so nice here; the rain, and the fire?' She flexed her muscles, like a cat, and stared at the edge of the mantelpiece. The teacups smoked between them. She was sitting on an old sagging sofa, whose cloth was of a dull red. Thrown down on the hearth, face upwards, lay the paper on which he had copied the verses. She nodded towards it.
'Have you told Dr. Fell about that?'
'I've mentioned it. But I haven't told him your idea that there is something hidden… '
He realized that he had no idea what he was talking about. On an impulse that was as sudden as a blow in the chest, he rose to his feet. His legs felt light and shaky, and he could hear the teakettle singing loudly. He was conscious of her eyes, bright and steady in the firelight, as he went round to the sofa. For a moment she stared at the fire, and then turned towards him.
He found himself looking at the fire, its heat fierce on his eyes, listening vaguely to the singing kettle and the dim tumult of the rain. For a long time, when he had ceased to kiss her, she remained motionless against his shoulder, her eyes closed and waxen-lidded. Fear that he would be repulsed had lifted, and slowed the enormous pounding of his heart into a peace that was like a blanket drawn about them. He felt madly jubilant and, at the same time, stupid. Turning, he was startled to see her looking at the ceiling with a blank, wide-open stare.
His voice sounded loud in his own ears. 'I?' he said, 'I shouldn't have?'
The blank eyes moved over to his. They seemed to be looking up from some great depth. Slowly her arm moved up round his neck, and drew his face down again. A close, heart-pounding interval while the kettle ceased to sing and somebody seemed to be murmuring incoherently into his ear, through a warm mist. Then suddenly she broke away from him and got to her feet with a spasmodic motion. Walking back and forth in the lamplight, her cheeks flushed, she stopped before him.
'I know it,' she said, breathlessly, in a hard voice. 'I'm a callous little beast. I'm a rotter, that's all. To be doing that — with Martin…'
He got up sharply and took her by the shoulders.
'Don't think about that! Try to stop thinking about it,' he said. 'It's over and done with, don't you see? Dorothy, I love you.'
'And do you think I don't love you?' she demanded. 'I never will, I never could, love anybody as much as I do you. It scares me. It's the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, and I even dream about it at night. That's how bad it is. But it's horrible of me to be thinking about that now….'
Her voice shook. He found that he had tightened his grip on her shoulders, as though he were trying to hold her from a jump.
'We're both a little crazy,' she went on. 'I won't tell you I care for you. I won't admit it. We're both upset by this ghastly business….'
'But it won't be for long, will it? My God! can't you stop brooding? You know what all these fears amount to. Nothing. You heard Dr. Fell say so.'
'I can't explain it. I know what I'll do — go away. I'll go away now — tonight-tomorrow — and I'll forget you?'
'Could you forget? Because, if you could?'
He saw that her eyes were full of tears, and cursed himself. He tried to make his voice calm. 'There isn't any need to forget. There's only one thing we've got to do. We've got to explain all this tommyrot, murders and curses and foolishness and everything, and then you'll be free. We'll both go away then, and?'
'Would you want me?'
'You little fool!'
'— Well,' she said, plaintively, after a pause, 'I only asked… Oh, damn it, when I think of myself reading books a month ago, and wondering whether I might be in love with Wilfrid Denim and not know it, and wondering how they could make such a fuss about it; and then I think of myself now — I've played the silly fool, I'd have done anything-!' She shook her head fiercely and then smiled. The impish look came back; she spoke banteringly, yet it was as though she were pricking a knife-point against her flesh, half fearful that she might draw blood. 'I hope you mean it, old boy. I rather think I should die if you didn't.'
Rampole started in, oratorically, to tell how worthless he was; young men always feel impelled to do this, and Rampole even went so far as to mean it. The effect was somewhat marred by his putting his hand into the butter-dish at the height of the peroration, but she said she didn't, care if he rolled in the butter, and laughed at his humiliation. So they decided they ought to eat something. She kept saying everything was, 'ridiculous,' and Rampole seized recklessly on the idea.
'Have some of this damn silly tea,' he suggested. 'Take a little of this maundering, bughouse lemon and a soupcon of senile sugar. Go on, take it. It's a curious thing, but I feel like throwing the loony toast at you precisely because I love you so much. Marmalade? It has a very low I.Q. I recommend it. Besides?'
'Please! Dr. Fell will be in any moment. Do stop dancing about! — And would you mind opening a window? You beastly Americans like everything so stuffy. Please!'
He strode across to a window beside the fireplace and threw back the curtains, giving a very fair imitation of her accent as he continued his monologue. The rain had slackened. Throwing open the leaves of the window, he poked his head out, and instinctively looked towards Chatterham prison. What he saw caused him not a shock of surprise or fear, but a calm, cold jubilation. He spoke with pleasure and deliberateness.
'This time,' he said, 'I'm going to get the son — I'm going to get him.'
He nodded as he spoke, and turned a queer face to the girl as he pointed out into the rain. Again there was a light in the Governor's Room of Chatterham prison.
It looked like a candle, small and flickering through the dusk. She took only one glance at it before she seized his shoulder.
'What are you going to do?'
'I've told you. Heaven willing,' said Rampole, briskly,
'I'm going to kick hell out of him.'
'You're not going up there?'
'No? Watch me! That's all I ask, just watch me.' 'I won't let you! No, I'm serious. I mean it! You can't?'
Rampole emitted a laugh modelled on the pattern of a stage villain. He took the lamp from the table and hurried out towards the hall, so that she was forced to follow. She seemed to be fluttering around him.
'I asked you not to!'
'So you did,' replied the other, putting on his raincoat. 'Just help me with the sleeve of this thing, will you? Good girl! Now what I want,' he added, inspecting the hatstand, 'is a cane. A good heavy one…. Here we are. `Are you armed, Lestrade?' 'I am armed.' Plenty.'
'Then, I warn you, I'll go along!' she cried, accusingly.
'Well, get your coat on, then. I don't know how long that little joker will wait. Come to think of it, I'd better have a flashlight; the doctor left one here last night, as I remember…. Now.'
'Darling!' said Dorothy Starbeth. 'I was hoping you'd let me go….'
Soaked, splattering through mud, they cut down across the lawn and into the meadow. She had some difficulty manoeuvring the fence in her long raincoat; as he lifted her over it, he felt a kiss on his wet cheek, and the
