I had been seeing and hearing only him, but now memory came like a blow. “It will take you a lot longer, walking, won’t it? I’m sorry.”
He said very quietly, his dark eyes holding mine, “Signora, do you not understand? I cannot leave you now.”
A minute ago I had thought that, but now I was fully awake. “But if your bicycle’s gone, he’s gone! The killer!” The thought was like a sunrise.
He said soberly, “Not necessarily. We know only that he has made sure that I cannot leave.”
“But you can! You can walk—”
“Signora, unless I met a car, which is not likely, you would be alone for many hours.”
I shivered, then remembered that Richard was hurt. “You must go.”
“Signora, I repeat that I cannot leave you alone. With, perhaps, a murderer.”
“If you don’t go, I must.”
He said gently, “No, signora. You might be followed.”
The thing I had thought of that morning, the thing that had made me feel faint then, and did again now. For a little while I did not realize that he was still talking: “...So even if the roads did not mislead you, and there were no evil behind you, you would be lost in the dark. Your husband himself would not want you to take such a mad, foolish risk.”
“I know he wouldn’t, but somebody’s got to.”
“Why? If he, that evil one, is yet here, he is watching for me to leave. When I stay beside you—a strong man—he will see that his trick has failed and go.”
I swallowed. “But he’ll be here when night falls. What if he comes up again?”
“He will not. We will have the lights on.”
“We can’t. The electricity’s off.”
Again he smiled. “The hall below is dark even at midday, signora, and when I left you I thought it wise to turn on the lights. The switch is at the head of the stairs. So also is the master switch. When one brought no light, I turned on the other.”
It had been so easy—so simple—and how glad I would have been of those lights last night! Yet I had never even seen those switches. I had been a hysterical fool.
“So he will know he cannot take us by surprise, signora. Though indeed he could hardly tamper with so heavy a door without giving me much warning.”
“What if he is armed?”
His white teeth flashed. “You say that old Mattia’s skull was smashed. That would be the work of a club. Me, I am not an old man; I can get out of the way of a club.”
His eyes danced. Their exuberant masculinity challenged me. You know well that I am not old. He meant the two of us to be alone together all night except for the unconscious Richard. Well, I mustn’t think like my grandmother, but Richard—
I said again, quietly, “My husband needs a doctor. One of us must go.”
He said as quietly, “Signora, if ill came to me on that road—and in the dark any man can be taken by surprise—you and your husband would indeed be lost.”
He was right; he could be followed too. I hadn’t thought of that. My skin crawled. Death stalking so much life!
He laid his hand over mine. His touch, his voice, were so warm, so reassuring that they were like arms around me. “Signora, the skull of your husband is sound. I swear it.”
For a blessed moment I believed him; then my mind worked again. “You’re not a doctor. You can’t know—”
“I know something of wounds. Set your mind at rest, signora.” His smile was brilliant, masterful now; in that quiet room it seemed to flash like electricity. “Also you have no other choice, for I will neither leave you nor let you go.”
Chapter IV
tried to keep on arguing, but I couldn’t; there was nothing I could do. He saw that he had won; he said gaily, “Have you food here, signora? You would be the better for a meal, and me, I have cycled far.”
“Of course. I’ll get you something.” I jumped up gladly; the duties of a hostess should give me dignity, set a proper distance between us. But as I moved towards my fantastic kitchen, he moved with me. Lithely, with
He said very quietly, his dark eyes holding mine, “Signora, do you not understand? I cannot leave you now.”
A minute ago I had thought that, but now I was fully awake. “But if your bicycle’s gone, he’s gone! The killer!” The thought was like a sunrise.
He said soberly, “Not necessarily. We know only that he has made sure that I cannot leave.”
“But you can! You can walk—”
“Signora, unless I met a car, which is not likely, you would be alone for many hours.”
I shivered, then remembered that Richard was hurt. “You must go.”
“Signora, I repeat that I cannot leave you alone. With, perhaps, a murderer.”
“If you don’t go, I must.”
He said gently, “No, signora. You might be followed.”
The thing I had thought of that morning, the thing that had made me feel faint then, and did again now. For a little while I did not realize that he was still talking: “...So even if the roads did not mislead you, and there were no evil behind you, you would be lost in the dark. Your husband himself would not want you to take such a mad, foolish risk.”
“I know he wouldn’t, but somebody’s got to.”
“Why? If he, that evil one, is yet here, he is watching for me to leave. When I stay beside you—a strong man—he will see that his trick has failed and go.”
I swallowed. “But he’ll be here when night falls. What if he comes up again?”
“He will not. We will have the lights on.”
“We can’t. The electricity’s off.”
Again he smiled. “The hall below is dark even at midday, signora, and when I left you I thought it wise to turn on the lights. The switch is at the head of the stairs. So also is the master switch. When one brought no light, I turned on the other.”
It had been so easy—so simple—and how glad I would have been of those lights last night! Yet I had never even seen those switches. I had been a hysterical fool.
“So he will know he cannot take us by surprise, signora. Though indeed he could hardly tamper with so heavy a door without giving me much warning.”
“What if he is armed?”
His white teeth flashed. “You say that old Mattia’s skull was smashed. That would be the work of a club. Me, I am not an old man; I can get out of the way of a club.”
His eyes danced. Their exuberant masculinity challenged me. You know well that I am not old. He meant the two of us to be alone together all night except for the unconscious Richard. Well, I mustn’t think like my grandmother, but Richard—
I said again, quietly, “My husband needs a doctor. One of us must go.”
He said as quietly, “Signora, if ill came to me on that road—and in the dark any man can be taken by surprise—you and your husband would indeed be lost.”
He was right; he could be followed too. I hadn’t thought of that. My skin crawled. Death stalking so much life!
He laid his hand over mine. His touch, his voice, were so warm, so reassuring that they were like arms around me. “Signora, the skull of your husband is sound. I swear it.”
For a blessed moment I believed him; then my mind worked again. “You’re not a doctor. You can’t know—”
“I know something of wounds. Set your mind at rest, signora.” His smile was brilliant, masterful now; in that quiet room it seemed to flash like electricity. “Also you have no other choice, for I will neither leave you nor let you go.”
Chapter IV
tried to keep on arguing, but I couldn’t; there was nothing I could do. He saw that he had won; he said gaily, “Have you food here, signora? You would be the better for a meal, and me, I have cycled far.”
“Of course. I’ll get you something.” I jumped up gladly; the duties of a hostess should give me dignity, set a proper distance between us. But as I moved towards my fantastic kitchen, he moved with me. Lithely, with
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