THE 
            GIRL WITH 
            A SECRET 
                     
  
             A Crest Reprint 
   
            By CHARLOTTE 
            ARMSTRONG 
        



 
      
      
     Crest Book 382 
     First Crest printing, June 1960 
 
                                 



       © 1957, 1959, by Charlotte Armstrong 
Lewis. All rights reserved, including 
the right to reproduce this book or 
portions thereof. 
 THE GIRL WITH A SECRET was 
originally published in Duo by 
Coward-McCann, Inc., and is reissued 
at 25c in this new Crest edition 
through arrangement with that 
company. All characters in this book 
are fictional and any resemblance to 
persons living or dead is purely 
coincidental. CREST BOOKS are 
published by Fawcett World Library, 
67 West 44th Street, New York 36, N.Y. 
Printed in the United States of 
America. 



                 CHAPTER 1 

     They had been sealed in, sitting still, for seven 
hours from Chicago, but motion, in the dry sunlight of 
Los Angeles, began to erase that lifeless feeling. 
Tony said they would take the airline bus as far as 
Hollywood, so they went with the crowd. 
     Alice knew when something happened. 
     They were pushing along through  the waiting 
room. A man sang out: "Tony Page! Hey, Tony!" Old 
friend. Chance meeting. The man was going 
somewhere. It was quick... so quick that Alice didn't 
even get the man's name... a greeting, a handshake. 
Yet, when the man had gone on toward the gate to 
the field, and she and Tony had pushed out upon the 
sidewalk, Alice knew that something had just 
happened; something had changed. 
     Tony didn't say so. He said, "Fellow I used to 
know," without repeating the name. She looked 
searchingly up, but his kind, blunt-featured, 
undistinguished and beloved face was no different. 
They climbed aboard the bus. Tony went on talking 
about his grandmother and the family, about the 


                           5
 



planned visit, but Alice seemed to know that, in his 
mind, the plan was no longer exactly the same. 
     Something had intervened. 
     She sat quietly, looking out upon the unfamiliar 
scene. Perhaps he would tell her. If he did not, there 
would be a reason for that and she would accept the 
reason's existence. There were things Tony had 
done, had known, that he could never tell her. She 
understood. 
     Tony kept talking like a guidebook to this city. 
They came to the hotel in Hollywood, transferred to a 
cab; Tony gave the address. 
     "Wait till you see the house," he said. "It's an 
antique. Back in the mouth of a canyon, and you'd 
think you were a hundred miles from civilization. 
Except that the house is a civilization, all by itself. 
     "Gran is an antique, too," he added. "She is a 
lady." 
     "A lady?" 
     "Yup. Real thing." 
     "I'm terrified," said Alice with considerable 
honesty. "I Will never be a lady. I haven't even got 
the ambition." 
     "Be you," said Tony. 
     So they kissed, in the corner that the driver 
couldn't see. Alice was comforted. She slipped her 
arm through his, felt snug. 


                              6
 



     "Your grandmother lives with her niece and her 
niece's husband," she mused. 
     "Aunt Hortense. Uncle Greg. My cousins, really." 
     "And their child." 
     "Cousin Bee." 
     "Seems strange." 
     "Why?" 
     "Isn't a grandson closer than a niece in... you 
know... blood?" 
     "Fat chance Gran's had to live with  me." Tony 
grinned and Alice was reminded of the wide world, 
the far places, the reaches of his experience, that were 
secret from her, because they had been in secret 
service. And even the secret of their existence was 
not yet to be told. Or was it? 
     "Do they know...?" she began. 
     He began at the same time. "They don't know..." 
     The Pages laughed together. 
     After which, he said seriously, "They have no idea, 
honey. And we won't tell them." 
     "If you say not," she said submissively. She knew 
very little about the secret work he used to do, had 
done for several years, was now done with. Her only 
reasonable and loving attitude was quiet obedience. 
     "Let them go on thinking I was an international 
bum," Tony continued. "Like my father before me." 
     "Oh, was he?" 

                            7
 



     "Yes, he really was, I guess. I suspect his fleece 
was distinctly gray in Gran's view. I don't think he 
ever saw her after Ma died. But she's fond of me. I 
want to present you. It seems right." 
     "Of course it's right," she said. 
     But Alice (Hansen) Page didn't particularly look 
forward to being presented to a real lady in an antique 
house to receive (her bones boded) judgment. 
     "How old is Cousin Bee?" she asked, to be saying 
something. 
     "Bee? Oh, let me see. For gosh sakes, Bee's my 
age. She must be twenty-eight." 
     "Not married?" 
     "Not that I know." He was casual about Cousin 
Bee. "Uncle Greg's an old smoothie," he told her. 
"Sells insurance and makes a big thing of it. Rotary 
Club and all that." Tony looked down sideways. 
"Don't be so smug," he teased, shrewdly, "just 
because you got yourself a man before you turned 
twenty." 
     "I turn twenty day after tomorrow!" She felt 
delighted to be teased. 
     "Just the same, for two days yet, you are nineteen 
years old, Mrs. Page." 
     They kissed again. 
     Tony said, in a moment, "Aunt Hortense is a bit of 
an oddball. So is Bee, as a matter of fact. I'm not... 


                              8
 



especially close to those Staffords. You mustn't 
worry about a thing." 
     He tightened his arm around her. 
     Damn it, Tony Page was thinking, I'll have to go 
see the Old Man. But they can't ask me to do a job, 
go anywhere. I'm out. And I don't want to leave 
Alice, my darling, and I won't do it. Maybe it's 
consultation. Maybe they think I know something 
useful. They know I'm out. For me, that stuff is over 
and done. I've got a job in the building business. Got 
a wife, God bless her. 
     Alice, so young, so fair. Fair beloved brow with the 
dark smooth hair going up like a pair of wing's 
shoulders, and then furled and feathered neat against 
the darling head. Eyes between purple and gray, 
grave eyes. "Grave Alice and laughing Allegra..." 
Grave Alice.  He liked that very much. Whenever he 
thought of her, his mind was turned toward poetry. 
     He'd had enough adventuring, which he now knew 
meant long dull days of waiting in dirty 
uncomfortable places. He'd had enough of being 
outside the patterns, un-placed, and always 
pretending to be placed. Conniving, snooping, 
deceiving. Now he was placed. Nobody, nothing was 
going to take him away from her upon whom all his 
heart was settled. 
     Yet... this nagged him: what did he know that they 
didn't know already? So what did the Old Man want 
of him? Why had Herb Innes given him the old signal 

                             9
 



that had so shocked him? He had had to reach for 
that old imperturbability. It had slipped for a moment. 
Why had Herb Innes been sent for him? 
     Could he ignore the summons? 
     No, couldn't quite do that. He'd worked under the 
Old Man, into South and Central America, a long time. 
Common courtesy. All right. Go. Today, if he could. 
Get it over, whatever it was. Whatever they wanted, 
he could refuse, couldn't he? He was free. No, he was 
wonderfully unfree. He was married! 
      
     The cab drove down sideways from Cahuenga 
Pass, scooted east around the foot of the Griffith Park 
Hills, swung across the tilted valley, climbing. Pretty 
soon Tony had to give directions. 
     The cab went straight into the Verdugo Hills. It 
skirted a kind of mountain meadow, going up. It 
passed into a tangle of trees and shrubs. It came to 
his grandmother's house. 
     Alice could scarcely see the house for the trees 
and the vines. There were some yellowing stucco 
walls. There were short, bewildering flights of 
concrete steps, partly overgrown. Then there was a 
door. 
     An elderly maid in uniform opened it. "Oh, Mr. 
Tony!" 
     "How are you, Ellen? This is Mrs. Page." Tony was 
feeling very boyish and proud. 


                           10
 



     "Oh; how do you do, Mrs.  Page? I'll tell Mrs. 
Redfern and Mrs. Stafford." 
     Alice stood in the dim hall that seemed to her to be 
on the side of the house. It puzzled her that a maid 
had to go and tell these people that their expected 
guests were arrived. 
     The architecture bewildered her. There seemed to 
be two staircases. One curled up at their left. One 
went straight up at the other end of this dim oblong. 
The floor here was tile. A long narrow oriental rug did 
not cover it entirely. The outside wall of the hall was 
latticed window, darkened, greened over by vines. 
     A woman came into the hall and said, "Well, 
Anthony!" 
     This was Aunt Hortense, in black with pearls. She 
was very thin, with a face that was all bone, a sharp 
beaked prow, a small round hard chin, and the cheeks 
fallen in. She looks like a mummy! thought Alice. Her 
heart beat hard. Aunt Hortense repelled her. 
     "This is my wife. Alice, this is Aunt Hortense." 
     "My dear," said Hortense. She had weak blue eyes 
that did not seem to stay still. Alice touched a hand 
of cold bone, limp bone. "Come," the mummy said, 
"your grandmother is waiting." 
     Tony winked at Alice and she rallied. They 
followed Hortense who walked with staccato heels 
across the tile into a room so huge that it seemed 
indecent. There was an enormous fireplace on the 
south (front) wall. Before this a great oriental rug... 

                             11
 



softly blended of reds and browns and blues... lay 
like an inner room, wall-less within a room. Around 
the edge of this rug, furniture was stationed just as if 
it stood against an invisible wall. It was odd. 
     In one of the austere chairs on the rug's edge sat 
Tony's grandmother whose house  ­ whose shrine, 
Alice divined in a flash of insight ­ this house was. 
Hortense came into the presence with reverence. 
     Old Mrs. Redfern was small. She sat erect with the 
old-fashioned air of being in almost military control of 
her spine. She wore gray. There was white lace 
somewhere. A narrow velvet band in midnight blue 
held a cameo at her throat, an ornament that Alice had 
never seen except in a portrait. Mrs. Redfern's bones 
were built like the bones of Hortense, but on her the 
narrow beak was dainty, the small chin genteel. Her 
skin was a delicate dry dainty pink. Her hair was a 
frost, done smoothly high. Her eyes were gray, calm, 
sure. They did not openly appraise. But they 
assumed that nobody was appraising Geraldine 
Redfern. Any such activity would go the other way. 
     "My dear Alice," she said, "we are happy to see 
you." 
     "And I to be here," said Alice, touching the tiny 
firm dry hand. Eyes met. Ah yes, thought Alice, 
judgment is going to be made. 
     "Please sit down, do." 
     "You're looking well, Gran," Tony said, admiringly. 


                                12
 



     "I am well. It is two o'clock, is it not? But by your 
Chicago time, isn't it four?" 
     "That's right," Tony said. 
     "Then may I have Ellen bring you tea?" 
     Tony was looking at her fondly, his head tipped, 
his eyes drinking her in. For him, this lady brought a 
train of memories. He was absorbed in them and made 
no answer. 
     So Alice said, "Oh, thank you, but we ate on the 
plane." She wished at once that she had said, "We 
had our luncheon" or something more elegant than 
"ate." "You are very thoughtful," she stammered. 
     Mrs. Redfern's white head accepted this with a 
little tremor. "I am sure you will want to bathe and 
rest. But shall we chat a moment, the four of us?" 
     Alice, with a guilty start, realized that she had 
forgotten Hortense completely. She looked and saw 
her  ­ a stiff packet of bones on a yellow chair. Alice 
found herself trying to sit straight, which felt 
unnatural. She didn't know what to do about it, 
couldn't sag, now. She was uncomfortable. 
     "So you are in Chicago to stay, Tony dear?" asked 
his grandmother. 
     "Yes, I am, Gran. Settled down. A job. A flat. A 
wife." Tony lounged. Old affection made him easy. 
     "Are you a Chicagoan, my dear?" The calm eyes 
were inquiring of Alice. 


                             13
 



     "I come from Indiana...." Alice began. "A little 
town..." Mrs. Redfern didn't care which little town. 
Her smile accepted the state of Indiana as one blob. 
"But I was working in Chicago," Alice went on. 
     "You are very young to have been holding  a 
position, surely." The gentle voice was smooth. 
     "Holding a position," struck Alice as a fantastic 
description of her typing job. 
     "She's nineteen," Tony said, teasingly. "Not even 
twenty." 
     "Very young," repeated Mrs. Redfern. "Alone in 
Chicago?" 
     "I'd been going to college," Alice explained. "But 
after my first year, I thought it... best to work a year 
to help pay for my education." Alice knew now that 
the subject of the "chat" was going to be her own 
biography. The pressure was gentle but it was not to 
be evaded. "So I went to Chicago and got a job. But 
then I met Tony..." 
     "So there went everything," Tony said. 
"Education! Career! She's done for, all right." 
     Mrs. Redfern did not think this was amusing. 
"Your parents live in Indiana, do they still?" 
     "Yes, ma'am." 
     "Your name was Hansen? Isn't that so? Your 
father had retired, perhaps?" A roundabout way to 
ask what he did. 
     "My father is a pharmacist," said Alice. 

                            14
 



     "I beg your pardon?" 
     Alice raised her voice. "My father owns a 
drugstore. Hansen's Drugstore." 
     "I see." The voice glided over and on. "Do you 
have brothers and sisters, my dear?" Mrs. Redfern 
forgave her father for owning a drugstore. 
     "I have a brother," Alice said, hearing in her own 
voice a small defensive hostility she had not wished 
to feel. 
     "Older?" This was Hortense chipping in. 
     "No, ma'am, younger," Alice said. "Joey's still in 
high school." 
     Hortense looked rather blank, as if shed never 
heard of such a thing. 
     Then Alice had a vision of her brother Joe's big 
feet planted on this silken rug in his disreputable 
shoes. The shoe was not made that could stay 
looking reputable on those huge restless churning 
busy feet. The vision made her smile. 
     "Your parents are well?" purred Mrs. Redfern. 
     "Oh, very well, thank you.  Very  pleased," said 
Alice, "about my marrying Tony." 
     She was beaming, partly in relief. That's all,  she 
was thinking. Story of my life, so far. It occurred to 
her that she had not said how her mother spelled her 
father in the drugstore. She hesitated. To make the 
statement now would come in awkwardly. Anyhow, 
these ladies, who didn't even seem to think a public 

                              15
 



high school was natural, could not possibly imagine 
the flavor of her mother's presiding presence in the 
drugstore where the little town's pulse beat, where its 
troubles were known at the prescription counter and 
its dreams among the cosmetics and the magazines. 
     But there was a silence. Alice looked up and saw 
that Mrs. Redfern's eyes were slightly frosty. What 
did I say? thought Alice. She had said her folks were 
pleased.  But now she perceived that it was not for 
some obscure couple in Indiana to be pleased with 
Tony Page. It was for Mrs. Redfern to be pleased, or 
not pleased, with Alice Hansen. "That's all about 
me," said Alice in a slight panic. 
     "Forgive me for asking so many questions," said. 
Mrs. Redfern, "but we are so interested, you know. 
So fond of Tony." She did not say she was pleased. 
She said, "Let me tell you about this house. My 
husband built it when all these slopes below were 
vineyards and pastures. He liked the elevation and 
the seclusion. We still keep the meadow, to protect 
ourselves." 
     Alice listened to the voice going on. She got the 
impression of wealth, although Mrs. Redfern did not 
quite mention wealth. She was told that Tony's 
mother had been born here, died here. 
     "I know," Alice murmured. 
     "Hortense," said Mrs. Redfern, "is my brother's 
daughter. She and her husband very kindly live with 
me." 

                           16
 



     "But of course," said Hortense, coming in, 
gushingly. "Gregory will be home by six o'clock." 
     "And where's Bee?" asked Tony. 
     "Oh, Bee..." Hortense stirred. "She is at a meeting. 
She works too hard. Her music takes hours every day, 
and over and above that, she simply throws herself 
into these committee things." Her voice seemed to 
rattle and clang in contrast to Mrs. Redfern's silken 
notes. "Bee is not­" 
     "Beatrice will be along a little later," said the old 
lady. Her silken notes were ruthless and cut off 
Hortense. "Now perhaps you would like to see your 
room?" She rang a little bell and Ellen came. "Will you 
show Mr. and Mrs. Page to their room please, Ellen?" 
The voice altered very subtly. The quality of  this 
kindness was shaded delicately, going to a servant. 
     "Yes, ma'am," said Ellen, a willing little body, 
serving in the shrine. 
     "We'll dine at a quarter of seven," the old lady 
said. 
     Alice did not know whether to say, "Thank you" or 
"Goodbye" or just an obedient, "Yes, ma'am," very 
much like Ellen's. 
     Tony took her arm. "We'll go settle our stuff," he 
said cheerfully. "See you, Gran." 
     As Ellen led them upstairs by the straight staircase 
toward the back of the house, Alice wondered what 
had become of Mrs. Redfern's solicitude about the 
differing time zones. A quarter of seven, by Chicago 

                             17
 



standards, was a quarter of nine P.M. ­ a long time to 
wait for one's dinner. She dismissed the thought as 
mean and unworthy. She was dismayed to know that 
she did not like Tony's grandmother. Not yet. 
     The bedroom was large and comfortable, if rather 
old-fashioned. Alice looked out the window and there 
was a mountain. It was so close that she shrank away. 
A mountain had no business rearing up right outside 
one's bedroom window. But there it was. 
     Looking again, she saw that it was actually fifty or 
sixty feet away. She could look down and see the 
green tangle of the grounds. She would have to lean 
out and crane her neck to look up and see the sky, 
because this steep of earth rose like a wall. It was just 
parched dry earth, all scraggly with brown wild grass 
and strange weedy shrubs. 
     Behind her in the room Tony was saying, "You 
want a bath and a nap, hon?" 
     "Love it." They had risen early in Chicago. 
     She heard him go into the bathroom and turn on 
the water. She kept staring at the mountain. She had 
forgotten about that intuitive moment at the airport. 
All kinds of new impressions were bouncing upon 
her. She was not to know that Tony had now drawn 
on an old mask, one he knew how to wear so skillfully 
that no one ­ and certainly not Alice in this moment ­ 
could tell it was there. 
     "Tony," she said when he came up behind her, "I 
see what you mean about a lady." 

                             18
 



     "You stood up pretty well to the inquisition," he 
said, teasingly. 
     "Did I?" She turned with a gasp of relief. "I felt so 
foolish." 
     He shook her lightly, lovingly. "It's only Gran's 
way, from her own day. Antique. Hon, you could pity 
her." 
     "Oh, no! Not just because I am young­" she said, 
and Tony kissed her. 
     "You... are... a... doll..." He spaced this out to be 
emphatic. "But if you are going to nap... I think I'll go 
off. Mind?" 
     Alice was only a little surprised. "Go off where?" 
     "Thing is, I wish we'd brought Gran something." 
He jingled coins in his pocket. "If I can get the loan of 
Hortense's car..." 
     "Oh, I didn't think of, that, at all!" If I'd been a 
lady, she thought, I would have known to bring a gift. 
     "Some tokenish thing," said Tony. "You go to, 
sleep. Because"  ­ his face crinkled ­ "there's Uncle 
Greg and Cousin Bee coming up, and you may need 
your strength." 
     "Oh, Tony!" Alice wasn't feeling foolish any more. 
Was she not a doll? She had no idea that he was very 
skillfully lying to her. He kissed her again, with 
satisfactory vehemence, and then he left her. 
     In a few moments Alice saw from the window a car 
top passing through the green, underneath. 

                             19
 



     That mountainside looked hot. The westering sun 
blazed upon it. She drew the blind against it. The 
room was cool, and now very dim. Alice undressed 
dreamily. The bath was luxurious. The bed was 
immaculate and soft. 
     Alice thought, These people have had "elevation 
and seclusion" a long time. I don't know anything 
about this kind of life. How could I? Her mood was 
detached, speculative, unworried. 
     The bedroom door opened with a bang. 
     Alice started up on her elbow. 
     A tall, bony old woman in a crisp striped cotton 
dress, stood in the doorway holding a metal bucket in 
her hand. 
     Then Ellen's voice in the hall cried, "Mrs. Peele! 
Mrs. Peele! Don't go into the guest room! The guests 
are here!" 
     The woman with the bucket made a sound that was 
not a word, but a formless emission of annoyance. 
She reached in for the knob and, with a rattle of starch 
in her skirts, yanked the door sharply shut against 
herself. 
     Alice sank back, nerves a-twitter. She snuggled her 
face against the pillow. Who was that? A cleaning 
woman? Somebody willing and eager to tackle dirt.... 
     I don't  want  to be "elevated and secluded," 
thought Alice, with a curious sadness. 
      

                            20
 



     When Tony woke her, it was nearly six o'clock. 
They must dress for dinner. When they went down, it 
was Alice who gave Mrs. Redfern the pretty little 
enameled tin box. 
     "My dear, how sweet! My favorite ginger!" 
     "It was Tony who..." Alice caught up with her 
tongue and changed the verb from "bought", to 
"chose" just in time... "who ch-chose it..." she 
stammered. 
     "Dear Tony! How sweet! Alice, this is Gregory. 
This is Beatrice." 
     Uncle Gregory began to talk. They trooped into the 
dining room and his voice poured over the table in a 
tide of syllables that flooded it halfway. Alice had a 
curious impression that he was able to make it stop, 
tactfully, before it encroached upon the old lady's 
territory. For Uncle Gregory ­ a rounded, smoothly 
tanned, massaged-looking man with brown eyes that 
he kept wide open ­ deferred to Mrs. Redfern, too. 
     Alice, in her metallic blue which Tony had advised, 
with Tony's mother's silver-and-sapphire earrings 
pinching her lobes, watched who took what fork, 
what spoon, and tried to listen to Uncle Gregory. 
     He sounded as if he ought to be very interesting, 
as he shifted fluently from one civic-minded topic to 
another. But he was stupefying. He wanted... and in 
fact permitted... no response. So it wasn't 
conversation at all. He couldn't sell me any insurance, 
Alice thought, feeling her ears close defensively. She 

                            21
 



was able to marvel at the silver and the china and the 
glass. She couldn't help wondering who washed all 
these dishes, polished all this silver. There were 
service plates, whisked away after the  crabmeat 
cocktail, never to reappear. (But they'd have to be 
washed.) 
     The napkins were fine linen, embroidered with a 
long-legged R. (They'd have to be hand-laundered.) 
     Mrs. Redfern sat at the other end of the table, 
opposite the man of the house, she the mistress and 
hostess here. She wore lavender. Hortense sat at her 
husband's side, having changed to another black 
dress. (Dresses must be cleaned.) 
     I am a barbarian! thought Alice. 
     Next to Alice and on his grandmother's right, Tony 
faced his Cousin Bee. Bee, who wore green, was as 
thin as her mother, as tall as her father, and nothing 
like either. She was intense, with a burning intensity. 
Black hair. White skin. She kept talking to Tony, 
across his grandmother, with an effect of rudeness. 
Her large dark eyes rolled and flashed. Every word 
she had, so far, said to Alice was perfectly 
mechanical. Bee just didn't bother with Alice. She 
bothered with Tony, however, seeming to expect him 
to be, in some way, on her side against the world. 
     Mrs. Redfern's ladylike  calm  didn't bother with 
Bee. 
     Alice wondered. 


                            22
 



     Dinner went on for what seemed a long time. Alice 
came out at the end minus a fork and knew not where 
she had lost her way. 
     At last they left the table and proceeded to the 
huge room where they disposed themselves along the 
rug's edge. Now Uncle Greg began to talk to Mrs. 
Redfern. Their voices actually became a duet. He 
allowed  her  to respond from time to time and he 
would reply. 
     Bee was still telling Tony some long tale filled with 
unfamiliar names. 
     So Alice smiled at the one she tended to forget. 
     Hortense had some needlework in her lap. She had 
put on a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. The effect was 
odd. 
     "Do you play, Alice?" asked Hortense. 
     "Play? Oh, the piano? Only a little bit..." 
     "Won't you play for us?" 
     "I couldn't!" Alice panicked at the thought. 
     "Bee, will you play?" Hortense's thin neck made a 
preening motion. 
     "Come on, Bee," said Tony resignedly. 
     So Bee went to the huge concert grand at the far 
corner of the room and shook the foundations of the 
house with booming chords, sent flashing runs 
rippling up to the plaster. 
     Alice was impressed. "But surely you give 
concerts," she cried, when Bee stopped. 

                                23
 



     "I am  not," said Bee with what seemed to be great 
satisfaction, "good enough." 
     Alice found her mouth to have been left agape and 
humbly closed it. 
     Now the doorbell pinged. Ellen could be heard in 
the hall, greeting someone she called Doctor. The 
people in the big room simply waited, pretending to 
be deaf. "Dr. Devon," Ellen announced. 
     "Ah." Uncle Greg rose as if this news were a 
surprise. "Good evening, Walter." 
     Dr. Walter Devon was a rather nice-looking middle-
aged man, with a long jaw, a slow smile filled with 
tumbled teeth, and quite remarkable eyes. Nobody 
explained him to Alice. Tony seemed to know him of 
old. Quite evidently he was not here in a professional 
capacity. Alice thought he rather pleasantly brought 
with him an air of relating to the world below. 
     So soon as to seem abrupt, Dr. Devon and Uncle 
Greg removed to a far corner, disposed themselves at 
either side of a chess table, and fell into silence. 
     Almost at the moment that Gregory's tongue 
ceased, Hortense began to chatter. She talked on ­ 
about clubs, about clothes. Alice had the impression 
that Hortense braced herself every afternoon against 
the deluge of Gregory, but once  he was shut up for 
the night she burst forth in her own flood, in reaction. 
Oh, how lonely, Alice thought. 
     Bee was not listening. She seemed to brood. Alice 
began to realize that Bee was very conscious of the 

                            24
 



presence of Dr. Devon. Mrs. Redfern, who had picked 
up some crocheting, nodded from time to time, but 
added no comments. What a strange life here, 
thought Alice. 
     Tony said, "Gran, we are still on Chicago time, 
remember? Will you excuse us if we go to bed?" 
     So Tony got them away. 
      
     When they were upstairs Alice said, "Why  isn't 
Cousin Bee good enough, Tony? I guess I don't 
know anything about music." 
     "It's Cousin Bee you don't know about," he said. 
"She's hell-bent she'll be defeated." 
     "Why?" 
     "I don't know. She works like crazy on that piano. 
She won't do anything with it. Those committees of 
hers are another thing. Society stuff. The great issues 
she throws herself into! Shall we use pink or blue in 
the decorations? Bee wastes herself." Tony was no 
longer casual about Cousin Bee. "I don't think 
anyone is properly helping her. Hortense is all over 
Gran, always has been. Uncle Greg is lying in wait for 
the land." 
     "Land?" 
     "The meadow. It's worth a fortune. Bee is worse. I 
don't like the way she is going." 



                           25
 



     "Maybe she is so used to being... elevated," Alice 
groped, "that she is afraid to start... you know?... at 
the bottom. With music, I mean." 
     "Maybe she wanted to get married and nobody 
was good enough," said Tony sadly. "So Bee mixes 
with women and hates women.... All except Gran. Bee 
has always adored Gran. I don't like the way she acts 
toward Gran." 
     Alice remembered Bee's possessive air toward him. 
"Weren't  you  good enough?" she asked 
mischievously. 
     "Not me," said Tony promptly. "My mother 
married beneath her." 
     "Oh, good for her," sighed Alice. 
     She forgot to ask about Dr. Devon. 















                            26
 



                   CHAPTER 2 

     Morning was glorious. Even the mountain was 
shaded, cool and benign. Alice felt young and 
beloved. She had been all night in her lover's arms, 
and she must take care not to pity all other people. 
     Breakfast was served in the dining room with the 
same pomp and extravagance of dishes. Only Uncle 
Greg was there. He was evidently accustomed to 
breakfast all alone. 
     Alice was trying to guess how many people served 
in this house. She divined the presence of a cook. 
And there was Ellen, who waited on them with spry 
cheer. 
     "Who is Mrs. Peele?" she asked Uncle Gregory. 
     "Mrs. Peele? She cleans, my dear. A very hard 
worker." 
     Tony's brows went up. "How did you know about 
any Mrs. Peele?" 
     "Oh, I­" 
     The phone rang. 
     "­saw her yesterday." 
     Ellen answered, in the hall. 

                               27
 



     "She came in by mistake," Alice explained. "It was 
just a minute­" 
     Uncle Greg said, "By the way, my dear... I do 
believe Mrs. Peele also comes from Indiana..." 
     Alice had no time to respond. 
     Ellen came saying, "Long distance call for you, Mr. 
Page." 
     "Page speaking... Oh, Mr. Delgado..." 
     Tony's boss in Chicago! Alice, who had trailed him 
to the phone, stood still. 
     "I'm sorry to hear that, sir... You are at the cabin 
now?" 
     Tony's arm called Alice to his side so she stood 
within it and could hear the agitated voice at the other 
end of the connection. 
     "... broken in two places and I can't move. And 
the Carter job has gone absolutely haywire. Can you 
fly up here right away?" 
     "Why, I­" 
     "I need you. I want you to come right here to the 
cabin and be deputized. Then you can go down to 
Chicago and knock some heads together." 
     "Yes, sir. I can be in Chicago in the morning­" 
     "No, no. Fly direct to Minneapolis. Call me when 
you get in and I'll send a car. Time is of the essence." 
The voice was impatient. "This should take no more 
than a few days. You can have your full two weeks 
afterwards. On me. Did you get that? You coming?" 

                               28
 



     "Yes, sir. Where do I call you?" 
     "Lake Partridge. Ask the operator. You get here as 
quick as you can." 
     "Yes, sir. My wife and I..." 
     "Not your wife," the voice snapped. "No facilities 
in this cabin. She'd be in the way. Leave her there. 
Aren't you visiting relatives?" 
     "Yes, sir." 
     "Oh, Tony, I'll go to Chicago," Alice said. 
     "And snap into it, Page," said the voice on the 
phone. "This means a lot..." 
     "Okay, Mr. Delgado. You can expect me." 
     Tony hung up. "There it goes," he said amiably. 
     Gregory said, "Trouble?" 
     "My boss. Busted his foot. Seems to think he's 
marooned in his weekend cabin." 
     "Where's that?" 
     "Minnesota. Meantime, something drastic has 
happened in the office." Tony shrugged. 
"Seventy-five million things are always ready to go 
wrong in the building business." 
      "Tony, I'll go home and wait there for you," Alice 
said eagerly. 
     "No," he said drawling out the syllable 
thoughtfully. "Stay here, honey. That's okay, isn't it, 
Uncle Greg?" 


                             29
 



     "Certainly," said Uncle Greg. "Too bad, laddie. But 
we'd love to keep Alice." 
     Alice wanted to cry:  No. Don't leave me here! 
Please! 
     "Look, my angel," said her husband, "I don't want 
you alone in Chicago, waiting for me, when it's 
possible I can get stuck... I want to know you're safe 
and sound..." 
     Tony's eyes flickered and Alice knew that Uncle 
Greg had drifted off, because Tony said, "Maybe 
you'll be bored stiff, but you will be safe and sound, 
honey, and that matters to me. This is evidently a real 
mess and I'll have to concentrate. Anyhow, 
Delgado's going to send me back again and then 
we... boy, will we take advantage! Palm Springs! On 
him! La Jolla?" 
     Alice said gravely, "All right, Tony." 
     He kissed her. She had not been bribed, as he 
could tell. 
     Tony began to call airline ticket offices. 
     So that morning was all rumpled and upset with 
Tony's emergency plans. When she heard the news, 
Mrs. Redfern agreed that Alice must stay. But she 
prodded Tony. He was required to explain to her who 
this man in Minnesota was, and by what right he 
interrupted her grandson's plans. The values ranking 
in her mind did not seem to include economic 
pressures at all. It was like explaining to a child what a 
job is, what a boss is. 

                              30
 



     By eleven o'clock, Tony was all set. Flight for 
Minneapolis, going out at 3 P.M. He'd get the bus in 
Hollywood. Take the one-thirty, giving him time to 
pick up his ticket. 
     Alice had packed for him. At noon she was closing 
his suitcase. Tony was leaning over the dresser, 
signing traveler's checks for her. "Get Uncle Greg to 
cash these for you." 
     "Tony, I won't need all those." 
     "You might." 
     "Oh, Tony, do you think it will be so long?" 
     "Can't tell until I see. With luck, four days, five. A, 
week at the most." 
     Alice started over to the window to look out at the 
dreary mountain. She was wondering how to endure 
even part of a week here in this house without him. 
Then somebody screamed. 
     Tony stiffened. "What's that?" There had been, 
entangled with the scream, a thump. A fall? 
     Whatever Tony had in his hands fell on the 
dressertop. His hands scrabbled. The top drawer 
opened and closed. Alice was on his heels out the 
bedroom door. 
     A railed passage went around above the oblong of 
the lower hall. Hortense stood halfway along, having 
screamed. At the front of the house, old Mrs. Redfern 
was lying against the jamb of her door. Tony rushed 
to her. 

                              31
 



     Cousin Bee came out of a door halfway back. Bee 
simply glowered. Hortense stood still, hysterically 
helpless. 
     "I am afraid I  tripped on that mop," said Mrs. 
Redfern with surprising aplomb. She was decorous, 
even on the floor. "So sorry," she said. "Thank you, 
Tony." 
     Tony was kneeling, his back young, supple, and 
strong. His one arm held her around her shoulders. 
The fingers of the other hand were gentle upon his 
grandmother's thin ankle. "Does that hurt, Gran?" 
     "It does, rather," she said. 
     Something scuttled in the upper hall at the far end. 
Alice glanced over her shoulder but saw nothing. 
     Tony looked up at the three women standing there, 
and chose one. "Alice, call the doctor. There's a 
phone up here... hall table..." 
     "The number?" Alice asked quietly. 
     Neither Hortense nor Bee said a number. They 
were both useless, not functioning, thrown out of 
mesh by sheer surprise. 
     "Look in the book," said Tony impatiently. 
     So Alice turned, knowing that he was gathering the 
old lady up in his arms, and went back along the 
railing to the telephone. It was dark back here. Alice 
missed seeing the book in which the family's 
collection of phone numbers were written. She took 
the other book... the printed public one. Couldn't 

                              32
 



see. Dragged the phone on its long cord, and the 
book, into her bedroom where the light was better. 
Book on the dresser. Found Dr. Walter Devon's 
number. The only doctor whose name she knew. 
     "Dr Devon, this is Alice Page, at Mrs. Redfern's 
house. Mrs. Redfern has had a fall. She has injured 
her ankle, at least. Could you come?" 
     "In ten minutes," the doctor said. "Keep her quiet." 
     So Alice put the phone down, feeling comforted by 
the contact of her own efficiency with his. Must 
return the phone­ 
     She saw, then, a bit of white paper on the dresser, 
with typing on it. 
      Lv. L.A. 2:30 P.M.  Ar. Dallas 8:00 P.M. 
     Lv. Dallas 9: 00 P.M.     Ar. Mexico City 2:00 P.M. 
      
     What in the world? Alice touched it. It was real. 
She remembered the movements of Tony's hands and 
slowly she pulled open the top drawer. Saw the 
traveler's checks in a heap within. Saw an envelope. 
Saw the plane tickets in it. Read the word Mexico. 
     Then she knew that the bit of white paper was the 
record of Tony's true itinerary. 
     She dropped it into the drawer and closed the 
drawer. 




                               33
 



     She took the phone and phone book back into the 
hall, put them where they belonged, and went along 
to see whether she could help. 
     When she was out of her bedroom, a white head 
popped out of Alice's bathroom. Striped shoulders 
followed. "Where'd I leave my mop, I wonder?" 
muttered Mrs. Peele, to the empty air. 
      
     In the front bedroom Alice found Hortense jittering 
and Bee scolding her mother's alarm, while Mrs. 
Redfern waited quietly for the doctor. 
     There was some flurry about him when he came. 
For a reason Alice couldn't quite fathom he was not 
the right doctor. Yet he would do. 
     All became clear, gradually. The cleaning woman, 
Mrs. Peele, had carelessly left her  wet mop leaning 
against Mrs. Redfern's door and the old lady had 
stumbled over it and fallen, spraining her ankle 
slightly. Nothing to be alarmed about. 
     The doctor bound up the ankle. Bee trailed him 
down the stairs as he left. Ellen said tremulously that 
luncheon was served. And Tony pleaded his plane. 
     Mrs. Redfern, of course, remained in her room and 
Hortense with her. But in a moment or two Bee, 
red-eyed, joined the Pages at the luncheon table. Bee 
had been weeping. 
     "Gran's all right, Bee," Tony said gently. 



                             34
 



     "I know that," flared his cousin. So Tony talked 
about the building business. 
     "I'll drive you to Hollywood, Tony," Alice said, as 
they were finishing the meal, "if I can have a car..." 
     "Honey, you could get awful lost in this town." 
     "I can take him, I suppose," Bee said, dispiritedly. 
     "No, I want to do it," said Alice, "by myself. 
Please?" 
     "Oh, certainly." Bee's lips were contemptuous of 
newlyweds and love. 
      
     So Alice drove Bee's Ford, while Tony tried to 
impress upon her which way she was going so that 
she could get back again. 
     "What was Bee crying about?" asked Alice, as 
soon as they started off. 
     "God knows," said Tony sadly. "Gran, I guess. 
She's pretty confused. In fact, she's ­ Hortense told 
me this ­ Bee is Dr. Devon's patient." 
     "Patient?" 
     "In a kind of irregular, friendly way I guess. He is a 
psychiatrist-psychologist. One of those." 
     "Oh? Oh dear!" 
     "I expect she's got five million complexes or 
whatever," said Tony, gloomily. "She's wound up in 
knots. Don't you pay Bee any mind. Hon, you'll be all 
right." 

                              35
 



     "Um-hum..." She waited. 
     "I'll wire as soon as I find out what the score is. I'll 
miss your birthday. But this is the way it is." 
     "I know." 
     He went on talking about Minnesota. When they 
had got down across the valley and were on the 
stretch, around the bottom of the hills, she waited no 
longer. Alice said quietly, "Tony, I'll have to tell you 
this. I saw your itinerary." 
     He made no reply. 
     "You are going to Dallas and then to Mexico?" 
     "How did you happen to see it?" he asked quietly. 
     "You left the paper  on your dresser when your 
grandmother fell." 
     "Now," said Tony soberly, "by rights and by rules, 
I shouldn't go at all." 
     Alice said nothing but her heart jumped, hoping. 
     "Ought to be taken off the job. Trouble is, how can 
I be? I'm the only one who can do it." Alice realized 
that he was very upset. "Alice, my darling, I wish you 
hadn't seen," he said unhappily. 
     "I needn't tell..." she said, not looking away from 
the road. 
     He groaned. 
     "I can keep a secret," she said gravely, proudly. 
"Don't you know that, Tony?" 


                              36
 



     "I believe you, my darling," Tony said. "But... you 
don't know..." 
     "Then, could you tell me?" Alice was quiet and 
patient. 
     "Evidently I don't have to tell you I was going to 
Mexico." He was bitter and it hurt very much. 
     "On a job, you said? For the ­ the service?" 
     "Yes, I was called. I went to see... an old boss of 
mine. Fellow we call the Old Man. Yesterday. I think 
I'll have to tell you some of this. It can't matter, now 
that I won't be going... ." He sounded very bitter. 
     "What is it?" she asked. 
     "Basically, it's narcotics. Which I never had 
anything to do with." His voice got bitter again. "And 
won't now." 
     "Tony­" She felt like crying. "I wish I hadn't 
spoken." 
     "It's damn good you did." 
     "You're making me feel terrible," she said, 
honestly. 
     "Listen." He faced her. "I'll  tell  you. There is a 
man, here, in this town. He is... well, you could call 
him a traitor. He's employed by importers of drugs, 
over the border. Tips them off every time there's any 
kind of raid planned here. He must have sources here 
from inside. It's driving the authorities slightly crazy. 
Where  I  come in... it seems that I happen to be 
personally acquainted with the man at the Mexico 

                            37
 



City end of the line. Big shot in the international drug 
business. Big Frank's his nickname. He knows  me 
under a cover name from another job, two years ago. 
And that's why nobody could do this job but me..." 
He mourned, as she could tell. 
     "Do what, Tony?" she asked, meekly. 
     "Look, I could have shown up in Mexico in my old 
character. I could have talked to him. He knew me as 
a... well, somebody on the criminal side of the fence." 
Tony sounded dreary now. "Suppose I could have 
gotten, at the very best, a name...? Or a phone 
number? Something to indicate to them here who this 
traitor is?  Then they could jump him, stop, him. It 
would scarcely be evidence. But it would be 
knowledge and they could dig for evidence later. I'm 
the one man who could have tried..." 
     "I understand," she said. She still felt the hurt. 
"Your boss, Mr. Delgado, isn't ­ didn't...?" She was 
groping past the lies  she had been told, that were 
hurting her, also. 
     "That was all rigged," Tony said, somewhat 
impatiently. "Herb Innes did it." 
     "Innes?" 
     "Man we bumped into at the airport. Sent to 
contact me. Then sent on to Minnesota to fix me a 
cover. I'm supposed to get lost in the North woods 
long enough..." 
     "And I wasn't supposed to know where you really 
were?" she asked numbly. 

                           38
 



     "No, you were part of the cover. How I wish you 
didn't know!" 
     "Why?" 
     "Because, my darling, your knowing stops the 
whole project." He was sunk in  gloom and 
disappointment. 
     "Tony?" 
     "Yes." 
     "I wouldn't tell." 
     "If I go now," he said dully, "my life will be in your 
hands." 
     Alice looked at him. "Well?" she said, rather 
coldly. 
     His eyes changed as if now he saw her instead of 
his own problem. "I'd leave it there any day," he said, 
warmly. "But it's more difficult than you know..." 
     "Tell me how difficult." 
     "All right." Tony's eyes sent her a flash, a 
communication, a certain respect. "Here is the worst 
part of it. The Old Man is inclined to think ­ he has a 
pure guess that this traitor may be  ­ Dr. Walter 
Devon.  Now  do you see? Uncle Greg is his crony. 
They play chess, as you saw, and you've heard how 
Uncle Greg runs off at the mouth. Devon comes to the 
house couple of times a week. He  treats Bee. She'd 
have no secrets from him whatever. Damn it, I don't 
like Bee in his hands. That's one reason I wanted ­ 
well, too bad. But don't you see? If you, knowing the 

                             39
 



secret, were to let on to any member of the family 
where I'd really gone... and that gets to Devon, and 
Devon is the traitor... why, the word goes over their 
communication line  ­ which does exist, believe me. 
My description goes over. And I am dead. Not a 
figure of speech, Alice. Corpse-dead." 
     "Nobody," said Alice, in panic shrillness, "in the 
family, or anywhere on earth, will ever know from me." 
Her heart was shaken. She was terrified. "Oh, Tony, 
would there have been danger for you anyway?" 
     "Not a lot," Tony said easily. He used the easy 
voice to calm her. "No, this man in Mexico would 
have no reason to distrust me, except as he naturally 
distrusts everybody. I could have handled that. 
Whether I would have got anything useful..." 
     "You think you would have." This was statement. 
     "Hoped." Tony moved restlessly. 
     "I will not tell anyone," Alice said, very low. "You 
can be absolutely sure of that. But ­ don't go." 
     "I can refuse now," he comforted her quickly. 
"They'll get him, finally, some other way ­ in time." 
     "In time?" she quavered. Something in his voice 
frightened her. 
     "Yes, time. Frankly, I don't know what I should do. 
What I'm worth." 
      "Couldn't you ask this... this Old Man?" she 
queried, lost and out of her depth. 


                            40
 



     But Tony said, "I'm... not obliged. I never was. 
But after they talked to me yesterday, I wanted to go. 
On account of the family. On account of Bee. And 
also ­ they peddle this stuff to high-school kids," he 
said. 
     Alice saw her brother Joey's feet, which were to 
her suddenly the symbols of his energy and curiosity 
and inexperienced courage. Her heart leaped. But this 
was monstrous! 
     "I guess you ought to go and do what you can," 
she said, "to stop that." Her heart was pounding. 
     "Ought," he said bitterly. "Ought." He groaned. 
Then he began to talk fast. "If I go, a letter will come 
for you from Minnesota. And a birthday telegram. I 
wrote them out yesterday afternoon in the Old Man's 
office. Herb Innes is back there, covering for me." He 
groaned. "It isn't just a matter of keeping still. It's my 
old business, Alice. It means telling lies. You'd have 
to pretend I'm in Minnesota. You haven't had the 
training. You're not an actress. Are you?" 
     "No," she said, "except that all females are, 
somewhat." Her lips felt frozen. 
     "Turn left, up the hill," he said. 
     They went up a hill in silence. "Over the bridge and 
left again," he directed at the top. "We are almost 
there. I don't know what to do. I  could  be lucky. 
Solve it fast. I was all steamed up to do it. But 
suppose  ­ it was the end of me? You'd feel... I 
haven't any right to leave you in such a spot. I 

                              41
 



cannot go. If you were to look cross-eyed at Dr. 
Devon..." 
     "But Dr. Devon..." Alice frowned. "How could he 
be the one?" 
     "Could," Tony said sharply. "Honey, I've been in a 
world where nothing is what it seems." 
     `I don't see where he'd be able to find out­" 
     "The Old Man does. Devon is... personally 
close... to an inside person," said Tony painfully. 
"Makes it tough for the Old Man. Especially since 
he's got nothing in the way of evidence. Nothing but 
his sense of smell." 
      "But narcotics? A doctor? A healer?" 
     "We trust them," exploded Tony. "And rightfully 
so. And if Devon is using his honorable profession... 
he is a traitor ten times over." Tony grimaced. 
"There's a lot of money in drugs, you know." 
     "Money!" she gasped. "I can't... I don't..." 
     "You wouldn't," he said sadly, "know about things 
like that." 
     Alice thought, Then there are degrees of elevation 
and seclusion. I think  I've seen seamier sides than 
Mrs. Redfern has. But Tony's seen much worse. Seen 
evil. And fought it. What are we here for anyhow? To 
make ourselves comfortable? To keep ourselves 
ladies and gentlemen? Or... Tears swam into her 
eyes, because she could tell that under fear, under 
tension and danger, under all of that, there was a spot 

                            42
 



of fierce joy. To be tested was not merely an ordeal. It 
was life. 
     "Go," she said, impulsively. 
     "Sweetheart." Then Tony changed. "I'll tell you 
what you'll do!" he cried. "The whole point of 
keeping you out of Chicago is gone. Now that you 
know why can't you just go back to Chicago? That's 
good! That gets you out of range. I think I can still 
go." 
     "Oh, I'd rather," sighed Alice. "I'd so much rather 
go home­" 
     "Right. Tomorrow. Okay? Now, you've got enough 
money? You get a plane as early as you can." 
     "I will," said Alice. "Yes, I will." 
     "And I'll call the Old Man. Stop the letter and the 
telegram." 
     "Right," she said. 
     They drove on. They were in Hollywood now. 
Their nerves vibrated with the relief of a decision. 
     "But will you write me, Tony?" Alice said. 
     "No," he said. "No, darling." 
     "How long?" 
     "Just can't say. They routed me around by Dallas 
in case of a check. I change names there. But I'll come 
back to L.A. direct. When I land back here, I'll call 
home." 
     "All right." 

                               43
 



      "Be careful, darling. You will have tonight at the 
house. It's not one of Devon's nights. Just play 
dumb." 
     "I will never tell," she said in her grave sweet way. 
"But I'm not sorry I know. I'd rather not be left out." 
     "Ah, love," he said, "I never want to leave you out 
and this will be the end..." 























                             44
 



                  CHAPTER 3 

     She left him at the hotel, took the wrench bravely. 
On her way back along the route she kept herself 
busy making plans. Tell the family that she and Tony 
had decided she'd better be nearer him. Call for a 
reservation. Tomorrow. In Chicago, she could wait 
and worry alone... but in her own place in her own 
way, and that was so much better. Tony would do 
this job. She understood. Exultantly, she understood 
how he wanted to go. 
     She drove around the mountain meadow and past 
the shrouded house to the garage, went in at the 
back, where the cook, a dumpy woman in her sixties, 
nodded, and Ellen spoke. 
     "Oh, Mrs. Page, Mrs. Redfern's sleeping. Mrs. 
Stafford is resting, too. Miss Beatrice is at the piano." 
     "That's all right," said Alice. "I have things to do." 
(I'll pack.) 
     She ran upstairs, music pursued her. Bee was 
rocking the house. They are not really sleeping or 
resting, she thought, they are just in seclusion. Then 
she began to be able to hear the vacuum cleaner from 


                             45
 



the open door of her bedroom. She went into her 
bedroom and there was Mrs. Peele. 
     Mrs. Peele put a long flat foot in a white oxford on 
the vacuum's switch and stopped it. "'Bout through," 
she said apologetically. "I'll polish your bathtub up a 
bit, and I'm done." 
     Alice smiled a little uncertainly. 
     The old woman was fiercely clean. She had pure 
white hair, drawn tight, and sharp black eyes that 
were a surprise on the colorless face. "Got him off, did 
you, Miz Page?" She seemed to wish to be friendly. 
     "Yes, thank you." 
     "Imagine!" said Mrs. Peele with admiration. 
"Mexico City!" 
     After one moment of stunned stillness, Alice 
reached behind her and shut the bedroom door. 
"What did you say?" 
     "Mexico City, I said. Long ways, ain't it?" 
     "My husband has gone to Minnesota," Alice said. 
     The old woman had a mobile mouth that had been 
speaking through a half-smile, conciliatory, anxious to 
please. Now the mouth turned prim. "I thought you 
saw his ticket," she said. "I seen you look in the 
drawer, Miz Page." The eyes were taking offense. 
Don't try to fool me, they said. 
     Alice was starting to shake. She fought to control 
this. 
     "Mrs. Peele... isn't that your name?" 

                              46
 



     "That's right, Miz Page." 
     Alice took a few steps toward the woman. She was 
making herself smile and it hurt her face. "Mrs. Peele, 
aren't you from Indiana?" 
     "That's right. How did you know?" The offended 
look vanished. 
     "Oh, I could tell," Alice smiled even harder. "I 
know it, because so am I!" 
     "Don't say? What part, dear?" The question was 
mechanical. 
     "Crawfordsville." 
     "That so? Well, I'se born in Gary." 
     "We are both from Indiana." 
     Mrs. Peele cocked her head. "What's that got to 
do with Mexico City?" The black eyes mocked at her. 
They rolled up and down Alice's trim body. Alice had 
made a mistake. To call herself a fellow Hoosier had 
destroyed the woman's need to respect a guest in 
this house. Alice swallowed. 
     "Have you said anything about Mexico to 
anyone?" 
     "No." Mrs. Peele was brief and positive. 
     "You're sure?" 
      "I been in here since you went. 'Cause I couldn't 
get in all morning. You don't catch me talking to them 
in the kitchen." Mrs. Peele made a contemptuous 
sound. "They think they're high-class, living-in 
here." The eyes were very bright. The woman was full 

                            47
 



of anger. Her very energy stemmed from essential 
anger. "What's the matter, Miz Page?" she inquired, 
slyly. 
     Alice felt her wits reaching for a way... what 
way?... some way... to protect him. She said slowly, 
"I'll tell you a secret." 
     Mrs. Peele seemed to relish this. The eyes turned 
wise. 
     "My husband is on some business," said Alice in a 
low confidential tone. "He  ­ might make a lot of 
money. But people must think he's gone to 
Minnesota." 
     Mrs. Peele's lips compressed. She nodded. 
     "Oil wells, you see," improvised Alice. 
     Mrs. Peele knew all about oil wells, her nod said. 
     "So would you do me a favor? Don't mention my 
husband's trip to anyone at all?" 
     "'Course not." The voice was hearty but the glow 
in the sharp black eyes didn't inspire confidence. 
"Supposed to be gone to Minnesota, eh? Well!" 
     The woman turned to the dressing table where 
Alice's things were spread. She began to dust 
vigorously, moving everything. "You got some pretty 
jewelry," she said after a long minute. "I like jewelry, 
myself." 
     The cloth had stopped moving. The room was still 
for a breath or two. Then Alice moved. "Is there 
anything here that you would like to have?" she 

                              48
 



asked, keeping her voice cheerful. She could see the 
woman's face in the glass. The eyes roved avidly 
over the table top. "If you are nice enough to do me a 
favor," Alice said, sick inside with fear for Tony, "I'd 
love to give you a little present. Do you like pearls?" 
     "That's right," said Mrs. Peele. 
     Alice rummaged her "jewel" box, which was three-
quarters full of costume jewelry, and picked out a fat 
triple strand, a choker. "Would you like these?" 
     Mrs. Peele hesitated, in some conflict. "From 
Indiana, eh?" she said, resolving it finally. "Say, it's 
always nice to meet somebody from back home." 
     "I think so too," said Alice as warmly as she could. 
"Why don't you try these on?" She shifted away. 
Mrs. Peele took the pearls in her sinewy hands. She 
held them up to her throat. "Can't get the dohinkus 
fastened. It ain't broke, is it?" Suspiciously. 
     "Oh no! Here. Let me help you." 
     Alice reached up, for the woman was very tall. 
Alice took the clasp in fingers that felt thick. "It's not 
hard when you get onto it," she said chattily. "Do 
you like them?" 
     "Kinda pretty," said Mrs. Peele. "Expensive, are 
they?" 
     "Oh, not too  ­ but they  are good ones. From 
Marshall Field's..." 
     "Is that right?" Mrs. Peele had heard of Marshall 
Field's. 

                             49
 



     "I beg your pardon!" said the voice of Hortense 
Stafford in a gasp of surprise. 
     Alice turned her head and there she was, elegant, 
mummified, in the half-open door. Her astonished face 
was turning cold. "I knocked," she said righteously, 
"but I am afraid Bee's music..." 
     Alice did not guiltily drop her hands from their 
task. Her fingers kept on trying to make the two ends 
of the clasp meet. "Just a minute," she said sweetly, 
implying that Hortense was an interruption that could 
very well wait. "Oh, I see what it is, Mrs. Peele," she 
said, "I had the thing upside down. Now I've got it. 
There." Only after this did Alice say, "Won't you 
come in, Mrs. Stafford?" 
     The old cleaning woman turned around, fingering 
the pearls. She made her face and posture meek, but 
Alice knew that her eyes were maliciously pleased 
with Hortense's discomfort. 
     "I only came to ask if Tony got off all right." 
Hortense was cool. 
     "Oh yes, he did," said Alice. "Thank you." 
     "And to say that Aunt Geraldine suggests you 
might care to come talk to her, Alice. If you have a 
moment..." A dagger shot from Hortense's eyes. 
     Alice smiled. "Mrs. Peele comes from Indiana, too," 
she said gaily. "Did you know that?" 
     "Does she, indeed?" said Hortense frigidly. Then 
Hortense went away. 


                             50
 



     Mrs. Peele was now smiling as wide as her mouth 
could go. None of the overtones in the scene had 
escaped her. Neither Hortense's class-conscious 
horror nor Alice's deliberate partisanship. "Thanks, 
Miz Page, dear," she said chummily. "Thanks a lot, I 
really appreciate these pearls, I really do." 
     "I'm glad you like them. You'll remember what I 
said?" 
     "Listen, I wouldn't tell them nothing," said Mrs. 
Peele with enthusiasm. "You and me, we don't have 
to tell them our business. Let them mind their own 
business, that's what I say. Okay if I do your tub 
now?" 
     "Okay," said Alice. "And I suppose I had 
better..." 
     "You better go talk to the Duchess," said Mrs. 
Peele, in nasal tones. A vicious resentment ripped out 
of her. "Ain't she the Duchess, though? She thinks! 
If she didn't keep her nose in the air so high all the 
time she'd a seen where I left the mop. But not her. 
The way she sticks her nose in the air." 
     "I know," said Alice, "you certainly didn't mean to 
make anybody fall. It was just an accident. It could 
have happened to anyone." 
     "That's right," said Mrs. Peele with virtuous pride. 
"Well, it is sure nice to meet somebody from home." 
Mrs. Peele's hand fell heavily on Alice's shoulder. 
Alice did not wince; she smiled. Mrs. Peele took her 
tall bones into the bathroom, wearing pearls. 

                            51
 



     Our business, thought Alice. What is that? 
Bribery? Oh, have I done right? What can I do? 
     She knew that she could not go to Chicago 
tomorrow. She could not leave this place, with this 
woman and her knowledge in it. Alice would have to 
stay, to keep Mrs. Peele quiet. 
     She heard Tony saying, "My life in your hands." 
     She couldn't trust Mrs. Peele an inch. The woman 
was full of spite. She couldn't be appealed to on the 
basis of life or death for Tony. This would only excite 
her to the point where the secret would burst out of 
her because it would make her so important. Alice 
knew this beyond any doubt. 
     Nothing to do, then, but try to keep her quiet. 
Succeed in keeping her quiet, for Tony's life! 
     NO! NO! She couldn't do it! It was too perilous! 
     Alice slipped into the hall. She wouldn't use this 
phone, in Mrs. Peele's earshot, so she hurried to the 
instrument below. She called the airport. If Tony 
hadn't left he  must not leave. It was altogether too 
dangerous now. 
     She hung on the phone while they paged him, her 
finger stuffed tight into her right ear against Bee's 
music. The music stopped and Bee came into the 
lower hall. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were on the 
phone." 
     Alice took her finger away. "I'm trying to reach 
Tony. I forgot something." 


                            52
 



     "Oh," said Bee glancing at her watch. "Well, you 
should have time." Bee brushed on going upstairs. 
     It was just 2:45 by the clock on the wall. Alice 
realized that he  must have flown off already. Had it 
not said, on the piece of white paper, Lv. L.A. 2:30? 
He was on the plane to Dallas now. 
     Alice put down the phone and tried to think. Call 
people who also knew the secret? But she didn't 
know the Old Man's name, or where he was, or even 
within what organization he functioned. She didn't 
even know, she realized, what name Tony himself was 
using from Dallas on. How could she, even if she 
knew how to try, catch him in Dallas, before he 
jumped out of the country? 
     It was already too late. 
     She rose slowly. Mrs. Peele was coming down the 
stairs accoutered with brushes and bucket. They 
passed. Alice gave her a conspirator's smile and 
received its sly, satisfied counterpart. 
     Alice went up to talk to Mrs. Redfern. 
     "I understand," said that dainty lady, from the 
throne of her bed where she lay wrapped in fleecy 
pink, "that you knew our Mrs. Peele in Indiana?" 
     Hortense hadn't taken long to pass the word, 
thought Alice bitterly. Inaccurate word, too. She was 
about to protest the inaccuracy when she said to 
herself: Wait, Hortense jumped to a conclusion. But 
this could be good, could seem to explain­ 


                                  53
 



     A female is a natural actress, she'd said to Tony. 
Or, to put it differently, a natural liar? Tony's old 
business took talent for lying. He had told her so. 
Now Alice was in Tony's old business. She must lie 
and pretend for her own secret objective, which was 
Tony's safety. 
     So she lied smoothly, "Why, yes," she said. "Isn't 
that amazing?" 
     Mrs. Redfern said, "I understand, my dear, that 
you must, of course, be gracious to Mrs. Peele. Tell 
me, do your parents have servants in the house?" 
     Mrs. Redfern doubted it. If they had, Alice would 
have learned long ago  not  to be found fastening 
pearls upon the cleaning woman's neck. Alice 
perceived all this clearly. Mrs. Redfern, obliquely, was 
instructing a member of the lower classes. 
     But Alice was a dedicated liar now. Good! she 
thought. Let me be lower class. Let me be something 
Tony married beneath him. What does it matter? But I 
am going to have to be more than "gracious" to Mrs. 
Peele in the next few days. 
     So she said, pretending to misunderstand 
innocently, "Oh no, ma'am, Mrs. Peele wasn't any 
servant. She's a very old friend of my mother's." And 
Alice smiled. 
     "Is that so, my dear?" Mrs. Redfern's murmur was 
polite. If her eyes showed a little dismay, this did not 
count, since the voice was gentle, the surface was 


                           54
 



unruffled. Everyone is some kind of a liar, thought 
Alice. 
     Mrs. Redfern changed the subject. "We must think 
of something to entertain you. Some people are 
invited for tonight. We had planned a musicale, to 
present you and Tony..." 
     The gray eyes were flat. Alice could not help 
meeting them somewhat saucily. "Oh, you mustn't," 
she said. "You don't want to present just me." 
     "I think perhaps," said Mrs. Redfern, coolly, "we 
had better postpone it." 
     Now Alice caught herself up. No, no, she must not 
be saucy. "Please don't worry about me at all," she 
begged earnestly. "You must rest your poor ankle. I'll 
wait for Tony." 
     "It will be dull for you, Alice," said Mrs. Redfern. 
     "I am not used to a house like this," said Alice, 
gushingly. "It's all so lovely. So new to me." 
     The gray eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 
     When Alice found herself gracefully dismissed, ten 
minutes later, she went downstairs slowly, listening 
to the house. She did not know where anyone was or 
who might be talking to whom. She felt now as if all 
her thinking, acting, reacting had been done 
impulsively in a few mo ments of panic. 
     Could she riot, after all, speak openly to Tony's 
own people? Surely if they could be brought to 
understand that Tony's life might really be in the 

                             55
 



balance, then they would help her. They, too, would 
try to keep Mrs. Peele quiet. 
     But could they? No one could order her not to tell. 
And Mrs. Peele resented them.  But Alice  ­ and 
perhaps only Alice  ­ could coax her, conspire with 
her, and keep her from telling. 
     From telling whom? 
     Dr. Devon? 
     But Mrs. Peele would scarcely tell Dr. Devon 
directly. It would be through Uncle Greg. 
     And what about Uncle Greg? Would he believe 
with any readiness that his crony, Dr. Devon, might 
be a dangerous criminal, mixed in with the drug 
traffic? Alice didn't know Uncle Greg very well. But 
she reflected that even if he did believe this to be 
possible, then Uncle Greg would be faced with the 
task of keeping the secret from Dr. Devon. And could 
he? Was Uncle Greg any kind of actor? 
     Also, there was Bee, emotionally tangled with Dr. 
Devon, who was her confessor. 
     Also (Alice's heart shook with the onrush of so 
many anxieties), was Dr. Devon the only possibly 
dangerous one? For all Alice knew, Mrs. Peele might 
be in touch with others somewhere in this city. Who 
could say where the tentacles of this criminal 
operation might lie hidden? The news of Tony's real 
destination mustn't... 
     Yet why was that so dangerous? Merely the news 
of Tony's destination? What would it prove to 

                            56
 



anyone who heard about it? Even if the woman told 
somebody that he was going to Mexico City, how 
could anybody guess what his job was there? 
     Alice couldn't understand this very clearly. But it 
came to her that she did know one thing, surely. Tony 
had  said it was dangerous to him if his destination 
were known. She could only believe it. And she had 
promised him  ­ a half a dozen times ­ that she would 
never tell. Therefore she could not tell. And over and 
above that simple duty, she would not let Mrs. Peele 
tell, either 
     So it was simple enough, what her duty was. How 
to do it wasn't so simple. 
     But Alice was not going to find it dull. 
     She had wandered into the big room; Bee was 
there, reading. "Oh, hi," Bee said. 
     "What days does Mrs. Peele come?" Alice asked 
her. 
     "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. 
Why?" 
     "She comes early, doesn't she?" 
     "Oh, yes... and leaves early. Leaves about four. 
Why?" 
     "Then she hasn't left?" 
     "It's quarter of." Bee glanced at her wrist. "What's 
this about?" 



                               57
 



     "She's turned out to be an old friend of my 
mother's, you know." Alice repeated this lie with 
ease. 
     Bee's dark brows rose on the white forehead. 
"That's awkward, isn't it?" 
     "I don't think so," said Alice, gently. 
     "Where did Tony meet you?" The accents were 
even. Bee had just enough grace not to come down 
on the pronoun you. 
     Alice said demurely, "He picked me up." 
     "Wha-at?" 
     Alice smiled. "People do," she said. It was true. In 
the real world, people did. Tony had. He had seen her 
on a bus. Got off when she did. Male in pursuit, in the 
real world, which is essentially the same old jungle. 
Had intervened with his nickel when Alice had 
fumbled for change, buying the evening paper at her 
corner. 
     Tony had said, "I followed you. I had to." 
     Alice, searching his face, trying to read the 
strangeness of it, had said, "Why?" 
     Tony had said, "Because I want to get to know 
you. How can I get myself introduced?" 
     Alice had said, gravely and realistically, "Lots of 
ways. You can find out whose office I'm in and fake 
some business with my boss. You could follow me to 
church on Sunday." 
     "I will do that," he had said, enthusiastically. 

                              58
 



     She'd said, with the grave air that was peculiar to 
her, "All it would mean is that you want to know me." 
     Tony had said, "That's the meaning of it. I think 
it's partly your nose, but I don't know what it is. 
Frankly, I've got to find out what it is." 
     They had been so happily "honest" and "realistic" 
and mutually enchanted. They'd gone into a 
hamburger joint, right there, next to the newsstand, to 
discuss Alice's nose or whatever, and Tony's 
premonition. 
     If marriages are made in heaven, heaven's around 
us, where we can't guess it's going to be. Heaven's 
on a bus, heaven's at a newsstand. Heaven comes 
smelling of onions and catsup. Heaven's accidental 
to this world. Angels come in obliquely. Alice smiled 
over this. 
     Then, in the huge room in Tony's grandmother's 
house, his Cousin Bee said scornfully, "Oh, I 
suppose they do." As if she were not people. People 
were somebody else. 
     Alice pitied her. 
     "You were never properly introduced?" Bee said. 
"Really?" 
     Alice smiled. "Actually, we were introduced in 
church, one day, by one of the elders..." 
     Bee's face showed a rise of anger. "You've been 
pulling my leg, I think," she murmured, and looked 
back upon her book. 


                            59
 



     But Tony had turned up in church the following 
Sunday. And he had "known," as people say, one of 
the elders. Dear, wonderful Tony! Then he had gone 
down to Crawfordsville with Alice, for the next 
weekend, and he had had a long talk with her father. 
Alice thought it had all been perfectly proper... and 
perfect, too. 
     But now her mind fled to the problem, here and 
now. Be sure Mrs. Peele told nobody, anywhere. She 
had better catch the woman on her way out. 
     Bee said, casually, "How old are you, Alice?" 
     "I'll be twenty tomorrow." The answer came out of 
Alice's mouth without thought. Then she 
remembered that Tony had stopped the telegram. No 
word from him on her birthday? That would seem 
strange. "Oh, please don't tell anyone, Bee," she 
begged. "Promise me? I don't want a fuss made. 
Please?" 
     "Up to you." Bee shrugged indifferently. 
     "Please excuse me," said Alice. 
     She drifted, quaking, into the oblong hall and 
peered through the latticed glass, between the leaves. 
Oh, wasn't she making a mess of everything? When 
she saw the white head of Mrs. Peele being carried 
along the driveway, Alice flew out of the front door 
and down the crazy steps to catch up with her. 
     "I'll walk you to the end of the drive. Okay?" 



                             60
 



     "Why not, Miz Page?" Mrs. Peele trotted now, in 
black, decent shoes. She carried a paper shopping 
bag in which were folded her working clothes. 
     Alice said, "Why don't you call me Alice? You 
know what I told Mrs. Redfern?" 
     "No, what did you tell the Duchess?" The old 
woman was at ease. 
     "I said you were an old friend of my mother's."' 
Alice had realized that Mrs. Peele had better know 
this. 
     Mrs. Peele didn't utter the word "Why?" but Alice 
answered the question anyway, as best she could. 
"Oh, I don't know..." she said hitting out at a shrub 
discontentedly. "She's so... My people are just as 
good ­ Maybe you did know my mother. Her name is 
Molly Hansen. Used to be Molly Mercer." 
     "Could be I met her some place," said Mrs. Peele 
without enthusiasm. 
     "She's tall, like you," said Alice. "Her hair is gray 
now. It used to be a reddish brown." 
     "You homesick for your mama, dear?" 
     "Maybe." 
     "Well, your hubby, he'll be back soon, eh?" Mrs. 
Peele's white brows had peaked up. 
     "Oh, yes..." 
     "Has he got money?" asked Mrs. Peele. Her lively 
eyes were curious about this match. 


                             61
 



     "No, he hasn't. Except... you know... there is the 
chance of it in this business he's on..." Alice spoke 
low and then smiled up at her. "So you won't tell 
anyone, anywhere, will you?" (Let her think I have a 
profit motive.) 
     "Not me," said Mrs. Peele shortly. They were near-
ing the end of the grounds. "Say, Alice, dear, I 
wonder if I could ask you something." 
     "Of course." 
     "See, I got a payment due and I'm short a little bit. 
Could you maybe loan me a few dollars?" 
     So Alice knew she had made a mistake. Mrs. Peele 
was nobody's fool. If Alice had lied to Mrs. Redfern 
about her, Alice had had a better reason than she had 
been able to give. Also, Alice had pressed too hard 
with the warning not to tell. Mrs. Peele had already 
sensed her power. Mrs. Peele was now testing it out a 
little more. Mrs. Peele had a profit motive. 
     "I haven't any money with me right now," Alice 
said rather indifferently. 
     "Oh well, tomorrow would be time enough. All I 
mean is, say, twenty dollars?" 
     "I suppose I could help you," said Alice slowly. 
She looked at the woman directly and steadily for half 
a moment. "Of course..." she let her voice go dreamy, 
as if she were thinking out loud... "if you mentioned 
this trip to anybody, anywhere, so that Tony missed 
out on the deal... why then we couldn't afford..." 
She pretended to come to a decision. "I could let you 

                               62
 



have it tomorrow," she said in a different voice. "Do 
you live alone, Mrs. Peele?" 
     "No, but I mind my business," said Mrs. Peele, 
looking away. "Sure be nice of you." Her voice was 
absent-minded. Mrs. Peele was thinking things over. 
     "Well, so long, then." Alice stopped walking. She 
was nervous enough to scream. She wanted the 
woman gone and herself alone. 
     Mrs. Peele stopped also. "You and me will get 
along," she said boldly.  "I ain't been back East for 
twelve years. How old was you then, dear?" 
     "I was seven or eight," Alice said. 
     "I believe you was," said Mrs. Peele. "Molly 
Mercer's little kid, huh?" She actually grinned. When 
the mouth widened so, it was not pleasant. "Well, 
hasta la vista, like they say down Mexico way." 
     Alice turned on her heel. Mrs. Peele marched on 
into the road that skirted the meadow. 
     Alice thought, How can I do this? It's impossible! 
I've got to do it! 









                             63
 



                  CHAPTER 4 

     She had reached the top of the steps when a yel-
low car drove in. Dr. Walter Devon got out of it. 
"Hello, there," he called upward. 
     "Oh hello, Doctor..." 
     "How are you, Mrs. Page?" He came swiftly up. "I 
thought I'd take another look at that ankle." 
     "Oh, how nice of you," said Alice. "Come on in." 
She was able to turn her back on him and take the 
doorknob. But the door had locked itself behind her. 
She pushed the bell button. They must stand here 
side by side and wait for Ellen. 
     Don't wonder about him at all, she told herself. 
Keep, it out of your mind. Banish it. 
     The problem now was not Mrs. Peele, but herself. 
How to keep herself from telling. 
     "I'm sorry to hear that Tony was called back East," 
she heard him saying sympathetically. 
     "Yes, it's a nuisance." She turned around because 
she could not stand staring into the wooden face of 
the door. She looked out over the grounds. "This is 
all so strange to me," she said, "this foliage..." 

                               64
 



     He wasn't a man to talk about the foliage. "You 
know, I am very glad," the doctor said softly, "that 
Tony's gotten out of that dangerous business." 
     She knew her eyes, her whole face, showed 
surprise and shock. She could do nothing about it. 
     The doctor exuded, an air of proud omnipotence. 
"You didn't know I knew? Oh, I know many things. 
And I think it was high time he got married and 
dropped his cloak and dagger. A childish business! 
Don't you agree?" 
     "Oh, heavens!" said Alice. "I surely do agree!" She 
made it a gushing agreement, riding on the force of 
her surprise. After this, her speech had nowhere to 
go. 
     Ellen saved her by opening the door. 
     Alice went first up the circular stairs which kept her 
back to him. 
     She rapped at Mrs. Redfern's door. Her hand was 
all right.   
     "Yes?" the ladylike voice responded within. 
     "It's Alice, Mrs. Redfern. Dr. Devon is here." 
     "Thank you, Alice. Just one moment, if you 
please."   
     They would have to stand here side by side, 
waiting. Alice managed to send a little rueful smile up 
at the doctor. His eyes shocked her, they were so 
alive and aware. She could feel his interest, his 
inquiry, the power of it. She knew, now, that if this 

                             65
 



were the man, the danger was very great. And she felt 
afraid. 
     "What are you afraid of, young Alice?" she heard 
him saying gently. Ah no, this was never a man that 
she could fool! 
     Nevertheless she had to fool him. 
     So Alice said, in soft breathlessness, as if his 
sympathetic perception had compelled a confession, 
"I don't know, Dr. Devon. She's such a lady. I'll 
never be. And here I am... left alone in this house... 
." She closed her eyes, tried to squeeze tears. 
     "She can't bite you, you know," the doctor said. 
     Alice must open her eyes. She saw Bee standing at 
the railing of the upper hall with jealous rage frozen 
on her face. As Alice reacted, the doctor glanced 
behind. 
     "Come in, please," said Mrs. Redfern's voice. 
     Alice opened the door and went in blindly. Mrs. 
Redfern said, "Leave the door open, Alice, and sit 
down, my dear, please." 
     Propriety! 
     Alice sat down on a straight chair near the door. 
     Dr. Devon approached the bed with a wary bedside 
manner. 
     But fear now tumbled free in Alice's head. So Dr. 
Devon knew Tony's old work, all about it! So Dr. 
Devon knew for sure that Tony was not on the 
criminal side of the fence. Therefore, if Dr. Devon 

                            66
 



were the traitor, he would not like the secret presence 
of Tony Page in Mexico City. Would he suspect its 
purpose? Perhaps not. But if he were to find out 
where Tony had secretly gone, surely he would pass 
the word to watch out. He would give Tony's 
description. And then, when Tony casually 
approached the sensitive subject in Mexico, and they, 
there, knew he was Secret Service ­ Tony would walk 
into a trap! Now Alice understood! Oh, Tony hadn't 
told her this!  She'd been left to find it out in shock 
and ride the shock as best she could. 
     The only safe thing to do was assume that Devon 
was the man. 
     Alice felt herself grow cold and still. Very well. She 
would never tell Devon or any member of the family 
where Tony was, either openly or inadvertently. She 
had promised. She was resolved and she had the 
strength of that resolution. Very well. She was not 
quite twenty years old. But she had the strength of 
youth, the strength of her own intelligence, the 
strength of love, which is very great. And even in fear 
there is strength, if one can tap it. All these strengths 
would help her. 
     So to act, to lie, to seem... what? She would seem 
to be Alice Hansen Page from Indiana, a country girl, 
no lady, left here with strangers... and ­ here came 
the false erected on the true  ­ frightened of them. 
Afraid she wouldn't measure up. Gauche. Timid. 
Frightened of them. That was what she would seem. 
     Hortense came dithering in. 

                             67
 



     Alice got up and (gauchely) slipped away. 
     Dr. Devon said to Mrs. Redfern amiably, "Too bad 
young Tony was called back. But at least you will 
have the chance to know his little bride a little better." 
     Mrs. Redfern sighed. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes." 
     "Be kind," the doctor urged. "She is a little in awe 
of you ladies, I think." 
     Mrs. Redfern's eyes were chilly. "Thank you," she 
said. 
     Hortense said, "It's too bad. She is pretty and so 
young. But these girls fade early." Hortense drew up 
her own thin elegance. 
     The doctor looked inquiry. 
     "Our old cleaning woman," said Hortense with a 
fastidious moue, "is a friend of Alice's mother." 
     "What a coincidence," said Dr. Devon tolerantly. 
     Bee Stafford pounced upon the doctor in the lower 
hall. "Couldn't I see you tomorrow?" 
     "Not tomorrow, Beatrice, I am engaged all day." 
     "Sometimes I think­" said Bee wildly ­ "I'll scream! 
     "Try to relax," he said kindly. "You will not scream, 
Beatrice." He concealed his wish to get away. But 
moved away. 
     Bee made a mute, a helpless gesture. Her dark eyes 
followed him as he departed. 
      


                             68
 



     Dr. Devon entered his car, thinking to himself for 
the hundredth time how easy it would be to addict 
Bee Stafford to narcotics. He could drop a word and 
she could be approached. 
     He really had only toyed with the idea. On the 
whole, he thought not. 
     He wouldn't have bothered with Bee at all had it 
not been for Gregory, who was useful to him. The 
epitome of respectable solidity. An excellent 
reference. Unhappy, of  course. (Perhaps all 
respectable people were unhappy.) Hortense was the 
epitome of snobbery. And Bee, naturally, was a mess. 
He thought of the pseudo happiness of drugs for her 
and was tempted. Oh yes, she was the type. Drugs 
interested him. He had a cold  and curious brain. 
Mortals were fools. Which was an infallible source, of 
money, he had found. 
     Poor Bee. He had taught her to know her 
enslavement to her grandmother. Wasn't helping her 
a great deal. Jealous of the little Alice. What a 
nuisance Bee was! He used his charm, of course. One 
does, if one has it. 
     He drove away. 
     Alice did not see him go. 
     She was beginning to catch on to the rhythm of 
this strange house. It was a shrine. Hortense 
considered endlessly the old lady's preferences. The 
servants served them. Gregory deferred to them. Even 
Bee's rebellious contempt deferred to them, if only in 

                            69
 



reverse. When the old lady was not about, there was 
no life in the house. 
     She was not at the dinner table. Bee was sullen and 
Hortense was silent. Only Uncle Gregory rambled on. 
     Alice, wearing a pink dress and the 
silver-and-sapphire earrings again, wondered how 
she could live the evening through. She pounced 
upon a chance to ask, "Is Dr. Devon coming to play 
chess this evening?" 
     "No, not on Tuesdays. As a matter of fact..." 
     Alice cut in, as was the only way. "If you would 
like a game, Uncle Gregory, I play a little." 
     "Well, do you, indeed?" Uncle Greg discoursed 
upon the royal game until coffee. 
      
     At ten o'clock Uncle Greg shoved back his chair. 
His brown eyes stretched very wide. "Do you know 
you have beaten me rather badly?" 
     "Guess I have," twinkled Alice. Oh, chess was 
good! You couldn't think of anything else, much. Yet 
she had found out things about Gregory. He was a 
man with mental ruts. Nobody you could quickly 
convert to the astonishing idea that a crony of his 
was possibly a scoundrel. 
     "Remarkable," said Uncle Greg. "You must have a 
game with Walter Devon." 
     "Oh, no," said Alice, "really." She looked up and 
Bee's gaze was like a sword. "I'd be embarrassed," 

                            70
 



Alice said. "Please... With you it's different, Uncle 
Gregory. It's family. I couldn't play with Dr. Devon. 
Please? Promise me?" 
        Uncle Greg was looking at her uneasily. "Very 
well," he said, "but you are remarkably brainy, my 
dear, aren't you?" He didn't seem to be pleased about 
it. 
        "Oh, this was an accident," said Alice hastily. 
"And I'm going to quit while I'm ahead." Her slang, 
her laughter, sounded a little cheap. But oh, she was 
afraid she had made another mistake. To seem! To 
seem young, timid, gauche, frightened. That was the 
role. Such a one did not display the ability to play a 
bold, sound game of chess! 
        Uncle Greg soon excused himself. He had nothing 
to say to his wife or child, no life in this house. His 
real life must be in the community and his status 
there. He disappeared upstairs. 
        As soon as he was gone, Hortense began. Alice 
now discovered something about Hortense. She was 
a gossip. She sucked life from other people's real or 
imaginary sins and adventures. She had none of her 
own, except this sin. Hortense was a scandalmonger. 
She clucked over a neighbor's wayward child. She 
worried at the story. It animated her. Alice lay low and 
listened and was afraid. Hortense was one who would 
tell all she heard, and more! 
        All the while Bee took a butterfly interest ­ now 
pouncing, now drifting away. Once she broke in to 

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invite Alice to a luncheon at the club tomorrow. Alice 
accepted shyly, but Alice knew she would not go. 
She could have a headache. She could not leave the 
house with Mrs. Peele in it. 
     Alice was trying, a little late, to keep herself a back-
ground figure. Young, timid, and a little overwhelmed. 
The day crept to its end. Alice was invited to say 
good night to old Mrs. Redfern. 
     "Good night," said Alice at Mrs. Redfern's door. 
The old lady lay, leaf-light, upon her bed. Dainty. 
Self-contained. Uncomplaining. "Sleep well," said 
Alice, with uncontrollable good will. 
     "Thank you, my dear Alice. Good night." A little 
surprise curled in Mrs. Redfern's gray eyes. 
     Alice went to her own room. Soberly, she realized 
that it was not easy to pretend to be what she was 
not. Her intelligence had shone out in that chess 
game, without her meaning to betray it. Just now, her 
willingness to respond, equal to equal ­ her genuine 
lack of awe ­ had betrayed itself, too. 
     Alice was not a timid, unforceful, negligible, 
country-bred, awestruck little girl with no personality 
of her own. Tony wouldn't have loved such a one. 
     Oh, Tony! she thought; I must be more careful. I 
must not be myself at all! 
     Tuesday was over. 
      



                               72
 



     Tuesday; Mexico. Tony registered in the middle of 
the night by a name he had used in this same hotel 
before. He spent the balance of the night moving 
from restaurant to bar to restaurant to bar. 
     At the fourth place a man called him by the old 
name. 
     Now, one did not walk up to Big Frank and ask 
prying questions. One did not, in fact, walk up to Big 
Frank at all. 
     So Tony let it be understood that he would not be 
averse to a word with Big Frank, for auld lang syne. 
     This was understood. It was a beginning. 
      
     On Wednesday, Alice was up early, spying out the 
routine of Mrs. Peele. The woman seemed to be 
occupied in the back regions before breakfast. 
Afterwards, she began, in the big room when Gregory 
had gone and the ladies still lay abed. 
     Alice gave her good morning and took care to 
seem to have forgotten all about any urgency or any 
twenty dollars. Mrs. Peele, in a blue-striped dress that 
had been starched to the point of ostentation, buzzed 
about her work with the energy of the driven. She 
hadn't quite the brass to remind Alice of their bargain 
so early in the day. 
     Mrs. Redfern's ankle permitted her downstairs by 
midmorning. Alice took note. When the ladies came 
down, Mrs. Peele went up. She did their rooms while 
they were out of them. Good! 

                           73
 



     At a quarter of twelve, Alice produced her 
headache and Bee went off alone. Alice (the ladies 
cooing) retreated to her bedroom to "lie down." Mrs. 
Peele was still somewhere upstairs. 
     Alice heard her go down at about 12:30. Did she 
eat lunch in the kitchen? Talking? Alice scarcely 
knew what to do. 
     Then her door slammed open and here came Mrs. 
Peele bearing a tray. 
     "I made them let me bring it, dear," said she. "How 
you feeling? Got the headache, dear. Too bad." Mrs. 
Peele feigning sentimental concern was rather 
frightening. 
     "It's some better," said Alice feebly. 
     "That's good. You don't mind if I dust?" 
     "Of course not." 
     Alice was happy to have her. Indeed, Alice would 
keep her as long as she could. So Alice asked 
questions. Mrs. Peele, darting around the room, 
dusting with a grim thoroughness, told Alice that her 
husband was dead. She lived with her son. He had 
been married but his wife had turned out to be "a lazy 
good-for-nothing." So they'd split up and now he 
lived with his ma. 
     Mrs. Peele showed Alice a snapshot of a young 
man with a low brow, eyes glowering from under a 
cap of clipped dark hair that looked like fur. His name 
was Cary, she said. A hard worker. He was a truck 
driver and her only child. 

                               74
 



     Mrs. Peele and her son spent a lot of evenings 
together, watching TV, mostly. He  didn't have so 
many friends. His ex-wife told a lot of lies about him. 
(In her heart, Alice pitied any daughter-in-law to Mrs. 
Peele.) The implication became clear. Mrs. Peele and 
her son were very close indeed. 
     "I didn't say one word to Cary, even," said Mrs. 
Peele, meaningfully. 
     Alice could see the sense of injury crystallizing. (I 
didn't tell, but you haven't produced the money!) 
Mrs. Peele was all ready to be the wronged party. It 
was her way of life, Alice divined, to be the wronged 
party and a spitefully efficient servant to those she 
despised. 
     Alice said, "I'm glad you didn't. By the way, I have 
that money." 
     Alice got off the bed, fetched her purse and took 
out the bill. 
     "Thanks a lot," said Mrs. Peele mechanically. 
     "I promised you," said Alice, "so there it is. And 
you're welcome." She was trying to seem insouciant. 
Mrs. Peele got it. 
     "You hear from your hubby?" she asked curiously 
in a moment. 
     "Not yet. But I will." Alice climbed back upon the 
bed. "What programs do you like, especially?" 
     But Mrs. Peele had lost her chatty mood. "I 
dunno," she said discontentedly. "There's a lot of 

                             75
 



junk on TV." She turned her back and began to 
wallop the surface of the dressing table. 
     Alice lay against the headboard. The truth was, 
she remembered sadly, that she would not hear from 
her husband at all. And this was her birthday! 
Normally, Tony would never  ­ even in the fake 
emergency circumstances  ­ forget her twentieth 
birthday. The family, if they knew, would think this 
odd. Bee, who did know, would think it very odd. 
Could she do anything about it? 
     And then she thought, Oh God, I could have 
stopped him! Too late, she saw how she could have 
done it. Too late, she remembered Herb Innes in 
Minnesota. She could have called  him  at Mr. 
Delgado's in Minnesota, yesterday. There would 
have been time. No plane is faster than the telephone. 
Herb Innes knew how to reach the Old Man. And 
surely the Old Man would have known how to reach 
Tony, in Dallas, and stop him in time. 
     Too late now! 
     Alice felt stricken. She could have got herself out 
of this whole mess, and kept Tony safe. No help to 
think of it now. She caught herself close to tears. She 
looked up. The cleaning woman was watching her by 
way of the dressing-table mirror. 
     "Say, Alice," said Mrs. Peele in a minute, "you 
know I'm going to my club, Saturday night?" 
     "How nice!" 


                            76
 



     "I'd sure like to borrow these earrings off a' you, if 
you wouldn't mind." 
     "What... earrings?" 
     "These here." 
     Mrs. Peele held up in her gaunt hand Tony's 
mother's silver-and-sapphire earrings. 
     "I guess these is  real stones," Mrs. Peele said and 
her tongue examined her upper lip. Her eyes were sly. 
     Alice loved the dainty things. Cobwebs, wrought 
of silver, set each with two sapphires. They were her 
treasures. It crossed her mind now to lie, to protect 
the sapphires, the beloved heirlooms, and say that 
they were only glass. 
     But what was a sapphire... what was an heirloom, 
what was any physical thing, to Tony's life? 
     "Yes," said Alice, "they are real sapphires." 
     "You can kinda tell," said Mrs. Peele with 
satisfaction, as if she congratulated Alice for telling 
the truth. 
     Alice said slowly, "And a week from Saturday, I 
will give them to you." 
     Mrs. Peele's thumb came up and pressed the 
jewels. 
     "If you haven't... told what I ask you not to tell," 
Alice said. It was bald and direct, but necessary. 
     "How would you know," said Mrs. Peele, just as 
baldly, "if I did or didn't tell?" 


                             77
 



     "I would know," said Alice steadily, "by the 
results." 
     The thumb moved on the sapphires. "You sure 
don't want nobody to know where he's at, do you, 
dear?" said Mrs. Peele saucily. 
     Alice said nothing. 
     The woman switched her bony hips to and fro. 
"Only thing is, see, this  ­ uh  ­ club meets  this 
Saturday night." The voice faked hesitancy. The 
sharp eyes keep watching. "So a week from Saturday 
don't do me any good." 
     She's got me and she knows it, thought Alice. 
     "I'll loan them to you for the party," she said 
quietly. 
     "Thanks a lot," said Mrs. Peele in a voice a little 
higher than was normal. She knew there had just been 
a clash of wills. She knew she had won. "Say, how do 
they go on?" She held one to an ear. 
     "I imagine you can figure it out," said Alice 
without spirit. Her heart was leaden. The old woman 
was looking into the mirror, now, trying to put the 
dainty things on her lobes. Alice stared at the 
window. At the mountainside. 
     "You ain't mad, Alice, dear?" 
     Alice did not stir. 
     "Listen, I wouldn't do anything to upset your 
hubby's business." Mrs. Peele was definitely uneasy. 
Why? 

                             78
 



     Alice turned her head and smiled faintly. "I was 
just thinking," she said slowly. "Maybe I'm foolish. 
We don't have to get rich this year. We are young." 
     There was power in resignation. Mrs. Peele felt her 
own power slipping. 
     "Listen," she said, "I'll just borrow them for the 
party, see? I wouldn't take a present like that from 
you, Alice. I mean, these is worth something." 
     "Yes," said Alice. "Mind you don't lose them." 
     "Oh, I wouldn't! Now, dear, you ain't eating your 
broth." 
     "I've had enough." 
     "Headache?" 
     "No," said Alice listlessly. 
     "You don't want to worry," said Mrs. Peele. "I 
mean, nobody's going to say nothing... far as that 
goes." 
     Alice plucked at the bedspread. 
     "You just don't feel well, that's what it is. You sure 
looked awful sick a couple of minutes ago." 
     Alice closed her eyes. 
     Mrs. Peele removed the tray. Alice felt it go. 
     Then the door slammed. 
     Alice blinked and sat up. No earrings on the 
dressing table. She got off the bed to look in her box. 
The earrings were gone. Alice began to gnaw the 
knuckles of her thumb, to bite it. Needed the pain. 

                                79
 



     What would the old woman do now? 





























                         80
 



                 CHAPTER 5 

     She stood it for about twenty minutes; then she 
began hastily to dress. She put on her pink again, to 
be ready for dinner. She put a pair of pearl buttons in 
her ears. 
     She went downstairs, stepping quietly, and the 
strange house, the huge luxurious lonely house, was 
still. 
     Alice went into the dining room. All was neat and 
silent here. She pushed the swinging door to the 
pantry. Nobody. This was the hour of the day when 
nothing went on in the kitchen. Lunch over. Dinner 
not yet in preparation. She pushed at the second 
swinging door to the kitchen proper. Peered through. 
     No Ellen. No cook. But there was Mrs. Peele. She 
was standing with her long muscular legs apart, 
wielding a wet mop upon the kitchen linoleum. She 
was alone, working vigorously. In her ears were the 
lovely old earrings that Tony's grandfather had given 
Tony's mother, years ago. 
     Alice let the door shut softly and she leaned upon 
the cupboards. In her pulse, time beat by. 


                           81
 



     But not enough time had beaten by (not enough 
for Tony!) when Alice heard movement in the house. 
She moved swiftly through doorways into the big 
front parlor. 
     "Oh, Alice, there you are," said Hortense. "Are 
you feeling better?" 
     "Yes, I'm fine now." 
     "Too bad you missed the luncheon. Excuse me, I 
must speak to cook, if she is down..." 
     Hortense clattered off toward the kitchen. 
     Something of her feigned resignation had crept 
into Alice's mind, truly. Fate was fate. You rode on 
risks and chances. Perhaps Dr. Devon was not the 
man. Anyhow, she  could not possibly keep Aunt 
Hortense out of the kitchen. 
     With scarcely any surprise, she heard female 
voices going high. She heard Hortense calling, 
"Alice? Will you come here, please?" 
     She moved numbly. 
     The kitchen, although well supplied with modem 
appliances, was in size an old-fashioned kitchen. Mrs. 
Peele had only now finished her mopping. She stood 
at bay. Hortense faced her and Hortense was aflame. 
     "Alice!" 
     "Yes, ma'am?" 
     "Those are Eileen's earrings!" 
     "I know they..." 


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     "Miz Alice said I could wear them," mumbled Mrs. 
Peele. "Didn't you, Miz Alice?" 
     "Miss Alice shouldn't have said any such thing!" 
Hortense quivered with rage. "They belong to the 
family! They are priceless heirlooms. Alice, you hear? 
Mrs. Peele says you loaned them to her." 
     "Yes, I..." 
     "Alice, you cannot! Don't you know that Mr. 
Redfern brought them from Paris?" Hortense was 
beside herself. 
     Mrs. Peele's face contorted. "I ain't good enough 
for something from Paris, is that it?" Her hostility was 
out! 
     "Alice!" 
     Alice stood with heart pounding, throat dry. 
     "I guess you don't believe  me," said Mrs. Peele 
angrily. "I guess there's some things you don't know. 
I happen to done Miz Alice a kind of favor. You want 
to know what it was, Miz Stafford?" Her face showed 
naked malice, now. 
     Iron rammed into Alice's soul. "Just a minute, Aunt 
Hortense..." 
     "Take them away from her!" blazed Hortense. 
     "But just a minute... They belong to me, you 
know," said Alice. 
     "They are family..." 
     "But Tony gave them to me. They are my property. 
Don't you see?" Alice spoke as gently and 

                              83
 



reasonably as she could manage. Mrs. Peele's face 
began to show great satis faction. The lips tightened. 
     "You are out of your mind," said Hortense rudely. 
"They cannot be replaced. She'll lose them." 
     "Oh, I don't think so," said Alice soothingly. 
"Please, Aunt Hortense, there is nothing to be so 
upset about." 
     Now Hortense was speechless! 
     "And I guess you don't understand," said Mrs. 
Peele, nasally. "I'se going to say, see, I used to know 
her mama, back in Indiana. Molly Mercer, that was. I 
knew Miz Alice when she's a little bitty kid." The 
black eyes swiveled to Alice, looking for approval 
now. "And that's why she gave these here earrings," 
said Mrs. Peele, turning the screws. "Ain't that right, 
Miz Alice?" 
     "Gave them!" Hortense was close to shrieking. 
     Cook put a startled face in at the door from the 
back hall. 
     Alice moved and put her hand on Hortense's 
forearm. "Won't you please," said Alice softly, "let 
me talk to you just a minute and not in front of 
people?" 
     The mummy face was stiff with outrage. 
     "Please," said Alice, turning the thin body, guiding 
it toward the pantry. Hortense stumbled along. Alice 
looked back and sent Mrs. Peele a cold and 


                            84
 



disapproving glance, and saw the hands go 
nervously to the ears. 
     But Alice did not let go of Hortense. The thin arm, 
all bone, was quivering in her grasp. They went 
through the pantry into the dining room. Here Alice 
said, "Please, Aunt Hortense, I am begging you not 
to make a fuss." 
     "Fuss!" the woman hissed. 
     Alice said, "Will you please not mention this to 
anyone?" 
     "Not mention...!" The body jerked. "I don't care to 
have you touching me, Alice." 
     Alice tightened her fingers. "Aunt Hortense," she 
said as honestly, as appealingly as she could, "I have 
a reason. Will you believe me? Will you do this for 
me? Will you wait until Tony comes? They are 
Tony's heirlooms. Tony's gift to me. And Tony's 
business. So please wait. Let him do what he wants to 
do about it. Isn't it his business, really? Won't you 
agree to that?" 
     "I think you are..." 
     "Think whatever you... think. Just please promise 
me?" 
     "You are hurting me," said Hortense icily. 
     "No, I am not hurting you. I only want you to 
promise me." 
     "Why should I promise you?" 


                              85
 



     "Because I ask you to," said Alice with quiet 
despair. 
     "Let me go!" 
     "If you promise to let Tony deal with this. Not to 
mention it." 
     "I promise," said Hortense angrily. 
     So Alice opened her fingers and let her go. "I'm 
awfully sorry," she said, "that you are so upset. 
There is no need." 
     Hortense turned and simply walked away. 
     Alice stood there trembling. She heard the heels 
cross the tile margin of the hall, begin to stumble up 
the stairs. She knew despair. But she could not afford 
despair. 
     She whirled and went back into the kitchen. The 
old cleaning woman was standing there with an 
unholy excitement in her eyes. Cook was agog at the 
far side of the room. Alice went over to Mrs. Peele. 
     "That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't worn 
them," said Alice sharply, "to mop the kitchen floor." 
     "Now, Miz Alice, I didn't..." The nasal whine died 
away. 
     "I don't know," said Alice sternly, "whether I can 
give them to you, now." 
     "You said they's yours, didn't you? You can do 
what you want..." 
     Alice said coldly, "If not, I will make it up to you 
somehow. Do you understand that?" 

                            86
 



     "Who's going to stop you...?" 
     Then her face changed and Alice knew who had 
come into the kitchen. 
     She turned and there was Tony's grandmother. 
Walking as well as if she'd never hurt her ankle. 
Small, erect, wearing the gray with the white lace, with 
the velvet at her throat. Her face unsmiling but 
serene, her head high, Mrs. Redfern came toward 
them. 
     "Mrs. Peele," she said in the gracious tones that 
went to an inferior, "I have been told that you were 
wearing a pair of earrings that belonged to my 
daughter, Eileen." 
     "Miz Alice said..." Mrs. Peele's eyes went to and 
fro. Her whole mien had  fallen to servility. The 
essential anger in Mrs. Peele grew out of this servility 
that she despised in herself. But she could not help it. 
Mrs. Redfern was too much for her. 
     "Give them to me, if you please." The small 
immaculate hand was held forth. 
     "But she said I could have them!" 
     "Will you give them to me, if you please?" The 
voice was exactly the same. No anger. No loss of 
poise. 
     Mrs. Peele seemed to crumble. She put her fingers 
into the pocket of her work dress. The blue-and-silver 
earrings came out, sticking to them. 
     "Thank you," said Mrs. Redfern. 

                            87
 



     Mrs. Peele then dropped them meekly into the 
lady's hand. 
     "And that will be all," said Mrs. Redfern, inclining 
the frost of her high-done hair very slightly. "It was in 
very bad taste, Mrs. Peele, for you to accept such 
jewelry from anyone in this house. And especially 
from a very young person. I do not think you need 
trouble to come back tomorrow. If you will let me 
know how much is owing you in wages, I will be glad 
to see that you receive it. Good-bye." 
     Mrs. Redfern turned, without any haste. "Alice," 
she said in the same gracious tones, "will you come 
into the drawing room, please? I would like to speak 
to you." 
     Mrs. Redfern left the kitchen. 
     Mrs. Peele now went into rage. "See that!" she 
snarled. "You see that! Now I'm out of a job! And 
what did  I  do?  You give me them earrings. The 
Duchess! Wait till she finds out her precious grand­" 
     "Mrs. Peele," said Alice, "come out here with me a 
minute." 
     Cook had been a silent witness to all of this, 
standing beside the sink, her neck twisted, her eyes 
round. 
     Alice pulled the old woman out into the back entry. 
     "You won't be out anything," she said fiercely. 
"Write down where you live, where I can find you. I 
will bring you some money." 


                             88
 



     "How much?" said Mrs. Peele truculently. Her 
anger was deep. It would cost money. 
     "A hundred dollars," Alice said. 
     Mrs. Peele's lips drew back from her teeth. 
     "Write it down! Hurry, I have to go..." said Alice. 
     "And so do you." 
     "You can let the Duchess wait," said Mrs. Peele 
viciously. "You can listen to me a minute..." 
     "I am listening," said Alice coldly, because she felt 
so cold. 
     "My son, Cary, he wants to try it in Arizona," said 
Mrs. Peele rapidly. "I'd just as leave go along. But... 
that's going to take more than a hundred dollars." 
     "How much will it take?" No time for anything but 
blunt bargaining. 
     "Three hundred dollars," said Mrs. Peele, and the 
eyes were cold. 
     So Alice knew that Mrs. Peele had seen, and 
counted, the traveler's checks that Tony had left her. 
Mrs. Peele knew that they  totaled three hundred 
dollars. 
     "That is all I have," said Alice. 
     "So? What about that?" 
     "When would you go to Arizona?" 
     "Soon as I had it." 
     "Tomorrow?" 
     Mrs. Peele's bony shoulders shrugged. 

                              89
 



     "I'll have to get to a bank," said Alice. 
     "Guess that's right." 
     "Will you pack," pressed Alice, "tonight? And be 
ready? Because otherwise the family might... you 
wouldn't keep three hundred dollars..." 
     Mrs. Peele got the point. "I guess," she said, "I 
could go tomorrow. We could kinda take off and 
nobody would know where, huh?" Was she willing to 
conspire again? 
     "Yes," said Alice, urgently. 
     Mrs. Peele looked around her. Was she choosing 
between revenge and money? 
     "Write it down," said Alice. "Put it under a stone 
on the back porch. If you don't write it down, I can't 
bring you the money." Then Alice made a mighty 
effort. With all her strength, she made herself relax 
and smile. "Unless you'd rather tell," she said lightly. 
     She turned. 
     "Alice, dear?" Mrs. Peele's voice was anxious to 
please. "I'll be waiting on you, then? Tomorrow? 
Okay?" 
     The old woman, seeing the money slipping away, 
had chosen the money. 
      
     Alice went through the kitchen, giving cook's 
round eyes a nervous smile. 
     She went through the door to the hall, this time, 
and crossed its length and entered the drawing room. 

                               90
 



     Mrs. Redfern was there, sitting near the fireplace, 
her hands lying quietly. 
     Alice went to her. "Yes, Mrs. Redfern?" 
     "Sit down, Won't you, please?" 
     "Yes, ma'am." 
     Mrs. Redfern inclined her head. "I am afraid," she 
began in her silken voice, "that there are some things 
you may not understand, my dear. In a family like 
ours, there are memories." 
     Alice could feel her face flushing. She choked 
down the angry retort. My family can remember 
things, too. 
     "My husband went abroad one year," went on 
Mrs. Redfern gently, "and in Paris, he bought those 
earrings for our only daughter. They were his gift of 
love, a long time ago. She wore them with love, and 
they went to her son with the memory of love, from 
her and from his grandfather. These things have 
meaning." The voice was teaching, benignly. 
"Although the earrings have some intrinsic value, the 
greater value, by far, lies in their history." 
     Alice could barely tolerate what was being said to 
her. As if she  were  a barbarian! She kept her face 
down. She tried to look humble. 
     "You must see," went on the old lady, "that in 
them is my husband's taste. And taste is an 
intangible value, too. Now, I don't doubt that you 
wished to be kind to a woman whom you knew as a 
child. But clinging to these earrings are all these 

                             91
 



intangibles which you could not give her. Even if she 
kept the earrings, she would not appreciate, she 
would not understand. You ought to have found her 
another little gift. Oh, I know that you did not quite 
realize what you were doing. And I am sorry that I 
had to step in so arbitrarily. But it was necessary. You 
would have broken Tony's heart, my poor child. And 
you will be grateful to me, I assure you." 
     Mrs. Redfern paused. But Alice could make no 
sound. She had never felt so humiliated in her life. 
And she could not defend herself. She certainly 
would not explain to these people! Hortense had 
promised and gone promptly to break the promise, as 
if it had been moonshine. Alice would ask nothing of 
Hortense, ever again. Nothing of any of them! 
     Mrs. Redfern said, "I concede that the woman was 
at fault, too. She ought to know better than to accept 
such a gift, even if you..." Mrs. Redfern left off the 
end of her sentence. "Now... all is well, and. I am sure 
that you understand better. So we will say no more 
about it." 
     Alice could not move. 
     "Alice?" The voice was gentle as to a naughty 
child. 
     "What's going on?" said Bee's voice. Bee was 
there. 
     "Oh, Alice gave Eileen's lovely earrings to the 
cleaning woman," said Hortense in her grating voice. 
     "She didn't!" Bee was convulsed. 

                               92
 



     "It's all right now. Aunt Geraldine will just keep the 
earrings until Tony comes." 
     "I should think so!" said Bee, and then flippantly, 
"How chummy can you get with the help?" 
     Mrs. Redfern said kindly, "Alice simply didn't 
understand." 
     Alice could do nothing at all but burst into childish 
tears and run upstairs. 
      
     Upstairs, however, and alone, she dropped the 
luxury of tears. What was to be  done? She would 
have to get the traveler's checks cashed, somehow. 
She would have to fetch Mrs. Peele's address from 
the back porch. She would have to find the place, take 
the woman the money. Tomorrow. And all of this 
without the family knowing what she was doing. 
     But if Mrs. Peele actually did go to Arizona, this 
was worth all the money, all the trouble, everything! 
     She stared at the mountain. After a while she 
began to make ready for dinner  ­ which was not 
going to be pleasant. There was a cloud forming in 
her mind, a warning, a foreboding. Even if Mrs. Peele 
were gone, there was another problem. 
     The problem stated itself when, having found the 
piece of paper under a stone on the back porch, and 
hidden it carefully upon her person, she slipped back 
into the hall. 



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     Hortense was waiting in the hall. The mummy face 
put on sweetness. "May I talk to you, Alice?" 
     "Yes, ma'am?" Alice was cool. 
     "I am very anxious to help you, my dear." 
     "Thank you, Mrs. Stafford," Alice said. 
     Hortense caught no irony. Her pale eyes roved 
upon Alice's face. "Just what is Mrs. Peele to you?" 
     "A friend." 
     "Of your mother, you say?" 
     "Yes, ma'am." 
     Hortense licked her lower lip with a small flash of 
her tongue. "Aunt Geraldine, of course, ought not to 
be upset. We can't allow that. But Greg and I feel that 
Tony left you in our care. Now, when you give a pair 
of valuable heirloom earrings to a..." 
     "I begged you not to fuss about the earrings," 
Alice murmured. 
     "And you said you had a reason!" pounced 
Hortense. "I distinctly remember you saying that you 
had a reason! I told Greg... the point is why? Why 
did you give her the earrings?" 
     "I wished to," said Alice stonily. 
     "You couldn't have wished to," cried Hortense. 
"Greg is right. You are not that stupid. Why won't 
you tell me?" 
     "What is it you want me to tell you, ma'am?" 


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     "The reason! The reason!" Aunt Hortense was in 
an agony of curiosity. "And what did Mrs. Peele 
mean when she said she had done you a favor? Is 
there anything in your background...?" 
     Alice said, "Mrs. Stafford, I don't want to quarrel 
about this. Please excuse me." She started to walk. 
Hortense followed. 
     "What is that old cleaning woman to you?" 
     Alice walked on without answering. She looked 
back from the arch to the drawing room. Hortense 
stood still, now, wringing her hands. Alice actually 
felt a little sorry for her. 
     But she saw the problem. 
     She began to understand what Tony meant when 
he used the word "cover." She began to see that "not 
telling" was too simple an idea. She could not let them 
wonder. Must satisfy a curiosity so violent. Must 
give them something else to believe. 
     Uncle Gregory was in the drawing room. He gave 
Alice a reproachful look and went on talking toward 
the old lady. Alice sat down, silent, subdued. Her 
mind, however, was busy searching for a lie to tell 
them, to cover up, to keep the secret safe for Tony's 
life. 






                                 95
 



                  CHAPTER 6 

     Dinner was no more ordeal than usual. 
     When  Mrs. Redfern had risen to proceed to the 
drawing room, Alice lingered to be last. 
     Gregory, the gentleman, was politely waiting. Alice 
said to him, "Uncle Gregory, Tony said you would 
help me cash my traveler's checks. He endorsed them, 
you see, and I guess that's not quite proper." 
     "It is not," said Greg. "They should be signed 
when cashed. Why don't you go into the bank, my 
dear? The nearest branch, right down in our shopping 
center. Ask them to phone me if they make any 
question." His robin outline swelled. 
     "Oh, thanks," said Alice. 
     "Not at all, my dear. By the way, Dr. Devon is 
coming in. Won't you try a game of chess?" 
     "Oh, I'd so much rather not!" Alice panicked. She 
must keep away from Dr. Devon. "Please, Uncle Greg, 
promise not to get me into that!" She'd had enough 
for one day. 



                            96
 



     "As you like," said Uncle Gregory. And then he 
said, "Alice, Aunt Geraldine tells me you have not 
apologized to her." 
     Alice's head snapped up. 
     "After all," said Uncle Greg, "what you did today 
was, at the least, very thoughtless. And a lady 
apologizes." 
     "I... I'm sorry," she stammered with a burning face. 
     She went into the drawing room where the ladies 
were seated. Had to be humiliated to the ground. She 
walked over to Tony's grandmother and bent a little 
almost as if she bowed.  "I would like to apologize," 
said Alice gravely, "for my mistake today." 
     "Yes, my dear." 
     "And to thank you," said Alice, steadily, "for what 
you did to correct it." 
     "You are forgiven, of course," said Mrs. Redfern 
graciously. "Come now, let us have a pleasant 
evening." 
     Alice sat down. She stared at the room, without 
focusing. She would endure. 
     But when Dr. Devon came, the first thing Alice 
heard was Uncle Gregory saying, "We have a chess 
player in the house, Walter! This will surprise you. 
What do you think? Young Alice, here, beat me all 
hollow!" 
     "Is that so?" said Dr. Devon. "Who taught you to 
play, Mrs. Page?" 

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     Alice was pinned in his attention. But he promised, 
she thought; Uncle Gregory promised me! 
     "Try her, Walter," urged Gregory. "I dare you." 
     "I'd be delighted," said Dr. Devon. 
     Bee said, with a roll of her eye, "Alice, I didn't hear 
your answer. Who taught you to play?" 
     A whole paragraph stuck in Alice's throat: None of 
you understand about me. My father and mother 
have played chess together ever since I can 
remember. My father's hobby is mathematics. My 
mother works in the drugstore but her hobby is doing 
things for the blind. She types Braille books. My 
sixteen-year-old brother, who's in public high school, 
could beat Uncle Gregory at chess even better than I 
did  ­ although he is probably going to be a first-
string football player at some college. You don't 
understand the complexity of real people. 
     She couldn't burst out with all this. Finally, she 
murmured, "My father..." 
     "Mayn't I have the pleasure?" smiled Dr. Devon. 
     She saw no way out of it without another fuss. 
     But when she was seated at the board facing the 
doctor, with Uncle Gregory standing over, silent and 
intent, she could not think straight. She was in such 
an inner turmoil ­ part fury, part fear ­ that her mind 
was fuddled. Her game was uncertain. 




                              98
 



     She looked up when Dr. Devon forebore to pounce 
upon an error. "I don't think you are in the mood for 
chess tonight," he said softly. 
     "I'm not," she confessed. 
     "Then let's not go on. It is a game, after all, and if it 
is not being fun..." 
     "I am sorry," Alice said, meeting those probing 
interested eyes. "It's just that I've been upset. I did 
something stupid." 
     "Now, that's all over," said Uncle Gregory. 
     "We all do things for which we call ourselves 
stupid," said Dr. Devon. "Usually there has only been 
some misunderstanding along the way." He smiled. 
"We'll have a game another time." 
     The doctor began to put the pieces back in place. 
Greg moved away. Alice sat still, studying the 
doctor's face. She could not help a glow of gratitude. 
She could not believe this was the evil man. 
     He looked up at her. "Whenever you are upset, 
young Alice," said he softly, "remember that I am in 
the business. We don't actually shrink heads, you 
know. We encourage hearts. Will you remember?" 
     She knew her eyes were melting. 
     "Heard from young Tony yet?" 
     "Not yet," said Alice, easily, as to a friend. 
     "Pretty funny, too." She heard a hard spiteful 
voice. She turned her head and there was Bee, eyes 


                              99
 



flashing. "When you consider this  is her birthday 
and, as far as I know, Tony forgot all about it." 
     "Beatrice," said the doctor gently, after a moment, 
"won't you please play for us?" 
     "Will you listen?" said Bee furiously. 
     Alice looked behind her. Gregory was at his cigar 
box. The ladies sat erect in their chairs. She couldn't 
doubt that they were all thinking how odd it was that 
Tony hadn't called her on her birthday. 
     Dr. Devon escorted Bee to the piano and returned 
to Alice. "Shall we be more comfortable?" So Alice 
rose. 
     "Tony went to see Simmons, did he?" the doctor 
said into her ear, very casually. 
     "To see whom?" She responded with genuine 
bewilderment. 
     "No matter. Come." 
     They settled in easier chairs. Mrs. Redfern said in 
her calm tones, "My dear, is this really your 
birthday?" 
     "I didn't want a fuss made. Please." 
     "Congratulations." 
     "Many happy returns," said Aunt Hortense stiffly. 
     "No game?" said Uncle Gregory. 
     The doctor said, a little sharply, "We must listen to 
the music." 
     So Bee played. 

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     The doctor seemed to listen. Actually, he turned in 
his mind his growing curiosity about young Alice. 
About the calling away of Tony Page. It was "pretty 
funny," this birthday business. For a bridegroom. 
Well, he'd discovered one thing. The little bride had 
never heard of Simmons, otherwise known as the Old 
Man. So if the bridegroom was gone on some secret 
mission, the little bride did not know. Perhaps this 
was what made her so unhappy, uneasy. Perhaps not. 
He thought complacently, She is going to tell me 
everything she knows, sooner or later. 
     Bee played a long piece with great style. When she 
had crashed down the final chords, the doctor sighed 
and prepared to be charming. "A great talent. Is it in 
the blood, I wonder?" 
     "Supposed to have been an Italian contessa in the 
Stafford line," said Bee in good humor. 
     "Redfern blood," said Hortense in her harsh tense 
way, "is entirely English. Stafford, too, is an English 
name. Very old." 
     "I see," the doctor murmured. 
     Something in this response, so bland as to seem 
mockery, tempted, Alice, who had sat seething 
beneath decorum. Now she looked up innocently. 
"What does `old' mean? I would think that everyone 
alive must have had just about the same number of 
ancestors." 
     "Ah, true," said the doctor, twinkling at her. 

                             101
 



     Alice twinkled back. He can't be the man, she 
thought again. He doesn't like this ridiculous 
stuffiness any better than I do. He is nice! 
     Bee had not missed the twinkling. "Hansen," she 
said. "What is that?" 
     Alice looked up into her jealous eyes. 
     "Norwegian?" asked the doctor amiably. 
     "Scandinavian stock is healthy," said Cousin Bee 
in such a way to imply that health was vulgar and 
unrefined. "How long ago did your people come 
over?" 
     Alice said steadily, "I don't know." Her heart was 
pounding. This Cousin Bee! 
     The doctor said musingly, "Some people are too 
busy to look back, I imagine. Mine were. I know very 
little about my name." 
     "But surely Devon is English," Hortense gushed. 
"And very old." 
     "And Peele is English, too," said Alice impulsively. 
"And very old." She sat smiling. 
     The room was still. 
     Dr. Devon was immediately aware that a hit had 
been given and taken. He did not understand. He 
said, "Was Peele your mother's name, young Alice?" 
     As Alice shook her head, the old lady spoke 
calmly. "I am sure, Beatrice, you did not mean to be 
rude." 


                             102
 



     Bee said nothing but Alice flushed. She had been 
goaded into impertinence and the reproach was 
indirectly for her, too. 
     Mercifully, Uncle Gregory spoke up. "Walter, 
aren't we having a game at all?" 
     So the men fell silent at the chess table. The ladies 
were silent in their chairs. 
     Alice sat still. Well, after all, she was not a girl who 
took snide remarks on her chin without retort. She 
was very angry with these people ­ all but Dr. Devon. 
Their old English names, their ridiculous pretensions, 
did not strike any awe  into her soul. She was not 
impressed by their wealth, by their blood, and 
certainly not by their behavior. This had been a bit 
thick, all right. A bit too thick. Must Alice Hansen sit 
here, still and cowed? To receive Bee's malice, 
Hortense's snobbery, the old lady's oblique re-
proaches? She felt restless and rebellious. 
     "Music doesn't disturb anyone?" she asked 
suddenly. 
     "Why, no..." said Mrs. Redfern with a faint 
surprise. 
     "Then may I?" Alice didn't wait for the white head 
to nod. She went to the piano. Alice knew how to roll 
out jolly little rhythms... twinkling tunes... popular 
classics. Her fingers were nimble and gay. No somber 
crashes for Alice. Her hands went along of 
themselves. Then Alice looked up. 


                             103
 



     All the ladies heads were still. Bee's face (like the 
face of Hortense) was haughty. Offended? Alice 
looked toward Dr. Devon, wishing for his 
understanding smile. But Dr. Devon was intent upon 
the chessboard. Without the eyes, his profile had no 
charm. It looked... different, she realized with a 
sinking heart. Sour. 
     What am I doing? thought Alice. Showing off? 
Antagonizing? Oh, Tony! 
     Her hands fell upon a discord. "I would like to be 
excused," she said weakly. 
     "Of course, my dear," said Mrs. Redfern and under 
the ladylike sweetness there was audible a faint 
eagerness to have her gone. 
     Alice ran into the hall and up the quickest way by 
the circular stairs. She hung upon the upstairs railing, 
felt it, hard and real, against her abdomen. Oh Tony! 
she cried silently, I can't. I am not able! I do 
everything wrong. 
     Then she could hear Bee speaking in the big room. 
"Did any of you realize that Tony picked her up?" 
     "Aah!" Hortense's gasp. 
     "She told me that. Then she tried to take it back. 
Then she said they met in church." Bee's voice was 
derisive. "Goodness knows where he found her." 
     Hortense said, "To give our Eileen's precious 
earrings to an old cleaning woman!" 
     Alice heard Dr. Devon say, "What was that?" 

                            104
 



     "That's what she did!" cried Bee. "Oh, Aunt 
Geraldine got them back and fired the woman. Alice 
says Mrs. Peele is a friend of her mother's. I wonder 
what her mother is like." 
     There was a beat of silence. Then Mrs. Redfern's 
gentle tones carried all the way across the room and 
up the stairs. "I'm afraid the poor child feels out of 
place here." 
     "What a strange thing to do," the doctor said. 
     "I think she's covering up something," said Cousin 
Bee. "And do you know what  I  think? That old 
woman from Indiana knows what it is. Something 
Alice would rather we didn't hear about. Something in 
her past, I suppose." Bee was vicious. Alice's heart 
jumped. 
     "Aaah." Hortense gave out her gasp. 
     Alice heard the doctor say with amusement, "Her 
`past' is not of great duration..." 
     "Oh, she's young," said Bee. "And jazzy, isn't 
she? Maybe she's been mixed up with jazz people. 
Who knows? Maybe she smokes marijuana." 
     "That is very cruel, Beatrice," said Mrs. Redfern in 
a moment, wearily. 
     "It's a joke, Aunt Geraldine," said Bee shrilly. 
     "I can assure you," said Dr. Devon's smooth 
voice, "that it cannot be so. I would know. I am rather 
an expert on narcotics." 


                              105
 



     Upstairs, Alice drew away from the railing, tingling 
with alarm. 
     "I should imagine," she heard him go on, "that 
what troubles her may have to do with young Tony. 
A young person in love... you know? It is strange 
she had no word today. He might have telephoned." 
     "Long distance," said Uncle Greg, grumpily. "Your 
move, Walter." 
     "Minnesota?" said the doctor chidingly. 
     "There is something..." Bee said. 
     "Beatrice," warned Mrs. Redfern. Then, gently, 
"You must excuse her, Doctor." 
     Below, Dr. Devon took his  warning. He chose to 
wipe the wild malice from Bee's face. "Alice seems a 
pleasant child," he said. "Too bad her music is such 
trash." He sent Bee his charming smile. 
     He was a bit tired of being charming to Bee. She 
was such a nuisance. And the old lady irritated him, 
too. Always banking down human passions, whence 
information could come. Save the surface and you 
save all, he thought contemptuously. Her motto. But 
her day was over. 
     Young Alice interested him more and more. Now, 
why had she given the cleaning woman the heirloom 
earrings? There would exist a reason. He told himself 
that he knew how to find out. 
      


                            106
 



     Upstairs, Alice went along the hall to her room, one 
hand on the wall. She was frightened. Bee guessed 
too well. The doctor kept thinking of Tony far too 
much. The speech about narcotics had rocked her. 
She had no right to like Dr. Devon or to trust him of 
her own judgment. She had a secret to keep and she 
must keep it. She felt as transparent as window glass. 
The affair of the earrings was perfectly obvious to 
them all. It must have been bribery, they were 
thinking. And it had been. And they knew it. So they 
knew she had a secret. And she must confess 
something... something... anything... to explain 
herself. To satisfy. To keep them from guessing the 
true secret. For Tony's life. 
     She sat on her bed in the dark and it came to her 
what she could tell them. 
     But she would not do it while Dr. Devon was in the 
house. She could not tell this lie to his eyes. 
     So she waited; and when she heard his car going 
away, she opened her bedroom door and walked back 
down the hall, down the stairs. This had to be done. 
      
     Below, Mrs. Redfern had just risen from her chair, 
with Hortense solicitously by her side. Bee and her 
father looked around at Alice with surprise. 
     "There is something I think I had better tell you, 
please," said Alice bravely. 



                              107
 



     "Yes, Alice?" Mrs. Redfern sat back. The whole 
room hushed and waited. They were already feeling 
satisfied. 
     "I didn't want to tell you," said Alice nervously. 
"It's something Tony doesn't know, you see. I only 
wanted to tell him first, myself." 
     She swallowed painfully. All of them were giving 
her their complete attention and she was launched, 
with no possibility of escape, into this lie. 
     "I was married once before," said Alice. 
     "Aah..." Hortense rocked on her feet. Bee 
straightened. 
     "Mrs. Peele knows about it, I suppose?" said Bee 
briskly. 
     Alice produced the inspiration that had come to 
her. Was Peele your mother's name? the doctor had 
said. 
     "Mrs. Peele was my mother-in-law," she said 
bluntly. "I had been married to her son." 
     Thunderclap. Silence. 
     Now they must concede that she was explained. 
One might give a valuable gift to one's 
ex-mother-in-law, especially if one wanted her to be 
quiet about the relationship. They were snobs 
enough to take this for a valid mo tive. Alice thought 
it was going very well. They were shocked enough. 
     "The marriage was just a mistake," she went on. "It 
didn't last at all. I ought to have told Tony. Of course, 

                               108
 



now I will tell him." She produced a tremulous smile. 
"I'm sorry." 
     "What is the son's name?" snapped Uncle 
Gregory. 
     Alice turned her eyes to him. "Cary." 
     Uncle Greg stretched high. "What makes you think 
you can lie to us?" he said furiously. 
     She didn't speak. 
     "Don't you think," said Gregory, "we check up on 
people hired to work in this house? We know Mrs. 
Peele lives with her son, Cary. We know he was 
married and divorced." 
     "Yes, I..." Alice's tongue fell. 
     "We checked it when she came here," said Uncle 
Gregory, "seven years ago." 
     Thunderclap. Silence. 
     "How old were  you," said Gregory, "more than 
seven years ago? Seven from, let us say, nineteen 
leaves twelve, I believe." 
     Bee laughed. 
     "And do you think I've forgotten," went on Uncle 
Gregory, who was not a stupid man, "that you asked 
me at the breakfast table who Mrs. Peele was? I think 
you've forgotten that. You are not a clever liar, Alice. 
Just a liar." 
     "Aah..." gasped Hortense. 



                               109
 



     "This is unforgivable, Alice," said Mrs. Redfern 
into the swirling silence. 
     "But you­" Alice rose. Her plot in ruins. Mortified 
beyond endurance and at bay ­ "you people!" She 
stormed childishly because there was nothing else 
that she could do. "You won't believe that anyone of 
Mrs. Peele's p-profession can be  a friend. You fuss 
so about those silly earrings. You keep looking down 
on me and making cracks. You..." She was weeping 
in helplessness. "Well, I have to wait here for Tony. I 
don't care what you think. I thought I'd give you 
something  to think. I thought it would please you. 
Well, I won't say any more to you, true or false." She 
turned to run. 
     "Alice," said Uncle Greg. 
     "Let her leave the room," said the old lady, sadly. 
"This is all quite impossible. Quite impossible." 
     Alice ran upstairs and threw herself upon her bed. 
What a fiasco! Shudders of humiliation shook her. 
The trouble  was, she honestly knew that if the 
situation was not her fault, it was not theirs either. 
They had good reason to look down on her now. 
How stupid she had been! And then how childish, 
how small she'd had to be! Never mind. Never mind. 
No humiliation mattered, if Mrs. Peele was going off 
to parts unknown, if the secret was still safe. 
     Whatever they guessed, they could not guess 
where Tony was. Because Alice would simply never 
tell. Never tell. And Tony would be back. She did not 

                               110
 



know what day, what hour, would see him safe. So 
just hang on. Do what she had to do tomorrow. Never 
mind them. Keep still. Don't tell. She was too poor a 
liar to lie any more. Alice buried her tired head. The 
house was quiet. 
      
     It was not as quiet as she thought it was. 
Downstairs Gregory was on the phone. 
     "Glad I caught you still awake, Walter." 
     "What's the trouble, Greg?" 
     "It's Alice. There seems to be something very 
peculiar... She just tried to tell us a shocking lie." 
Uncle Greg recounted the scene. "So I'm afraid 
there's something very wrong going on between her 
and this Mrs. Peele, Walter. Alice forgets she let slip 
to Hortense that she `had a reason.' And Hortense 
got it out of our cook... something was threatened. It 
sounds like blackmail. Now, we are in a responsible 
position. I thought you might help us." 
     "I'll be glad to try," said the doctor alertly. "Have 
you been in touch with young Tony?" 
     "No. No, I don't like to disturb him, so late. If we 
only had some hint that would tell us what we ought 
to do." 
     "It would seem she had a powerful motive," said 
the doctor thoughtfully, "to tell that lie." 




                            111
 



     "And who knows what the truth, may be? We 
know nothing about the girl. And, I am beginning to 
think, neither does Tony." 
     "I can see how it is worrisome," said the doctor 
sympathetically. "Perhaps I can drop by tomorrow. 
She might talk to me." 
     "Come for dinner," pressed Greg. 
     "Thank you. Yes, I will. Something else occurs to 
me. You say the cleaning woman was discharged?" 
     "Yes." 
     "Where does she live, do you know?" 
     Greg said, "I can look it up." 
     "Will you?" 
     Greg looked it up and the doctor took it down. 
     "Why do you want this, Walter?" 
     "Whatever is between them," said the doctor 
reasonably, "they both know what it is, you see? It 
might be easier to talk to this Mrs. Peele." 
     "I see, I see," said Greg, with admiration. 
     He hung up. Wednesday was over. 
      
     Wednesday; Mexico. Word seeped to Tony late in 
the day that Big Frank. was agreeable to a visit. So 
Tony went. 
     After politenesses, Tony suggested that if Big 
Frank wished anything done in Los Angeles, Tony, 
who was going there, would be quite willing to 

                             112
 



oblige. Big Frank, who was a rather 
distinguished-looking gentleman with long thin 
restless fingers, replied sweetly that all he wished 
done in Los Angeles was already being done. He 
thanked Tony just the same. 

























                        113
 



                  CHAPTER 7 

     On Thursday, Alice, neat and businesslike in her 
gray suit, walked into the branch bank fifteen minutes 
after it opened. An official came to her beckoning 
smile. "I am Alice Page," she said, in carefully 
planned, confident words. "My husband was called 
away suddenly and signed his traveler's checks, 
hoping that I could use them. My uncle, Mr. Gregory 
Stafford (She saw with relief the man's nod of 
recognition) said that if it seemed necessary you 
could call him." 
     "I see, Mrs.... er... Page." Alice tore a check out of 
the little book. He inspected it and smiled a cautious 
smile. "I had better call, if you don't mind?" 
     "Of course not." Alice leaned gracefully upon the 
counter. 
     She had avoided everyone this morning. She had 
left messages with Ellen. Gone for a walk. Exploring. 
     The bank man seemed to know Gregory very well. 
     "Greg. Hank Bowman, at the bank. Mrs. Anthony 
Page is here... how about these traveler's checks?" 
     Finally, he said beamingly, "That will be all right, 
Mrs. Page." 

                             114
 



     Now Alice handed him the entire bookful. 
     She walked out of the bank in another fifteen 
minutes with three hundred dollars in her purse. 
     The address where Mrs. Peele was to be found 
meant nothing to Alice. She looked up and down the 
street, but no cabs were to be seen cruising. So she 
found a telephone and summoned one. The driver 
looked shocked when she gave him the street and 
number. "Cost you about $7.50," he warned her 
gloomily. 
     Alice didn't care and convinced him of this. She 
felt free. It was wonderful to be away from that house. 
And she thought she knew what to do about Mrs. 
Peele. 
     Alice let the cab go when the long ride was over, 
for she could not afford to ride back again in such 
luxury. 
     She looked up at the two-story building, which 
stood in a nondescript neighborhood. The building 
was divided into two flats, and Alice hesitated 
between two doors. 
     "Hey, Alice!" somebody called over her head. "Up 
the stairs, dear. Door to your right." 
     Alice opened the door on her right and went up a 
steep gloomy enclosed flight of stairs. The door at 
the top was open and Mrs. Peele welcomed her 
within. 
     Alice looked around her and saw some suitcases 
standing on the floor. She realized that Mrs. Peele 

                           115
 



was dressed for traveling, in her black, all severe. 
Alice let her gaze drag over the suitcases and then 
looked a question. 
     "We'z about ready to take off," said Mrs. Peele 
with super-friendliness, born of nervous excitement. 
"Cary, he's got a half a day's little job but he's all set. 
I'z kinda waiting on you and that business." 
     Alice said, "Yes." She opened her purse. The black 
eyes went immediately to her hands. Alice said 
slowly, "I have it here. What did you say to your son, 
Mrs. Peele?" 
     "Nothing," said Mrs. Peele promptly. "I never said 
your name or that I knew you, even. I said I'z going to 
have a little extra, that's all. He trusts me." 
     Alice went on, still slowly, "If I don't give this to 
you, Mrs. Peele, what will you do?" 
     "Well, can't hardly see how we'd go," said Mrs. 
Peele with exasperation. "I'z counting on it. You know 
that." 
     "And what would you do if you couldn't go?" 
     "Well, now," said Mrs. Peele indignantly, "a favor 
is a favor and you know that. I mean, I'z counting on 
you. And if you didn't do what you said you'd do, 
then why should I?" The face was belligerent. 
     Alice put the packet of money down on the table. 
Mrs. Peele's hand darted to it. Alice said, quietly, 
"What you have just done is a crime. You could go to 
jail for it." 


                            116
 



     Mrs. Peele recoiled ­ not, however, letting go of 
the money. 
     "I was talking about blackmail," said Alice steadily. 
"No, I don't want the money back. You take it. The 
point I am making is ­ If you don't keep your side of 
this bargain, I can, and I will, see that you go to jail." 
     "What are you talking about? Blackmail!" burst out 
Mrs. Peele. "Sounds like blackmail, what you're 
saying." 
     "Yes, it does, doesn't it?" said Alice. "I wanted 
you to realize that the threat can go the other way." 
     Mrs. Peele sucked in her breath. "Listen, what if 
something kinda goes wrong, see, and I ain't to 
blame?" 
     "I will know," said Alice calmly. 
     "Don't know as I like this." 
     "You will have to like it," said Alice, sternly. 
"Because I won't take the money back. So the only 
solution is to be quiet. The only one. Well, good-bye, 
Mrs. Peele." She held out her hand. "I hope you have 
a successful trip." 
     "Hope so too, dear." Mrs. Peele spoke 
mechanically. She had the bills in her hand. "I guess 
we understand each other all right." 
     "I'm sure we do," Alice returned. "Neither of us 
will say a word to anyone. You must never say that I 
was here." 


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     "Well, that's okay." A bell pinged. "And you 
don't, either. Now, who's that?" Mrs. Peele went to 
the window. "Somebody in a yellow car." 
     "Is there any way down, except those stairs?" 
Alice felt her breath catching. She wanted no one to 
pass Alice  Hansen Page on these stairs. Also, her 
mind was groping for remembrance. A yellow car? 
"Better not let me be seen," she gasped. 
     Mrs. Peele chewed her pale lip. Her eyes swiveled. 
Perhaps the memory of the word "crime" was in her 
mind. "Why don't you just step in the hall, there. Or 
go on in the kitchen. It's prolly just a salesman." Mrs. 
Peele lifted her skirt and thrust the money inside the 
top of the stocking on the bare skin of her old thigh. 
"I'll. call you when whoever-it-is is gone. Okay?" 
     Alice stepped out of this living room into a narrow 
hallway that seemed to run through the middle of the 
flat to a brighter room at the back. She pulled the door 
shut behind her. The air was dusty and still. She 
heard Mrs. Peele sing out, "Who is it?" 
     Then she heard the suave familiar voice she had 
half expected. "Mrs. Peele? My name is Devon. Dr. 
Walter Devon. I am a friend of the Staffords." 
     "Them people owe me ten dollars," said Mrs. Peele 
promptly. "You bring it?" 
     "As a matter of fact, I did." Alice could hear an 
undertone of opportunism, a very faint amused 
surprise in his voice. 


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     "Well, thanks a lot." Mrs. Peele sounded pleased. 
"Nice of you." 
     "Oh, I wanted to come because I am also a very 
good friend of young Mrs. Page's," Alice heard him 
say. She could almost see his eyes, his smile. "I do 
want to help her in every way I can." 
     There was a second of silence. Then Mrs. Peele 
said, shortly, "Well, that's good, I guess." 
     "She told me all about it," purred Dr. Devon. 
"About the trouble." (Alice's nostrils flared 
suddenly.) 
     "Yah?" Mrs. Peele was noncommittal. (Alice 
clenched her hands.) 
     "I know you want to help her, too," the gentle 
voice went on. "I know you knew her in Indiana, but 
don't you think... ?" 
     "Yah?" said Mrs. Peele in a sudden hoot. "I dunno 
what you're talking about, Mister. I don't know you. 
And there ain't no trouble I know of. And ain't going 
to be any. So I'll say thanks for the ten bucks, and I'll 
say good-bye. I'm kinda busy." 
     Alice stood behind the door with her heart racing. 
She felt dizzy and she  put her hands on the wall 
behind to ease her body back upon its support. She 
did not entirely understand. But Dr. Devon was out 
there telling lies! And the old woman had been 
shrewd enough to perceive it. Something in Mrs. 
Peele was on Alice's side! 


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     "Just a moment," she heard him say, in less than 
dulcet tones. 
     In the barren, colorless, about-to-be-deserted 
room, the doctor's eyes examined this old woman. 
Tough old biddy. Not the type to be taken in by any 
friendship routine. Or charm, either. "I want to talk to 
you," he said rather harshly. "And you had better talk 
to me." 
     The woman was spreading her lips in a derisive 
smile. 
     "Alice Page gave you some earring he said with 
menace. 
     "And I gave `em back," she answered saucily. 
     "You lost your job." 
     "So what?"  The old woman was staring at him 
steadily. 
     "Now Alice says she was once married to your 
son." The doctor permitted himself a nasty smile. He 
expected denial but not the denial he got. 
     "Go on!" snorted Mrs. Peele. "Alice never said any 
such thing!" 
     "I assure you she did." The doctors lips drew back, 
felt dry. 
     "Naw!" Complete scorn. The old woman simply 
was not going to believe him, which was irritating 
when what he said was true. 
     "I want to know why," he said brusquely. 


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     "You do, eh?" The toss of the woman's head was 
infuriating. "And who are you?" 
     "Somebody who can get you into trouble," he said, 
with no aim but to intimidate. 
     "That so?" said Mrs. Peele with no visible alarm. 
     "I can get your son into bad trouble," said the 
doctor, hunting for a purchase on her. 
     The old woman's black eyes flickered. "No, you 
can't. Listen, you get outa here, will you? I dunno 
what's the matter with you." The fiercely clean old 
face expressed exasperation. 
     "Have you seen Alice today?" 
     "Nope. Get along, Mister." 
     "Where is your son?" He watched her. "Is he 
here?" 
     "Nobody's here, and it's none of your business 
where my son is." 
     He fell back upon quiet firmness. "Mrs. Peele, you 
know something Alice doesn't want you to tell." 
     "Is that so?" jeered Mrs. Peele. "You're the one 
said she told you something. Listen, Mister, who do 
you think you are, anyway?" She looked tough and 
embattled. He hadn't fooled her. He wasn't scaring 
her. He had no purchase. 
     "You are going to tell me," he said. 
     "Oh, I am, am I?" said Mrs. Peele. "You sure got a 
crust!" 


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     He remembered that flicker. "If you don't," he said 
coldly, "I will arrange to have your son arrested." 
     "Aw, shut up," said Mrs. Peele, disgustedly. 
     The doctor felt his temper rising. 
     "I have friends on the police force..." he began. 
     "You're a great kidder," she said. "You bet you 
are." And then, viciously, "You got nothing!" 
     She simply did not believe that he was dangerous. 
     But he was! He was! 
     "You run along outa here," she said. "I got no 
time." The old woman lifted her hard muscled arm, put 
her big hand flat on his chest, and gave him the 
contemptuous push one gives a stubborn child. 
     As he staggered, the doctor's mind flamed. The 
physical indignity outraged him. "Listen, you old 
bat," he said viciously. "You want to see your son 
arrested for pushing dope?" 
     "I guess you're plain nuts," said Mrs. Peele. 
     "Oh you do, do you?" He caught her wrist in his 
fingers and twisted. His anger had made him say 
something indiscreet and this made him angrier. "Now 
see here. Stop this nonsense. What is between you 
and Alice Page?" 
     "Wouldn't you like to know?" said Mrs. Peele, her 
eyes mocking him with angry triumph. "And for 
nonsense, man, you got the world beat. Arrested! For 
pushing dope!" Her voice rose in a screech of 
derision. 

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     "You have no idea," said the doctor, "how easily I 
could fix just that. Believe me." 
     "I wouldn't believe you! Better let go of me, 
Mister, or I got a mind to throw you down them 
stairs." 
     So he twisted his fingers on her skin land Mrs. 
Peele yelped and then they were wrestling. 
     He was putting his strength in his one hand 
against the formidable strength in her arm. He found 
himself moving the few feet to the open door. Then 
they were out at the head of the stairs. He said, 
through clenched teeth, "I'll let you go when you tell 
me..." 
     "You got everything real wrong, Mister," panted 
Mrs. Peele. "I ain't going to let you go, and my son, 
he's coming in a couple minutes, and he's going to 
beat you up like you never been beat..." 
     His hand ached. 
     "Dope!" shrieked Mrs. Peele. "Dope, you say? 
Well, we'll see about you and dope. Maybe you got 
friends in the police. I heard about snoops like you 
before. You try that, Mister... the police would like to 
know about it!" 
     The doctor perceived that he had said a good deal 
too much. Frantically, he used both hands, both arms, 
and ­  on almost the first occasion in his life that he 
had been engaged in physical violence ­ he did quite 
well. The old woman tottered, and with no sound out 


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of her mouth, the long hard skeleton lost its balance. 
It went banging down the stairs. 
      
     Alice, standing behind that door, was shaking as if 
she were having a chill. Her hands dripped sweat. She 
pressed them on the wall with desperate force. She 
ought to have moved, gone through the door, 
stopped them, whatever they were doing scuffling 
out there. How could she have stopped them? And 
what were they doing? She could not see! 
     She could hear no more. All was quiet. The old 
woman was neither shrieking nor even speaking, now. 
She dared not move until her ears could tell her more. 
     The silence was  long. Had he gone? Could she 
escape? 
     She heard feet coming up the stairs. 
     Alice went rigid. Her whole frame was taut, 
paralyzed. Surely Mrs. Peele would sing out. Nobody 
sang out. So Alice knew it was the doctor, moving 
around on the other side of the door. 
     And he was the man, the evil man! He had lied! He 
had threatened! And narcotics were in the threat! 
And the threat was evil! He was the man. 
     He had used violence, too. Mrs. Peele must have 
been knocked unconscious somehow, somewhere. 
No sound of her. 




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     Then the doorknob rattled, two feet away. Alice 
stood against the wall and felt the sweat drip off her 
fingers. She did not breathe. 
     The door opened against her. It swung into her 
face. She did not move or breathe. If it hit the soft 
resistance of her paralyzed body, he would know it. 
He would find her. 
     The door did not swing quite far enough. 
     She could hear his breath whistle. He did not come 
through the door. He must be looking along the 
passage toward the kitchen. 
     All was very still in the flat. Very still. 
     Suddenly the door swung away from her. The latch 
clicked. She heard his feet going away. 
     They shuffled softly down the stairs. Alice did not 
move, except to breathe again. 
     She stood rigidly where she was. Someone would 
come soon. The son, Cary, was coming. She realized 
that she must move. She must go, see what she could 
do to help the old woman, who had physically fought 
to keep the secret, who had resisted pressure, who 
was reliable, after all. Help her. 
     This thought released the fear-bound limbs. 
     She swayed away from the wall. Her heart 
suffocating her, Alice cracked the door open. The 
living room was silent, empty. The suitcases stood on 
the floor. A little breeze flapped the sleazy curtains of 
the front window. 

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     Alice tiptoed across and looked down into  the 
street. No yellow car. No car at all. 
     Where was the old woman? 
     Alice tiptoed to the exit door, to the top of the 
stairs. 
     Mrs. Peele was lying, head down near the bottom, 
her skirts up to her knees. 
     Alice went down, fingers on the wall, shaking, 
shaking. 
     Mrs. Peele's neck was awry. No one could live, and 
her neck twisted so. 
     Alice did not touch her. She did not think of the 
money in the stocking top, which was still concealed 
by the skirt. Alice thought murder. Thought police. 
Thought again. 
     New questions swarmed into her mind. Had 
anyone heard that screeching, that thumping? Was 
there anyone in the downstairs flat? No, surely, for 
such a one would have heard, would have come to 
see, by now. 
     Alice clutched her purse in her sweating slippery 
hands. She stepped very carefully around what lay 
there. A spasm of her heart bade Mrs. Peele farewell. 
Then she pushed at the door to the street with one 
shoulder: it opened. 
     Alice slipped out into the air and walked, as slowly 
and as steadily as she could, on her trembling legs. 
Blinds were down in that downstairs flat. Nobody 

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was about. She walked to the corner, a mercifully 
short distance. There was a clock in the window of 
some kind of office there: 11:50. She turned the 
corner. No one in that office? Alice began to walk up 
the hill of the cross street. She turned the next corner. 
And the next ­ without aim, except to get far away. 
      
     Alice had "witnessed" a killing. But she could not 
tell! Two miles away, and lost, with no idea where she 
had got to, Alice had affirmed this in her mind. Gone 
over it again and again. 
     She could not tell. 
     Because Dr. Devon was the traitor, the one Tony 
was after. Because the police do not keep a prisoner 
incommunicado. If she told what she had heard, and 
knew, about the death of Mrs. Peele, they would 
arrest Dr. Devon, no doubt. But he would have a 
lawyer. He would be able to send messages. 
     If she told, the police would want to know what 
Alice had been doing there. Why had she come 
there? Why had she hidden herself there? Why had 
she given Mrs. Peele the money? (Oh, the money! 
She ought to have taken the money away. Too late.) 
     She could not imagine standing up against a police 
inquisition, stubbornly telling what she had done but 
not why. It would be impossible. They'd wear her 
down. They'd know how. Then Tony's secret would 
be known. 


                             127
 



     How could Alice trust the police to keep it a 
secret? Something was rotten in some law-enforcing 
department, or Tony wouldn't have had to go away. 
     Even if there were no rottenness, Dr. Devon would 
be told Alice's story. He, and his lawyer, would be 
most interested parties, with the right to know. So 
Devon could get word to Mexico. Tony would be in 
the trap. Tony would die. Corpse-dead. Mrs. 
Peele-dead. 
     No, thought Alice, I cannot tell. 
     Her original secret had a terrible secret added to it 
piggy-back. 
     When Tony was back safe, then she could tell. 
      
     Alice felt cold and filthy. Her clothing was 
beginning to dry upon her back. She had a bowl of 
soup at a counter. The heat of it was comforting. 
Then she set about finding herself, and putting 
herself on the way back to the house. There was one 
thing to do and one thing only. She must go back to 
the house and act as if Mrs. Peele were still alive. 









                             128
 



                  CHAPTER 8 

     It took a long time, on two bus lines, so that the 
afternoon was nearly gone when she slipped in at the 
back door, where she would not have to ring. She 
hurried through the kitchen and upstairs. She ripped 
off her clothes to bathe, to get physically clean. It 
would help some. She must get back in mood. She 
must try to pick up every thread as each thread had 
been this morning. 
     But Alice felt ten years older than she had this 
morning. I was only playing before, she thought. It 
was a bit of a game. I was, in large part, frightening 
myself with a "maybe." There was always the doubt. 
Maybe Dr. Devon was not the man. Maybe none of 
my worry was necessary. But now I know. Now it is 
no game. Now it is real. And if I do not take perfect 
care, something terrible will happen to Tony. 
     She had a strange conviction that this was going 
to make it, in a way, easier. 
     She began to dress. She was in her slip, fixing her 
face and hair, when there came a tap on her door. 
     It was Bee. "I thought you were back," said Bee. 


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     Alice groped for whatever thread had stretched 
between them. Music? 
     She said quickly, "You know, Bee, I should never 
have played the piano in this house." 
     "Oh, it wasn't so bad, for what it was," Bee said. 
     "Well, thank, you." Alice was able to marvel at this 
tolerance. 
     "The family is completely stuffy," Bee said with her 
habitual contempt. "Dr. Devon isn't stuffy, of course. 
He just has no taste for jazz." 
     Alice perceived that Bee's jealousy had been 
appeased. 
     "What a commotion you are making!" Bee looked 
amused. "What got into you to tell that crazy story 
about being married to Cary Peele?" Alice didn't 
answer. "Whatever you are trying to cover up," said 
Bee pityingly, "you really can't keep it a secret, you 
know." 
     "Oh, I was just silly," murmured Alice. "There isn't 
any secret..." 
     "Oh, yes, there is," said Bee complacently. "It will 
have to come out. The pressure is bad for you, don't 
you know that? For your own psyche. Much better to 
talk things out. You'll have to. Or you'll blow your 
top, eventually." 
     "Do you think so?" murmured Alice. 
     "I'm fond of Cousin Tony," said Bee suddenly. 
"I'd listen." Her dark eyes glistened. "Mother is 

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going out of her mind with curiosity. But I... well, I've 
learned a little bit about what it means if only 
someone will listen. I know if you keep things shut 
inside, you can be poisoned. I really know that." 
     Perhaps Bee meant well. But Alice simply could not 
help resenting Bee. 
     "I suppose you would promise not to tell?" she 
asked quietly. 
     Bee flushed. "You mean I blurted out it was your 
birthday yesterday? For heaven's sake, was that 
important?" Alice didn't reply, so Bee went on, in a 
moment. She seemed a bit contrite. "Well, I'm sorry," 
she said. "Do you know, Alice, I think you ought to 
talk to Dr. Devon. He..." (Was Bee trying to be 
generous?) "He is wonderful to talk to. And you've 
got to talk it out, whatever it is, and get rid of it. 
That's the only way." 
     "The only way to what?" said Alice. 
     "To... to peace..." 
     "I was getting dressed to go down for dinner," said 
Alice. "It was peaceful, I thought." 
     Bee stiffened. "I did the best I could." She was 
furious. "I offered. I was willing to be friendly ­ even 
with a liar! Aunt Geraldine sent me to ask you to come 
to her room," she added sharply. "I ought to have 
given you the message, period." 
     "Thank you for the message," said Alice gravely. 



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     Bee slammed the door. Alice could not find it in her 
heart to be sorry. 
      
     When, dressed in her blue, ready for dinner, Alice 
came into the old lady's room, she found her seated 
on a small pink love seat, dainty immaculate, every 
white hair in place ­ a lady. 
     "Will you sit down, please, my dear?" 
     Alice sat down upon a low slipper chair. Alice did 
not know how her own face had changed. She did not 
know that the very planes of her flesh looked refined 
and drawn toward the bone. She did not realize that 
she appeared more mature by ten years than she had 
the night before. She said, gravely, "Yes, ma'am?" 
     "We are all concerned about you, my dear, but I, 
particularly..." 
     "I'm sorry, ma'am. There is no need. I agree that 
what I did last evening is unforgivable," said Alice 
quietly. 
     Their eyes met. A tingling something passed 
between them. 
     "There are two sides to everything, " said the old 
lady slowly. "Perhaps I have not heard all your side." 
     "I acted like a stupid, spiteful child," said Alice 
calmly. 
     "I don't believe," said Mrs. Redfern, "that you are 
a stupid, spiteful child, Alice." 


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     The meeting of eyes was, in a way, opposition. Yet 
it was tingling to the nerves in some other way. 
     "I feel that I must ask you some questions," said 
Mrs. Redfern, "even if I risk being rather pressing." 
     Alice said nothing. 
     Mrs. Redfern started obliquely. "This has all been 
very unpleasant­" 
     Alice said agreeably, "Yes, it has." 
     "Beatrice has made some horrid suggestions." 
     "I know." 
     "You know?" When Alice did not respond further,. 
Mrs. Redfern touched her dry lips with her tongue. "I 
scarcely know what to say to you. I hoped to make 
you understand that as Tony's family, and now 
yours, we rightfully feel concern when something 
troubles you." 
     "I do understand that, ma'am." 
     "What is it that troubles you?" 
     "Nothing troubles me," said Alice with a faint 
smile. "Thank you for feeling concerned." 
     Now Mrs. Redfern's eyes fled. "It occurs to me ­ I 
am afraid that I did notice, on the first afternoon that 
you came... was there not something you hesitated 
to tell me?" 
     "No." Alice remembered nothing. 
     "I believe that you did hesitate," the old lady 
contradicted gently. "So I am assuming that this 

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trouble relates to your family?" Alice couldn't speak. 
She couldn't seize on this or try to lie any more. "I am 
sure it is nothing to be ashamed of," said Mrs. 
Redfern, benignly. 
     The condescension stung. The old lady perceived 
how Alice winced. "Oh, Alice, my dear child... Tony 
has married you, left you here. You are in my house," 
she said. 
     Alice said flatly, "I do wish Tony hadn't left me 
here." 
     Now it was the old lady's turn to wince. 
     "But since he did," said Alice, "I must wait for him, 
mustn't I?" 
     "Of course." 
     "That is what I'll do,' said Alice, "as unobtrusively 
as I can." 
     "Very well," said the old lady, bleakly. 
     Eyes met, for the last time, with a certain respectful 
stubbornness in each pair. 
     Alice escaped. 
     She sighed deep. 
      
     She started down the circular stairs. 
     At the foot, Uncle Gregory stood watching her. 
     "Will you come in here, please," he snapped. He 
was home early. He was upset. Alice stiffened her 
spine. 

                             134
 



     He led her into a very small denlike room, tucked 
into the house corner under those circular stairs. He 
shut the door. She felt imprisoned. 
     "Mrs. Peele is dead." 
     He was brutally abrupt, but Alice could not feign 
surprise. She could do nothing but stand with her 
back to the little desk, dumb and numb. 
     "Her son, Cary, called me at my office," said Uncle 
Gregory. "Now, what do you know about this? I want 
the truth!" 
     Alice swallowed. Her hand crept up to her throat. 
She shook her head. 
     "We will have no lies this time," said Uncle 
Gregory sharply. "Hank Bowman, at the bank, was in 
touch with me this afternoon." Gregory's eyes were 
shrewd. "You cashed three hundred dollars' worth of 
traveler's checks?" 
     "Yes, I did," said Alice. There was no way to deny 
this. She knew, now, how much she had to admit. 
     "On Mrs. Peele's body," said Uncle Greg, "they 
found three hundred dollars." 
     Alice closed her eyes. 
     "Cary knows nothing about it," said Uncle Greg. 
"Bowman won't make the connection. At least I hope 
not. But I make the connection and I'll have the truth 
out of you, please. You gave that three hundred 
dollars to Mrs. Peele, didn't you?" 
     "Yes, sir, I did," said Alice. 

                                135
 



     "Why?" 
     "Did you say she is dead?" Alice faltered. 
     "Yes, I said she is dead. Tell me about that money. 
At once, Alice." 
     "Yes, sir. You remember... I was the cause of her 
losing her job? I hadn't meant her to lose her job. 
When she needed a little money to get started 
somewhere else... I thought I ought to be helpful ­ if 
I could." 
     "You were not bribing her to keep quiet, as Bee 
suggests?" 
     Alice's head ached. Her eyes ached. She shook the 
aching head. 
     "You thought Tony wouldn't mind?" Uncle Greg's 
mouth had a bit of a sneer. 
     "I do think," said Alice in a low voice, "it will be for 
Tony to ask about what I have done with our 
money." 
     Uncle Greg said, with an exasperated snort, "I 
don't believe you. You are too brainy. You absolutely 
cannot have been so stupid. I think you  are 
concealing something. What a mess you have got us 
into now!" He took a few paces and turned. "Cary 
Peele found his mother at the bottom of some stairs 
with her neck broken," he snapped. 
     Alice covered her face with both hands. 
     "Take your hands down, young lady. I want the 
truth. Were you there when this happened?" 

                             136
 



     Alice said, "No." 
     "But you were there sometime today?" 
     "Yes." 
     "A good thing you say so," pronounced Uncle 
Greg grimly, "because there is a cab driver who has 
contacted the police. Now tell me," he demanded. 
     "I had promised her the money," said Alice very 
quietly. She lifted her chin, calm with her desperate 
imperative. "So I cashed the checks and I did take a 
cab to her place. I went upstairs and gave her the 
money. We said good-bye and I came down. It took 
five minutes. And that's all." 
     "You got there at 11:25 this morning?" 
     "Did I?' said Alice. 
     "That driver says so. How long were you there?" 
     "No more than five minutes," she lied again. "Not 
even that. What... happened to her?" 
     Uncle Greg chewed his mouth. "Now," he said, "I 
must make you understand this mess you are in. If 
Bowman ever... That driver says he picked up a girl 
in gray. He knows where. He can describe you. He 
knows when you got there. Who knows when you 
left?" 
     Alice simply shook her head. 
     "Young Peele says the police are looking for this 
girl in gray," said Uncle Greg with bitter distaste. "Do 
you understand? If Bowman ever makes the 


                              137
 



connection... I don't know what we are going to do. 
This is a murder case." 
     Alice gasped. 
     "Her wrist, you see," said Uncle Greg. "Somebody 
had hold of her wrist so violently that it's marked. 
Alice, was that you?" Now his severity was displaced 
by pleading. Uncle Greg was afraid. 
     "No, sir," said Alice steadily. "It was not I." 
     "You left her alive?" 
     "Yes, sir." 
     "You can't... help the police at all?" 
     Alice could sense a loosening of tension in Uncle 
Greg. He was looking for a way out. "No, sir, I can't," 
she said earnestly. "I saw nobody there. She was all 
alone. I left her alive." These were lies and she asked 
with curiosity, "Do you believe me?" 
     Uncle Greg gave her a cold stare. "I believe you," 
he said, "and I'll tell you why. You gave the woman 
three hundred dollars. It is still there. If you'd had 
anything to do with that fatal fall, you certainly would 
have taken the money back." 
     Alice showed no reaction. 
     "Now," he went around the small desk to a chair, 
"sit down. Sit down," he commanded briskly. "We'll 
have to decide what's best to be done." She sat 
down. "The last thing I want," said Uncle Greg, "is to 
see this family dragged into any connection with a 
murder case. I don't intend, if I can help it, to trouble 

                               138
 



Aunt Geraldine. It is simply too... sordid. Very well. I 
am willing to believe that you left the woman's home 
before she fell. On one condition. That is, if you tell 
me the rest of it." 
     "There is no..." 
     "Why did you give her the money? Why the 
earrings in the first place? What is behind this, 
Alice?" 
     "I've told you..." she said. 
     "No, you have not." 
     "I'm sorry..." 
     "Then I must call Tony at once," said Uncle Greg. 
"If he can make you talk sense, then let him do it. You 
are his problem, actually. I don't see what any of us 
have done to deserve this. Where is he?" he 
snapped. "In Minnesota? What is the name of the 
place?" 
     "Lake Partridge," Alice said, faintly. 
     "And the name of the man... his boss?" 
     "Mr. Delgado." 
     Uncle Greg stood up.  "You refuse to tell me, do 
you? You insist you felt only friendship for that 
woman?" 
     "But that is so," said Alice. 
     "You tossed away three hundred dollars of your 
husband's hard-earned money?" 
     "Tony will understand," she murmured. 

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     "We shall see," said Uncle Greg grimly. 
     He opened the door and set off down the hall for 
the telephone. Alice followed him. In the midst of this 
trouble, she somehow felt fairly certain that Uncle 
Gregory was not going to turn her over to the police. 
Not if he could find a way out of it. 
     But her heart hurt. Tony! Tony! Tony! He wasn't 
in Minnesota. 
     She thought, Shall I tell Uncle Gregory all of it? 
Now? Tell him that Dr. Devon killed Mrs. Peele? Oh, 
how can I? How could he believe me? He thinks I am 
a liar. He knows I am a liar. I am a liar. I can't make 
him believe, and be afraid for Tony, as I am, and keep 
quiet. 
     Could not tell. 
     Uncle Greg was being savage with a brace of 
operators. Then he was talking to someone in 
Minnesota. "Mr. Tony Page, please.... Oh? When did 
he leave?... Oh, I see... Then you don't think he will 
be in Chicago yet?... Yes, I see. Thank you." 
     Alice's heart seemed to expand and soften. 
     "Tony's left for Chicago," said Uncle Greg, "and 
won't be there yet. So I can't reach him at the 
moment. What am I going to do with you?" 
     "I can't help the police at all," said Alice in a low 
voice. "But you must do whatever you think you 
ought to do." 



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     He grimaced. He said, "I'll reach Tony in the 
morning. Meanwhile, be quiet, Alice. Don't speak of 
this to the ladies." 
     "No, sir," Alice said submissively. "I promise you." 
      
     Lake Partridge, Minnesota, was calling Los 
Angeles. For a man named Simmons. 
     "Herb Innes, sir. Something funny. Tony Page's 
wife never showed in Chicago." 
     "Where is she?" 
     "Don't know, but there was a call for Page at 
Delgado's place. Just now. From Glendale. We 
ducked it. Said Tony was en route to Chicago." 
     "Right." 
     "This... er... wife ­ knows..." 
     "I realize." 
     "Don't like it, sir." 
     "Cover Page if you can," the Old Man said. 
     "No word? He's not back?" 
     "No. You better be in Chicago." 
     "I'll fly down. Immediately." 
     "Right. Cover him if you can." 
      
     Thursday; Mexico. Tony spent most of the day 
hunting up a certain import-export firm that 
operated as quietly as Big Frank did... dealt in 

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jewels and other hard goods. Here he offered his 
services. When he was turned away, with blank 
looks, Tony felt satisfied that Big Frank would have 
a report of this, before night fell. 
     Slow, thought Tony. But easy might do it yet. 
      
     Alice went into the big room to wait for dinner. 
Soon the ladies gathered there. Hortense gave her a 
look of such flaming curiosity as to seem almost mad, 
but Hortense said nothing. Mrs. Redfern took her 
usual place  ­ in the middle of the shrine, thought 
Alice. Bee flounced in, ignoring Alice. Which was 
dandy. 
     She felt fairly steady. Uncle Greg was going to stall 
until morning. And for the moment Tony was 
protected by some blessed liar in Minnesota. The 
ladies hadn't heard of the death of Mrs. Peele. There 
would be a stretch of calm, a recess from stress. 
     So she drew her breath. 
     Then she heard Ellen at the door... Ellen saying, 
"Good evening, Dr. Devon." 
     The custom of the house permitted Alice a few 
minutes... just a few minutes... to brace herself once 
more. She hadn't known Dr. Devon was coming here 
tonight! To dinner! She was filled with panic. 
     What could she do now? How could she meet the 
eyes of this man? This traitor? This criminal? This 
murderer? But she must! Not only must she meet his 
eyes, but she must make him believe that, for her part, 

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nothing had happened. All was exactly as it had been 
before, between the two of them. The thread... oh, 
how had it been? She remembered that she had rather 
liked him. He had seemed to be on her side. She had 
thought he was nice. But this? Impossible! How seem 
to be somewhat charmed by this evil man  ­ who 
could send the word to murder Tony. Tony! 
     The saving thought came. 
     What if it were Tony who had just rung the bell? 
What if it were Tony about to come into this room, 
right now? 
     As Dr. Devon's figure appeared in the arch, 
everyone saw Alice look up and over her pretty face 
come a radiant greeting. The mouth curved, the eyes 
shone. She was throwing at him the whole wonderful 
dream of seeing Tony safe. A line seemed to jump 
between them. A connection quivered in the air. "Hi!" 
burst Alice ­ as if it had been Tony. 
     Dr. Devon could not help responding with a warm 
smile. "Hello, young Alice," he said, affectionately. 
     Then he must turn to greet the ladies and receive 
the dark suspicious look from Cousin Bee. 
     Uncle Greg came up behind him. "Walter, I wish 
you would step into my den a minute, please." 
     "Of course, Greg. Excuse me?" The men withdrew. 
     The glow faded from Alice's face. There was to be 
no recess at all. Greg was about to confide his 
quandary to Dr. Devon. She knew this. She had been 
wary of exactly this when she had made it as clear as 

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she could that she had not stayed with Mrs. Peele, 
beyond a few minutes. Dr. Devon was going to have 
to believe that Alice had left Mrs. Peele alive... had 
been gone... knew nothing. Because if he did not 
believe this... Alice felt cords tightening in her back. 
He must believe it!  Slowly, she felt her confidence 
rise. He would believe it, because she had been able 
to smile at him, for Tony. Why, she could do any-
thing! Anything at all! For Tony. 
     She looked down and saw her heart shaking the 
fabric of her dress. 
     Bee said furiously, "What's going on in this 
house? Alice has secrets. Now Dad has secrets." 
     "Aaaah," murmured Hortense. 
     "Did you have a pleasant day, Alice?" Mrs. 
Redfern's gracious tones rode over Bee's unladylike 
agitation. 
     Alice replied in kind. "It was very interesting, 
ma'am," she answered, pleasantly. "This is a 
fascinating city." Their eyes met, smiling. 
     The men were shut in together, in the tiny den. 
"Tony's on his way to Chicago, so I can't reach him 
until  he gets there." Gregory's eyes were wide and 
anxious. "What am I to do, Walter?" 
     Dr. Devon listened quietly. He pursed his lips but 
he did not open them. 
     "You don't have to tell me," burst Gregory, "that I 
ought to call the police, right now. Alice is the girl in 
gray. She admits it. But I don't want to do that, 

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Walter. I am thinking of the family. I am thinking... 
and I admit this frankly... of myself." 
     "You believe what Alice tells you. 
     "Oh yes, as far as she goes. I know she hasn't told 
me everything. I don't know why she gave away that 
money." 
     "But you don't believe that Alice had anything to 
do with the woman's death?" 
     "Of course not," said Greg impatiently. "Do you?" 
     "No, no, I don't believe it for a moment," soothed 
the doctor ­ who knew. 
     "I wish you had seen the woman, Walter," groaned 
Gregory. 
     "I am a busy man," sighed the doctor. "I wish I 
had. You say it was the woman's son who called 
you?" 
     "Yes. We were her employers..." 
     "The police have not called you?" 
     "No, no, but they may. I imagine they will. I'll say 
this much, Walter. I intend to wait at least until 
morning. I don't think I am bound to call the police 
tonight. What I wonder... You see, what worries me 
is that the police may know more than I know they 
know. Now, you have friends, I believe..." 
     "You would like me to... inquire quietly?" 
     "I... What do you think?" 



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     The doctor thought a moment. "It might be wiser if 
you inquired," he said finally. "You know the local 
authorities. You know Chief Townsend here pretty 
well, Greg." 
     "Yes," said Greg, reluctantly. 
     "He would be able to talk to his opposite number. 
You were the woman's employer. You have that 
natural interest." 
     "Yes." 
     Now Dr. Devon told Greg what Greg wished to be 
told. "I don't think you are required to throw young 
Alice to the police, at this moment. Perhaps never. I 
certainly don't think you are required to bring down 
garish publicity upon your family until you know 
more than you do. You ought to know  ­ first, what 
the police are up to. Second, what Alice herself was 
up to with the woman." 
     "I agree," said Gregory with a heavy sigh. "I think I 
follow you. Suppose, for instance, the police have 
already found the killer? That would let us out." 
     "Just so," said Dr. Devon. "Did the son tell you 
anything like that? Is there a suspect? Was anyone... 
anything... seen? A car, for instance?" 
     "He said not. He mentioned only that cab driver. 
How they got on to him, I do not know. Of course, the 
son may not have been told. Or perhaps something 
has turned up since..." 
     "My point," said the doctor gently. "Why don't 
you call Townsend now, Greg?" 

                            146
 



     "You think I...?" Gregory fidgeted. 
     "If I were to do it for you," said the doctor 
smoothly, "it might be just a little... dubious? I don't 
have the natural interest. It might look... later... well, 
a bit devious on your part. Do you follow me?" 
     Greg nodded. 
     "And, of course we have this evening," the doctor 
said, "during which I will see whether I can't 
persuade young Alice to confide in me. She is 
rather... drawn to me, I think," he added 
complacently. 



















                            147
 



                   CHAPTER 9 

     When Dr. Devon returned to the big room alone, it 
seemed to Alice that Uncle Gregory had gone to the 
phone in the hall, but she had no anxiety to spare for 
him. What must her mood be now? Why, she was in 
trouble and the doctor was her understanding friend. 
So Alice sent him a less happy smile, a smile tinged 
with appeal. 
     The doctor renewed his greetings to the ladies, but 
the connection had jumped into the air. He sat down 
near Alice. Between him and Alice there was that line. 
"You mustn't worry at all," he murmured for her ear. 
     She cast down her eyes. 
     "You would like a cocktail, doctor, I am sure," said 
the old lady and Hortense rose to trot away. "And 
how is Mrs. Devon?" inquired the lady hostess. 
     When Greg came in, a moment or two later, he sent 
a nod across the room and the doctor received it. 
     Then Bee made a strange noise in her throat. Alice 
looked at her. Bee was wild. 
     "All right," cried Bee, "what is it? What is it?" 



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     "What is what?" said Gregory impatiently. "We are 
having Martinis, aren't we?" 
     "Do you think I am stupid?" blazed Bee. "Nods 
and winks and whispers all over this place!" 
     "Beatrice..." said her great-aunt. 
     "Aunt Geraldine, I don't care. I don't see why they 
keep us out of it. Alice knows! Why should Alice 
know?" 
     Hortense was back. She stood there with her 
narrow shoulders hunched, her long neck craned 
forward. "Ellen will bring them in a minute. Know 
what?" 
     Gregory said, "Will you be quiet, Bee? Will you 
both, please?" 
     "No, I will not be quiet!" Bee was out of control. "I 
will not be treated like a child. My own father... Dr. 
Devon..." (My own Dr. Devon, her manner betrayed.) 
     Dr. Devon betrayed a whiff of dislike. He said 
smoothly, "It really does not concern you, Beatrice." 
     "Whom does it concern, then? Alice?" Bee's black 
eyes swam with tears. "Why should you be so 
concerned with Alice? Always Alice! Ever since she 
came..." 
     Mrs. Redfern said, "Beatrice, you must not make a 
scene." 
     The doctor said, "Of course not. There is no need." 
He wore his smile. 


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     Mrs. Redfern's head was high and she was not 
smiling. "There is never need for a scene," she said, 
coldly. "If anything troubles you, Gregory, you may 
quietly explain." 
     "I'll handle it, Aunt Geraldine. I won't have you 
bothered..." 
     "Alice," said Mrs. Redfern, "is my grandson's wife 
and my guest. If it concerns her, then I am bothered. 
Now, if you please...?" 
     Dr. Devon chose to help Gregory off this spot. 
"Perhaps," he purred, "it is best that this dear lady 
does not read the newspaper in the morning... 
without warning." 
     Gregory said uneasily, "Maybe." 
     "Something sad has happened," said the doctor, 
gently. "Your Mrs. Peele has had... well, an 
accident." 
     The old lady took this in, tasted it, digested it, 
began to question it. 
     "Yes," said the doctor, watching her, "the poor 
woman is dead." 
     "Aaaah­" Hortense went to a chair and threw her 
bones into it. 
     Ellen came with a tray and two cocktails. The room 
froze while the men took them. 
     When she had gone Mrs. Redfern said, quietly, 
"How did this happen?" 


                            150
 



     "She fell, it seems," said the doctor, "on some 
stairs." 
     "Aaah..." 
     "It is bound to be in the paper," the doctor said to 
Gregory, who shrugged helplessly. 
     Bee said, "Go on. Go on." Her eyes were burning. 
     The doctor went on. "There seems to be some idea 
of... foul play." Then, on the heels of this shock, he 
turned to Alice. "We are hoping," he said, "that 
Alice, who, of course, knew Mrs. Peele years ago, 
may be able to tell us something about her." 
     Alice began to shake her head. 
     Bee wasn't having any. Bee said, "Alice knew! She 
is not surprised. Alice knew all about this?" 
     "Why, yes..." 
     "How did she know?" 
     "I told her," said Gregory. "For Pete's sake, Bee..." 
     Bee paid him no attention. "I heard you," she cried 
to the doctor. "I heard what you said to her.  Why 
mustn't she worry? What is there that she mustn't 
worry about?" 
     "Just a moment, please," said the doctor sternly. 
"Just a moment..." 
     "Alice is mixed up in the whole thing, isn't she?" 
raged Bee. "That old woman knew something! Maybe 
Alice did it to her!" 



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     Gregory's patience gave out. "If you aren't quiet," 
he said to his daughter viciously, "I will see to it that 
you are kept quiet." 
     "This is too bad," said Dr. Devon mournfully. 
"Beatrice, that was very irresponsible. I am ashamed 
for you. Dear Mrs. Redfern, may I bring you 
something? Are you feeling ill?" 
     Mrs. Redfern's face had lost all pink. 
     Alice said , in real distress, "Please, Uncle Gregory! 
You are all just making things worse." 
     But Mrs. Redfern's voice had not lost its calm, nor 
did it lack authority. "Alice, I think you had better 
explain." 
     "But I can't..." gasped Alice, "I promised." 
     The doctor's head  snapped around. "You 
promised? Whom?" 
     Alice said, eyes wide, "I promised Uncle Gregory." 
     Uncle Greg said, "Bee's torn that. Too late. They'll 
have to hear it all." He glared at Bee. 
     Bee was sitting stone still. 
     Alice turned to the old lady. "Please, Mrs. Redfern, 
it is not at all what Bee said. It's only that I went to 
see Mrs. Peele this morning. That's what bothers 
Uncle Gregory, and the doctor, too. I only stayed a 
minute. She was perfectly all right. I don't really know 
anything at all that could possibly help the police... 
but..." 
     "Police!" hissed Hortense. 

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     Mrs. Redfern said, "Why did you go there, Alice?" 
     "Yes," said Uncle Gregory, "now that the whole 
thing is out on the carpet... why? Why did you go 
there and give the woman three hundred dollars?" 
     "Aaah..."  Hortense was beside herself. Bee did 
not move. 
     "But I have explained that," Alice said. "She was a 
friend. I've told you over and over. Don't any of 
you," she cried, "have a friend worth three hundred 
dollars?" 
     Her heart was shaking her whole body. How could 
she get out of this? 
     Mrs. Redfern put her tiny hand across her eyes. 
Her head bent and it was strange to see it bending. 
     The doctor sprang up. "We are not being wise," he 
said severely, "to continue such a scene. As our dear 
lady says, it is not necessary. If Greg feels that there 
is more that Alice might tell us, that Alice is reluctant 
to confide... do you know what occurs to me? I see 
here a situation in which I can be of assistance to you 
all." 
     He had the floor. 
     "You know me," he said to the family. "I am your 
friend. I think you trust me. You know my work. I 
propose to make myself the middleman here." He 
turned to Alice. "You must understand, my dear, that 
this family is simply anxious to know what its duty is 
in this matter. Therefore, someone must know exactly 
why you went to see this Mrs. Peele. Or gave her 

                           153
 



anything. You have been reticent about the 
relationship and very possibly for some excellent 
reason. But you are very young, my dear. And you 
are more or less a stranger here. It is difficult to accept 
your reticence. Don't you see that Greg needs a way 
to determine his duty? Toward his family. Toward 
Tony. And toward you. In the matter of informing the 
police, for instance. May I not be the one to resolve 
this impasse? Could I not reassure them?" 
     "I have just reassured them," Alice said, stiffly. 
     Bee said, hoarsely, "Yes, he can help. This is pretty 
bad, Alice. You will have to let him help you." Bee 
seemed to have been shocked into some human 
concern. 
     "Of course I can help her," the doctor said blithely, 
"help all of you. Let me ask you this. If Alice were to 
speak frankly to me, in private, and I were to tell you 
that she has had good reason for all she has done, 
and that I understand her reticence... wouldn't you 
believe me? Wouldn't you feel relieved?" 
     "That's right," said Greg. "That's a very good idea, 
Walter." 
     "Alice, of course," said the doctor softly, "must 
know that nothing she tells a man in my profession 
will ever be revealed." 
     Alice sat still. 
     "Does anyone else agree?" the doctor asked. 
     Hortense said, shrilly, "We don't mean to pry, 
Alice, but it has been so very peculiar! And now the 

                             154
 



woman is dead! You will have to explain. You will 
simply have to..." 
     Bee said hoarsely, "Yes." 
     "If Alice tells you something we ought to know," 
said Mrs. Redfern crisply, "Will you then tell us, 
doctor?" 
     "Oh, no," he said, quickly. "No, indeed. But I have 
some judgment. I can advise her. So I believe I can set 
all your minds at ease. Don't you think so, Alice?" 
     Oh yes, thought Alice. He can shut the family up. 
He can keep them at bay. They will all let me alone if 
he says so. He'll "understand" all right.  He'll have 
Tony killed! Her eyes filled with tears. 
     Dr. Devon leaned over her. "You are so miserable 
with this secret trouble," he coaxed, "so very 
miserable, poor young Alice. Let me take some of the 
burden. I am on oath, remember? You need not 
hesitate..." 
     The tears dried in Alice's eyes with magical abrupt-
ness. But I am on oath too, she thought, proudly. 
     She lifted her chin. She was sitting in everyone's 
attention, in the doctor's total attention. What she 
would say must be as close as possible to something 
she believed with all her heart. 
     She said, "I'm sorry. I don't like this idea." 
     Nobody spoke. 
     Alice stood up. "I have not killed anyone," she 
said. 

                             155
 



     "My dear, my dear, we don't believe for one mo -
ment..." the doctor crooned. 
     "Nor have I committed any crime... unless it was to 
give a woman some money." 
     "For what reason?" yelped Hortense. 
     "I do not wish," said Alice, coldly, "to analyze my 
reason. I do not want to talk about it. It doesn't seem 
to me that this blabbing..." she caught breath in, 
steadied her voice, "this pouring everything out, is 
always right. It seems to me that a person sometimes 
has a right to keep a secret. Even a very young 
person. A right to that dignity." 
     "No loss of dignity," purred the doctor. "Only the 
relief of talking it out to a sympathetic friend." 
     "That's true," said Bee. "That's true. Please let him 
help you." 
     "I am afraid," said Alice, "that `talking' isn't all 
there is to the relief of anything." 
     "But of course not," soothed the doctor. "It is a 
beginning." 
     "I am a stranger here," she interrupted. "None of 
you know me. I understand that. You respect Dr. 
Devon. You have known him a long time. Suppose Dr. 
Devon had given Mrs. Peele, or  anyone else, three 
hundred dollars? For reasons of his own? Would you 
insist that anyone had to know what his reasons 
were?" 



                            156
 



     "Perhaps not," the doctor murmured. His eyes were 
alive. Alice had the terrible impression that only he 
was understanding. 
     "Well, then Alice drew herself tall. "Perhaps I have 
what you are calling a secret. Perhaps I have made a 
mistake in my life and I do not want it known. Well, 
then, I believe that if  I have made mistakes,  I must 
seek to know that, and I must seek to live over them, 
and to come where I will deserve respect. I don't see 
that I will get there any better way than by using my 
judgment, and keeping my own conscience." She was 
faintly trembling. "I am the youngest generation here. 
Perhaps you don't understand us. We don't live in a 
shrine, like you, Mrs. Redfern. We are not protected." 
Eyes met with that small shock. Alice swung to the 
Staffords. "But we are not nervous, either. We stand 
up," she said. "I stand. I am not confused. I do as I 
choose to do. Choice is my right and ­ as long as I am 
not a criminal ­ so is the responsibility." 
     She had watered herself down long enough. Alice 
herself  was speaking. "You are ladies and 
gentlemen," she said, "are you not? I am only asking 
you for a certain decent privacy... I will ask the same 
thing of the police, if you say so." 
     Silence. 
     The phone chirped in the hall and Gregory scuttled 
to answer it, as if he were glad of escape. Dr. Devon's 
eyes were hooded. Mrs. Redfern gazed down upon 
her hands with a brooding air. Bee had a stunned 
look. Hortense was having trouble with her gasping. 

                            157
 



     Then Gregory came back into the room with a 
lighter tread. "That was Townsend calling," he 
announced almost cheerfully. "It seems there is a 
suspect." 
     "Oh?" The doctor looked alert. 
     "Or a clue to one," said Greg with satisfaction. 
"Some person had been standing behind a door in 
that flat, for some time. The wall is covered with 
fingerprints. Somebody lurked there. So that lets 
Alice out." And he sighed. 
     Alice stood still. 
     That lets Alice in... as she knew. 
     Between her and Dr. Devon there was a singing 
line, electric, quivering. 
     It was Bee who recovered her voice. "Alice, you 
were in that place. Was there a door... where 
somebody could lurk?" 
     Alice said, and her lips were cold, "I have no idea. I 
have told you all I can tell you. I will not be 
questioned any more. Please excuse me from dinner." 
     "You can't just walk out," Bee began, excitedly. 
     "Beatrice..." It was the doctor's voice. Smooth, 
exuding wisdom. "She can and she must. Alice is 
overwrought. We must excuse her." He lifted his 
hand. This was a decree. "Alice must go to her room 
and rest quietly. For her own sake. For all your sakes. 
Please believe me ­ I know this to be psychologically 
necessary." 

                               158
 



     He, of course, had them in his control. 
     Alice said, "Thank you, Dr. Devon." 
     Alice began to walk on the rug. She reached the 
tile. She reached the stairs. Her toes took them. 
      
     In the big room, Mrs. Redfern said, a trifle shrilly, 
"Is this a shrine?" 
     "What must we do?" burst Hortense. "What must 
we do now?" For once, Hortense was not rushing to 
Mrs. Redfern's side. 
     "Dinner is served," said Ellen. 
     "Put it back, please, Ellen," said Hortense, 
excitedly. "A half hour..." 
     "Yes, ma'am." 
     "Ellen, my dear," said Dr. Devon suddenly, "would 
you mind waiting upstairs in the hall? Please? Just... 
er... to make sure Mrs. Page is all right. If she needs 
us ­ if she moves at all ­ would you call?" 
     Ellen backed away, eyes popping. 
     "I am terribly afraid this is very serious," the doctor 
said to the family. 
     "You think it was Alice behind the door?" said 
Bee, with a calm shrewdness. 
     "It may have been," the doctor said sadly. "It may 
have been. And we must save her ­ from herself ­ if 
we can..." His eyes glazed: he was in deep thought. 
      

                             159
 



     Alice sat on the floor of her bedroom beside the 
window. Her cheek touched her bare arm, flesh 
comforting flesh. The mountain was out there, steep, 
and silent. Dusk was sliding up the mountain. 
     Let them flay me, she thought. No word about 
Tony. Ever. Nothing was left to her but silence. 
Silence and seclusion. 
     I will stay here, she thought, where I am. I will sit 
here, on the floor, and stare at the mountain until 
Tony comes. 
     Or, if they called the police, then jail and silence. 
She could stare at some wall. 
     She did not expect the police. She did not think Dr. 
Devon would permit that. He would be afraid of what 
Alice might have to tell. 
     So remain. Be silent. She did not fear Dr. Devon for 
herself. He might be afraid. But he could not know. 
And he could not get at her. 
     Stay here, in silence. 
      
     Thursday; Mexico. Late in the day, Tony saw Big 
Frank again. He was twitted, as Big Frank chose to 
display omniscience. Why had Tony approached 
unreliable people? Tony needed a job that bad, did 
he? So Tony let the balance go over. Yes, he said, the 
favor should go the other way. He needed a job. He 
hinted that he understood quite well the flow of 
narcotics from importer to consumer. He had 
hoped... 

                                160
 



     Big Frank laughed. He offered Tony a job in 
Mexico. Menial. Poorly paid. Tony refused it, 
cheerfully, like a man who, after all, could buy plane 
tickets and knew himself worthy of higher things. 
     No offense was taken on either side. They dropped 
the subject and reminisced. 
     Closer, thought Tony. 
      
     In the big room, the doctor had the floor. 
     "First," he decreed, "I think it is absolutely 
necessary to reach young Tony. In the meantime, I 
think it is absolutely necessary to protect young 
Alice. I think we must seclude her. I think I see how 
this can be done." 
     "Yes, yes, I'll get on to Tony," said Greg. "What 
are we to do about Alice? I don't know that I follow." 
     "For everyone's sake"  ­ the doctor's smile was 
gruesomely kind ­ "she must be secluded. To prevent 
the ruinous publicity for you dear people. For the 
young girl herself. To protect young Tony from it, 
who knows nothing about all  this and who must be 
informed. Even more important, it may be necessary 
to protect the girl from physical danger." 
     "Danger?" Bee said. 
     "If Alice was behind that door." 
     "Danger from the... from the one who did it?" 
     "Exactly. That's why it cannot be allowed to get 
into a newspaper that Alice was anywhere near that 

                               161
 



flat. Don't you see?" said the doctor impatiently. "A 
killer may kill again. Isn't that quite possible?" He 
looked around at their frightened faces and felt the 
pleasure of power. "Believe me, this  could be 
dangerous," he said. 
     "Tell us what we can do, doctor," quavered 
Hortense, who was with him heart and soul. 
     "I propose... now, you would naturally send up a 
tray?" 
     Mrs. Redfern was sitting erect once more. She had 
been listening stonily. "The child must be fed," she 
said rather sharply. "She is in my house." 
     "Then I can see..." 
     Bee interrupted. "Alice is just confused, isn't she, 
doctor? She is terribly confused. She ought to have 
told us. You don't think she... did it?" Bee's eyes 
hunted his face for some comfort. 
     The doctor said in sad melodious tones, "Of 
course not. But she is overburdened, Beatrice. That 
outburst came from a burdened psyche. You are so 
right that she needs to tell. Someone must reach her 
and help her. She cannot stand alone." 
     "No," said Bee hypnotically. "No, this is terrible." 
     "Got to do something," said Greg nervously. 
     "The way I see it," said Dr. Devon, "may appear to 
be arbitrary. It is merely kind. I have sedatives in my 
car. I think it should be possible to administer enough 
in her food, on the tray... oh, not to harm her in any 

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way. Simply to permit me to take her, tonight, to a 
private hospital. There is one I... er... know. This 
would effectively remove her from any police 
questioning. It will give us time." 
     "That's right," said Greg hopefully. 
     "Furthermore, once she is there... I know of certain 
other drugs, useful in my work, which more or less 
reduce a resistance, you see? I am quite sure that, 
with their aid, I can induce her to, confide in me. Once 
I know the extent of her knowledge... I mean to say, 
whatever it is that has been burdening her mind... I 
can better advise how to deal with it." 
     "Of course," said Hortense emphatically. "She has 
to be made to tell you everything!" 
     Greg straightened. "Then shall I speak to cook? 
Will you come along to the kitchen, Walter?" 
     The men moved. Mrs. Redfern said, "If someone 
will please help me to my room?" 
     Bee stumbled up and toward her. "Oh, Aunt Geral-
dine...! You shouldn't... you shouldn't..." 
     "I cannot sit to dinner," said the old lady, "if you 
will all excuse me?" 
     "Oh, no! You shouldn't have even heard all this. 
I'll help you..." Bee said. 
     The doctor was saying to Greg, "A half-hour, I 
would say. We will send up the tray and then perhaps 
we can dine? Then, I think..." Mrs. Redfern was 
passing, supported by Bee. The doctor gave the old 

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lady one of his smiles. "You must rest, dear lady," he 
said kindly. "Please rest in the assurance that there 
will be no scandal. No publicity. You may be sure we 
will see to that. All is well. We have modern ways to 
deal with these problems. Don't trouble yourself to 
think about it at all." 
     "If I may be excused?" she repeated gracefully. 
     "Of course," said the doctor with an air of 
tolerance and understanding. 
     At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Redfern disengaged 
her arm. "I can manage now, Beatrice." 
     "Oh, Aunt Geraldine, that she has got us into a 
mess like this? But trust the doctor. He 
understands..." 
     "You may leave me, Beatrice," said the old lady. "I 
am quite steady, as you see." 
      
     Thursday; Mexico. As Tony was taking his 
departure, Big Frank asked him when he intended to 
leave the city. Tony said he had a plane seat for 
Sunday. 
     "See you before you go, eh?" Big Frank inquired. 
     "Up to you," said Tony. "Otherwise, so long..." 
     It left a couple of days. Friday. Saturday. 
     Tony thought he might still get something. 
      



                            164
 



     Alice brooded upon the mountain with somber 
eyes until somebody knocked on her bedroom door. 
"Yes?" 
     "It's Ellen, Mrs. Page. With a tray for you." 
     "Oh, thank you," Alice got up and unlocked the 
door. "I'll take it. Thank you very much." 
     "That's all right, Mrs. Page," said Ellen with large 
eyes. She drew away nervously. 
     Alice, using both hands, carried the tray to the 
dressing table and set it down. She turned. She would 
lock the door again. But Tony's grandmother was 
standing in the door. 
     "Excuse me, ma'am," said Alice gently. "I think I 
had best be left alone." 
     "You may go down, Ellen," the old lady said. 
     "Ma'am, I was told to wait up here..." 
     "This is my house," said Mrs. Redfern, "and you 
and I are old friends, Ellen. In half an hour or so you 
must say that everything is very quiet. And that is all 
that you must say." 
     "Yes, ma'am." 
     Alice put her hand out toward the door, but Mrs. 
Redfern touched it. Mrs. Redfern closed it, behind 
her. 
     "I have come to tell you that there is a drug in your 
food." 
     Alice recoiled. 


                             165
 



     "They plan to take you to a hospital." 
     "A hospital!" 
     "Alice?" 
     "Yes, ma'am?" 
     Mrs. Redfern stood very straight. "In my time, we 
used to manage. We felt it important to keep certain 
personal dignity. We took responsibility upon 
ourselves." 
     "I'm  ­ I'm glad if you understood..." Alice 
stammered. But the old lady's eyes were bleak and 
sad. 
     "That is why I have come to warn you. I cannot 
permit this. I cannot agree that it is right." 
     "To... take me away?" 
     "They plan something more. Dr. Devon is saying 
that he knows of certain other drugs." 
     "Other drugs?" 
     "That lessen your resistance. That induce a 
state... so that once you are helpless in a hospital, 
you will tell him everything he cares to know." Mrs. 
Redfern clasped her tiny hands together. Alice went 
close to her swiftly, for she looked as if she would 
fall. 
     Mrs. Redfern held on to Alice's arm. "Gregory, 
Hortense, and poor Beatrice... they agree to it. But I 
cannot agree." 
     "They plan to drug me... until I tell?" Alice was 
terrified. 

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     "And that is rape!" said the old lady fiercely. "Of 
the mind." Eyes met with shock. "That is  wrong." 
Mrs. Redfern's small mouth made a sudden grimace. 
"I must act as I see to act. If this is a shrine, it should 
be a shrine to something. I will not let them do this 
wrong to you. So I warn you, and you must get 
away." 
     "Yes," said Alice, her heart racing. "I will get away. 
Thank you." 
     "But where will you go?" The old lady was 
suddenly tremulous. "Will you go to the police, 
Alice?" 
     "Not now," said Alice slowly. "I must act as I see 
to act." 
     "Yes," said Mrs. Redfern. "Yes. Will you go to 
Tony?" 
     "I will be in touch with Tony," said Alice, gently. 
     "Have you money? I have no cash. A check, 
perhaps?" 
     "I don't need it, ma'am. Thank you. I have five 
dollars." 
     The old lady's eyes showed dismay. 
     "I will be all right," said Alice. "I have been... in 
the world. By myself..." 
     "But child..." 
     "I will manage," said Alice, firmly. 
     "Will you go soon, then? They are at dinner. A 
half hour, the doctor said. Ellen was to watch you." 

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     "I will go now." 
     "But where?" 
     "You had better not know," said Alice grimly. 
     "Wicked!" said the old lady. "Medieval! It makes 
me think of the rack. But worse ­ to take away your 
very wits! To rob your memory! What becomes of a 
decent privacy? Or choice? Or your human being? I 
agree about your rights, Alice. Whatever you have 
done, you shall have your rights." 
     "Thank you... for all this." 
     "I warned you because I despise their plan." Now 
the old lady trembled again. "I do not know what your 
secret is." 
     "It is not what they think," said Alice, and then 
sadly, "I cannot tell you." 
     "I do not ask to be told." The old lady drew herself 
up. 
     "Alice, whatever your mistake," her voice rang, 
"live it down," she commanded. 
     Alice gasped. "Yes, I... Thank you." 
     The old lady turned. Alice was swift to the door, 
opened it. The old lady went through like a wraith. 
But erect. Soldierly. 
     Alice closed the door. His drugs! His Judas smile! 
Evil! Killer of the body! Raper of the mind! 
     Oh yes, she would go. She would go to save her 
own life. She knew if Dr. Devon had drugged both 
secrets out of her, he would have found a way... She 

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put on her gray suit, took her top coat, her smallest 
case, her five dollars. Tied her shoes to her belt. 
     She would simply vanish. Then surely... please, 
make it so?... they would waste enough time looking 
for her... so Tony could get home safe. And then she 
could tell. 
     She slipped out of the room. The hall was bare. 
Mrs. Redfern's door was shut. Alice crept down the 
circular stairs that came out close, to the front door. 
She could hear a voice, distantly, from the dining 
room. Gregory's, rolling along. 
     She went outside. The light was almost out of the 
sky. She stepped carefully within the shadows. 
Walked the drive. At the gate, she slipped on her 
shoes. She walked the road around the meadow. She 
came into the quiet suburban streets and walked on. 
      
     Half an hour later, Ellen insisted that everything 
had been quiet and that was all she knew. 
     But Alice had vanished. 
     Uncle Gregory was aflame. The doctor, with a grim 
mouth, advised against calling the police quite yet. 
Gregory got on the telephone to Chicago. Tony's 
apartment did not answer. 
     The doctor was ready with more advice. He was 
sure it was not best to call the police tonight. Best not 
to alarm old Mrs. Redfern, either. Best alarm nobody. 
Try Tony in the morning. Meanwhile, the doctor 
himself had certain contacts. He might be able to set 

                           169
 



in motion an especially discreet undercover inquiry. 
He counseled the family to rely on him. The 
misguided girl had run away, but perhaps he could 
find her. 
     Alice had vanished. 
      
     On Friday, early, Gregory talked to Chicago. 
Tony's apartment still did not answer but his office 
did. Oh, Page? Oh yes, he'd got in, late yesterday. 
But he had taken off for Los Angeles by now. 
     Gregory put in a call for Alice's folks in Indiana. 
They thought she was in Los Angeles. When he 
asked if Alice had friends in that city, they said, No, 
she was with some relatives of her husband, and who 
was this, please? Gregory, with a surge of cowardice, 
ducked out of it and hung up. 
     He called Dr. Devon for comfort. Devon had not 
found Alice, either. 
     Alice had vanished. 











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                 CHAPTER 10 

     Mrs. Redfern remained in her bed that Friday. It 
was assumed that the "scene" had been too much for 
her. Hortense did not go near her, but stood about 
like a shuddering ghost. Scandal in the house was too 
much for Hortense. She wasn't enjoying it. 
     It was Bee who tried to serve her great-aunt. A Bee 
curiously subdued. Mrs. Redfern lay secluded, and 
said she wished for nothing. The old lady did not ask 
for Alice. She asked nothing - and told nothing. 
     No one dared tell her that Alice had vanished. 
     Dr. Devon had come in, just before noon, when a 
telegram arrived for Alice. Gregory ripped it open. It 
was from Tony, and announced that he had a plane 
seat for Phoenix and would come on from there as 
best he could. "Train or dog sled." 
     For Gregory, that tore it. He had had enough. If 
Tony were going to be unreachable until some 
undetermined time on Saturday, then Gregory stood 
on his public virtue. He would listen to no more 
words about judicious delay. Gregory called his friend 
Chief Townsend, and told him everything he knew. 


                            171
 



     Townsend listened with professional calm. He was 
reassuring. He would talk to the right officers. He 
would try to keep it out of the papers. The police 
would find Alice Hansen Page, aged twenty, five feet 
four, dark hair, blue-gray eyes, personable.... 
     Who had vanished. 
     Gregory felt better. Dr. Devon said he felt better, 
too. He looked drawn. 
      
     Friday; Mexico. Tony loafed the day away. Damn 
this job. Slow. He thought of his darling, his Alice, 
waiting alone in Chicago. Grave Alice, whom he 
loved. 
      
     Friday, at five P.M., the phone rang and Hortense 
answered. A man was asking for Tony Page. 
Hortense said she was sorry, Mr. Page was not here. 
There was no message. 
      
     Saturday. Dr. Devon was on the phone, early, 
asking if Tony had turned up yet. Tony had not. Nor 
had he phoned nor wired. 
     "And where is Tony's Alice?" roared Uncle Greg. 
"That's what I am going to have to answer when 
Tony gets here. The police can't find her. You can't 
find her. Or can you?" 
     "Not yet, I'm afraid." 


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     "You realize," said Greg in a quickly hushed voice, 
"that this... killer may have reason to find Alice?" 
     "How could the killer find her," soothed the doctor, 
"if we can't? What do the police say?" 
     "Don't you know?" said Gregory, rather crossly. 
"Well, the police found somebody who saw a girl in 
gray, on foot, in that neighborhood, around twelve 
noon. Peele found his mother around noon, didn't 
he?" 
     "Um," said the doctor. "Yes, I believe he did." 
     "Alice knows something about that killing. Only 
thing I can think of now... Alice must be frightened. 
She's got in touch with Tony, somehow, and they are 
together." 
     "I hadn't thought of that," the doctor said. "I 
suppose that's possible." 
     "He's overdue," said Gregory. "Somebody 
expected him to be in this house at five o'clock last 
night." 
     "Who was that?" 
     "Phone call. Some man. I am only praying that 
Tony will turn up soon and that he'll have Alice with 
him." 
     "I certainly hope so," said Dr. Devon. "Will you let 
me know?" 
     "Yes, but it seems to me," said Gregory, "we didn't 
handle that girl quite right, Walter. We antagonized 
her." 

                            173
 



     "I wonder how?" the doctor murmured. "Well, let 
me know." 
     The doctor hung up and dialed with an angry 
finger. "Listen," he said, "what is this? Here's a girl, 
barely twenty years old, a child, no friends, no 
money. What's the matter that you can't turn her 
up?" 
     "We got no angle, Doc. We ain't the cops and this 
is a big town. Some kind of places we don't..." 
     "Find her," snapped the doctor. "And while you're 
about it, get a check on Page, will you? Try Phoenix. I 
want to know whether he ever actually went through 
Phoenix at all." 
      
     Saturday, promptly at five P.M., a man's voice on 
the Redfern telephone asked for Tony Page. 
     "Who is this?" barked Gregory. 
     "Is Mr. Page there?" 
     "No, he is not. Do you know where he is?" 
     The party hung up. Gregory held his head. Chief 
Townsend had told him, regretfully, that the papers 
had the story. They'd print it in the morning. 
      
     When Bee took Mrs. Redfern her light supper on a 
tray the old lady's face looked fallen in, skeletonized. 
     "Do you feel any better, Aunt Geraldine?" 
     "I am tired, Beatrice." 

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     She did not ask for Alice. Or for Tony. Or anyone. 
Bee said no more, but crept away. 
      
     Saturday; Mexico. At five P.M., Big Frank 
summoned Tony to him. Tony went ­ not without a 
flash of apprehension. This could be good. Or very 
bad. But Big Frank was cordial. They spoke of many 
things, and none of them to do with narcotics. At last 
Big Frank said that Tony might try calling a certain 
phone number when he got to Los Angeles. Tony 
grinned and said he might. Discretion and 
psychological groundwork had paid off as much as 
it was going to pay. Tony knew Big Frank had gone 
as far as he was going to go. 
      
     Sunday; afternoon. Somebody hailed a young man 
as he walked through the gate at Los Angeles 
International Airport. "Tony! Hey, Tony Page!" 
     "Herb Innes! Well, well..." Tony stopped and 
shook hands. "Give me a minute to call Chicago?" 
     "She's not in Chicago." 
     "What?" 
     "She's vanished." Tony put pincers on the man's 
arm. "Now, talk." 
     "She never did come on to Chicago. What we 
know... she walked out of your grandmother's house 
last Thursday, around seven P.M. She seems to be 
mixed up in a homicide." Innes waved a piece of 

                           175
 



newspaper at him. "So the police are looking... we are 
looking... and we have reason to think some 
unsavory characters are also looking for your Alice." 
     Tony was tingling with shock. "Homicide? How?" 
     Innes said, "A witness, maybe." 
     "Where is Alice?" Tony looked frantically on all 
sides. 
     "You find out. You go get the family inside view on 
this disappearance." 
     "You got a car?" 
     Innes had a department car, with a two-way radio 
connection. After a while, he said to Tony's grim 
face, "Get what you went after?" 
     "I got a way to him." 
     "To Devon?" 
     "Dunno. To whoever. I got a phone number. Inside 
the operation. Somebody else will have to climb that 
ladder. Not me." 
     "We'll get somebody on it," Innes said gloomily. 
"That'll take time." 
     "Yep." Tony was stoical. 
     "Let me give the Old Man that number." Innes took 
the mouthpiece off the hook. 
     "You do that," Tony said. "And tell the Old Man 
that I'll see him after I find Alice. Not before." 
     Tony went into his grandmother's house, alone. 
He was received with exclamations of relief, but these 

                               176
 



beat against his unsmiling face like surf against a wall. 
"Where is Alice?" he asked them, abruptly. 
     This sent Uncle Greg into exposition. He made a 
tale of Alice's mysterious doings. The death of Mrs. 
Peele. Their efforts. But Uncle Gregory's tongue was 
not itself. When he got to the last part, it went lamely, 
but she had gone." 
     "...upset for you, Tony," said Hortense piously. 
"And for Aunt Geraldine. So terrible! It's in the 
paper!" 
     "You know what it's about," said Bee 
challengingly. 
     Tony, who knew the secret, could guess what the 
blackmail had been about. Oh, my poor Alice, he 
groaned to himself. The cleaning woman! "She was 
just gone?" he said. "Before you could manage to 
drug her and drag her to some hospital?" 
     "But we simply..." 
     Ellen said, "Mrs. Redfern wants you, Mr. Tony." 
     "Gran? Where is she?" 
     "She's in her bed. We haven't told her. Tony, 
don't..." 
     Tony was bounding up the stairs. 
      
     His grandmother's tiny hands clung to his. "She 
had so little money, Tony. But she was very 
confident. She said she could manage. I couldn't 


                            177
 



permit them to do that, could I? I had to send her 
away." 
     "Good you did." Tony broke into his first smile. 
"The rest of them don't know you did that, Gran?" 
     "I chose not to tell them," his grandmother said 
with a touch of hauteur. 
     "You don't know where she is?" 
     "She said she'd be in touch with you." 
     Tony looked grim again. 
     "Someone," said his grandmother, "has been 
trying to get in touch with you on the telephone. 
Every day, at five o'clock." She sat higher. "They 
think," she said, "that I am content to lie here, so long 
as I am safe and I am comfortable. They think I am 
content to be ignorant, lest I be `upset.' But I know 
what is going on in my house.  Ellen tells me.  It is 
sometimes necessary..." 
     "To lie low and keep quiet?" finished Tony with 
perfect understanding. "Sure it is, Gran... Every day, 
you say?" 
     "The phone? Yes, Friday. Then yesterday, again. I 
have wondered..." 
     "I think I'll wait." 
     "Tony, I am ashamed... I see I have let things slide 
in this house. Alice called it a shrine." 
     "Alice..." Tony swallowed. "I'll do better if I don't 
talk about her. I'll think better how to find her." 


                              178
 



     "I believe," said Mrs. Redfern calmly, in a moment, 
"that she will manage." 
     "I... think so, too. I think so." 
     They held each other's hands. 
      
     Tony came downstairs just before five o'clock. He 
was in the hall as Ellen let in Dr. Devon. The doctor 
held out his hand. His smile was full of sympathy. 
     Tony said, "I don't think I want to talk to you. 
Excuse me." He turned his back; he sat down beside 
the phone. 
     The doctor said, in a forgiving voice, "I 
understand." He took Greg into the big room where 
he spoke comfortingly. But he was listening, too. 
     At five o'clock, the phone rang. 
     "Is Mr. Tony Page there?" Man's voice. 
     "Speaking," said Tony. "Who is this ?" 
     There was a kind of scuffle at the other end and 
then there was Alice. "Tony?" 
     He said, "Where are you?" 
     She told him. 
     "Coming." He hung up. 
     "What was that?" Gregory got no answer. Tony 
brushed by Aunt Hortense. He said to Cousin Bee, 
"Give me your car  keys." She pointed to a table 
drawer. Tony took the keys and went out the door. 
     The doctor said, "If you will excuse me..." 

                              179
 



     "You think that was Alice?" 
     "I have no idea." The doctor looked and sounded a 
trifle hurt. "I have an appointment. If you'll excuse 
me." 
      
     Tony saw the yellow car behind him. He grimaced. 
He wasted no time, but it took fifty minutes across the 
car-choked city. He pulled up at a red curb and to 
heck with a ticket. Tony grinned up at the façade. 
     Ziegler's Drugs. 
     The place was filled with light, and shining wares. 
At the back, a little clerk in white was wrapping a 
woman's purchases. Medicine and a lipstick. Trouble 
and dreams. Alice knew all about working in a 
drugstore, among the drugs that blessed mankind. 
She lifted her sweet grave face and saw him before he 
made a sound. The radiance broke upon the face. 
     Then it seemed that this customer embraced this 
clerk and this clerk wept into this customers coat for 
just a mo ment, because waiting, hiding, hoping, 
fearing, hadn't been easy. But then she tumbled out 
the whole story while he held her. 
     "Devon," said Tony. "I was getting sure. He's 
followed me. He's right outside." 
     "Tony, I couldn't tell! I didn't know your Old 
Man's name. So I  haven't told. He knows that. Will 
he try to kill us both?" 



                             180
 



     "I'm sure he'd like to." Tony sounded bemused. 
His right hand touched her cheek in love and wonder. 
     "Tony, is he going to?" She had a look of reckless 
willingness. 
     "Nope," said Tony. "Because this wonderful 
drugstore of yours has got a phone booth." 
     He swung her around and stuffed her in and put 
his own body between her and any evil thing. He 
dialed the Old Man's number. "No point, after we 
tell," he explained to Alice. "So now we tell." 
     "Devon's your man," he said into the phone. "He 
tried to beat information out of that Peele woman. 
Gave himself away. Threw her downstairs. My wife 
was there. She's your witness. He's your man." 
     "Homicide, too, eh? Fine! Fine!" 
     "Maybe not so fine. He's outside now. We are..." 
     "We know. Innes trailed you both. Sit tight. Hang 
on. We'll buzz Innes..." 
     Alice breathed in the reality of Tony-alive and 
Tony-here. She didn't much care about anything else 
at the moment. 
     "Innes thinks Devon's seen he's had it," said the 
voice on the phone. "Innes will try to close in. A car's 
on the way." 
     "Anything for me to do?" 
     "You armed?" 
     "No." 


                             181
 



     "Is he?" 
     "Don't know." 
     "You keep well back in that drugstore." 
     "Yes, sir." 
     "And by the way, congratulations." 
     "I accept, on behalf of my wife," said Tony. 
     "Right," said the voice, amiably. "Kiss her for all of 
us." Tony hung up and kissed her for himself. 
      
     The pharmacist was outside the glass door, now, 
looking troubled. Tony came out. Alice came out and 
introduced her husband. "The one you've been 
calling for me, Mr. Ziegler." 
     "You said it was a man who owes you money." 
     "Well, I was just lying," said Alice cheerfully. 
"And I'll have to resign, now, Mr. Ziegler. And I'll 
thank you forever more." 
     The pharmacist began to look stricken. How not? 
thought Tony, if he is losing Alice. He watched her 
sparkling face, but his ears were checking on the 
street. He was by no means sure that Devon "had 
seen he'd had it." There was the risk that a reckless 
fury would yet send violence into this bright place. 
So Tony kept two pyramids of brilliant packages, and 
himself, between the street and Alice. Then he heard 
some kind of thud out there. 
      


                             182
 



     People on the street saw a man get out of the 
yellow car. Instead of coming to argue with the driver 
of the black car that had swerved so stupidly into his 
path, the man turned away. 
     The driver of the black car called, "Stop!" 
     Dr. Devon did not stop. 
     So Herb Innes stopped him, very neatly, as he had 
been taught to do, with a bullet near the knee. 
     A siren wailed. A police car came. 
      
     By the time they drove Bee's car into the grounds, 
it was long after dinner. There had been talking to do. 
Alice must have a lawyer. She was 
accessory-after-the-fact, in a way. Nobody thought 
she'd have any real trouble. Tony was alive. And 
back in the building business. Devon was in the 
prison ward of the hospital. He would betray no more. 
And the job of catching him had been quickly done. 
     As the car stopped, Alice cast a pleading glance 
up at Tony's face. "Try to remember how it must have 
seemed to them." 
     Tony didn't reply. 
     Ellen opened the door. "Oh, Mr. Tony! Oh... Mrs. 
Page!" 
     In the big room, they would have this minute to 
brace themselves. Tony took her there, in the tight 
shelter of his arm. 


                            183
 



     There they were, Gregory and the ladies, along the 
margin of the great rug. It seemed to Alice that every 
one of them spoke her name. 
     "How did you find her? Do the  police know 
you've found her?" Uncle Gregory was filled with 
civic virtue. 
     "The police know all about Alice," Tony said. 
     "Do they know her secret?" This was Hortense. 
     "Oh , yes." 
     "You know," said Bee, flatly. 
     "Sure, I know. I gave it to her." 
     Alice said, "I am very sorry that I had to be so 
much trouble in this house. I couldn't exactly help it. I 
hope you are all going to forgive me." 
     "I would like to understand," said Gregory, stiffly. 
     "Well," said Tony, "it's fairly simple. Alice made a 
promise. Does that mean anything to you? She 
promised. She gave me her word. Just as Hortense 
promised not to fuss about some earrings. Just as Bee 
promised not to mention a birthday. Just as you 
promised not to get Alice into a chess game." 
     "What on earth," exploded Uncle Greg, "is so 
important about a chess game?" 
     "Or  a promise?" said Tony, and his cold wrath 
went around. 
     "Now you are angry," said Hortense, "and you 
have no right..." 


                             184
 



     "Alice asks me not to be angry," Tony said. "Alice 
asks me to remember how it must have seemed to 
you." 
     "Promised what?" screeched Hortense. "Promised 
what?" 
     Tony said cruelly, "I'd like to keep it a secret." 
     "Oh, please," said Alice, "they said we needn't. It 
was just that I'd promised not to tell where Tony 
really was. It got difficult. And I made a lot of 
mistakes. I told lies. I  made  you suspicious of me. I 
didn't do it very well." 
     "She did it well enough to save my life," said Tony, 
"until Gran had to save both of us." 
     "Your life!" 
     "Right. I was after a criminal. Well, we got him." 
     "A criminal? What kind of criminal?" Greg was 
aflame. 
     "Oh, the dirtiest kind," said Tony. "In the narcotics 
trade. A killer, too. Oh, he's a bird, he is!" 
     "But why couldn't Alice tell us where you were?" 
     "Because the criminal was in and out of this house. 
And if he'd known, he'd have fixed me. He also would 
have fixed Alice, as it turned out." 
     Their faces were comical, thought Alice, and it was 
very sad, too. "I'm sorry," she said. "Nobody could 
help it. After Mrs. Peele found out, you see, I just had 
to bribe her. Pretend she was a friend. Give her things. 
I couldn't tell you." 

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     Bee said, with a fearful wag of her dark eyes, "A 
criminal?" 
     "Oh, we got him," Tony said. "Devon's under 
arrest. Bullet in his leg, too." Tony sounded rather 
pleased about the bullet. 
     "Walter Devon! Narcotics! A killer!" Gregory was 
working his mouth like a rabbit's. Bee alone did not 
look surprised. 
     "Sure enough," said Tony cheerfully. "He killed 
Mrs. Peele, trying to pry the secret out of her. Alice 
was there." 
     Gregory said, after a stunned moment, "But Alice 
should have told us." 
     "Should she?" said Tony, and the big room held 
no sound. 
     "Well, we've got to hang around awhile," said 
Tony in a moment. "Purposes of the law, and all that. 
But we're going to La Jolla tonight. For a week. Alice 
has had an awful time." 
     "Oh, so have they," murmured Alice. She thought 
Bee looked ghastly. 
     Mrs. Redfern said in a threadlike voice, "Tony, will 
you do something for me in La Jolla?" 
     "Of course, Gran." He didn't like the look of her, 
suddenly. "Gran, do you realize that you really did 
save us both? If Devon had drugged Alice last 
Thursday night and I was still out of the country if 
you hadn't sent Alice away..." 

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     The Staffords were dumb. 
     The old lady nodded as if' murder and escape from 
murder were quite within her ken. "I never cared for 
Walter Devon." Her voice strengthened. "Or  ­ 
especially ­ for some of his modern ways." Her head 
was high. "I'd like you to look into a place in La Jolla 
for elderly people of some means." 
     The room felt shock. The house felt it. 
     "I'll do anything you say," said Tony gently. 
     "Look at us," said his grandmother, "huddled 
around the rug. I shall sell this enormous 
unnecessary house." 
     Hortense was stricken. "Aunt Geraldine! No... 
aaah, no! You couldn't bear a `place.'" 
     "Why not?" said the old lady coolly. "It seems that 
other elderly people find themselves quite 
comfortable. Do you think I am afraid of the world?" 
     "What about the real estate?" said Uncle Gregory 
compulsively. Then he had the grace to flush. "I... 
sorry." He looked around the room as if to catch a 
glimpse of it before it vanished. 
     Now Bee stood up and stretched out her arms and 
looked at her hands which trembled. "A criminal?" 
she said bitterly. "The only one who understood 
me?" 
     "I understand you," said Mrs. Redfern crisply, 
"quite well. I know, for instance, that you've been 
turning and twisting for two days because your good 

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taste alone... your sense of art, perhaps... had 
already told you there was something wrong about 
that man." Bee stared at her great-aunt. "My poor 
Beatrice," said Mrs. Redfern, "you grew up in a 
shrine. You were not allowed to be young. Since that 
man's talked to you, you've turned and twisted... 
haven't you?... and wished you were not so devoted 
to me? My dear girl, you are not. You never were. It 
will do you good to have no one to blame for 
anything. Neither he nor I. Go free and stand up," 
commanded the old lady. "You cannot love anyone, 
you see, until you do." 
     Bee ran out of the room. 
     "Bee isn't well," began Hortense nervously. 
     "She'll learn to manage," said Mrs. Redfern confi-
dently. "You and Gregory will manage. I shall manage. 
Alice?" 
     "Yes, ma'am?" Alice detached herself from Tony 
and went over to the chair. "Yes, Gran?" she said 
affectionately. 
     "In a small box on my dresser," said the dulcet 
arrogant voice, "you will find your earrings." 
     "Yes, Gran. Thank you." 
     Alice found in the old lady's eyes no 
condescension, no sentimental smile. It was 
something strong that spoke... some toughness that 
communicated with its counterpart. 
     "I am glad," said Tony's grandmother, "they have 
come down to a young person of quality." 

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                 THE END 
                      
          of a Crest Reprint by 
          Charlotte Armstrong 
      
      






















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