The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

a little self-consciously. “And—I guess a bookshop manager can’t help soaking up gossip like a sponge.”
    Roger’s answering laugh was pleasant and genuine but he stood up suddenly. “I’m sorry but I must go now. I—I can’t sit still for long.”
    “I’m sorry, too,” Fredericka said, and meant it.
    “You’ve been kind,” Roger said. “I don’t know when I’ve talked as much as this to—to anyone—except mother and Philippine.” He stopped abruptly. Then as he jumped down from the rock he turned to say fiercely, “Everything was just beginning to get right. And then Catherine had to come home—”
    The bitterness and hatred in his voice startled Fredericka, but she sensed that if she was to keep him from dashing off into the forest, like the wild creature he was, she must make herself as emotionless as possible. She said quietly, “Please, may I have one more cigarette before you go?”
    “Of course,” he answered her at once and she noticed with relief that the tension of his body relaxed as he spoke. “You must forgive me,” he went on more slowly. “Catherine has made my life a misery from the time we were kids. She was four years older than I and she was a sadist by the time she was ten. She knew all my hidden fears—all my weaknesses—and she hated me because mother loved me in a way she never loved Catherine. It’s the old story, I guess—”
    He stopped, and Fredericka stared at him. A shadow fell across his scarred face as a breeze moved the leaves overhead and, in that instant, Fredericka saw the naked hatred in his eyes and in the set of his jaw. Could this man be the killer of his sister—this man, suffering his own private hell and goaded beyond endurance? Why should he talk to her—Fredericka—a complete stranger—like this, unless he wanted to cover up with a show of honesty. Now she wanted him to go. She stood up, as panic seized her, and then she heard herself say in a voice that was hard and unrecognizable: “I’m surprised you admit these things—now.”
    For a moment Roger stared at Fredericka in his turn and his ugly face became more than ever distorted. He took a step back toward the rock and Fredericka knew that he wanted to strike out at her. But he controlled the mad impulse with an effort that was apparent in every line of his thin body. Then, without a word, he turned away and disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
    The breeze moved again through the branches of the trees and its breath was dank and cold. Fredericka climbed down from the rock and then, fighting a childish impulse to dash to safety, made her way back to the path. But the black demon of her own fear pursued her through the Hansel and Gretel wood until at last she reached the haven afforded by the four walls of Miss Hartwell’s bookshop.
    Chapter 6
    If Fredericka had not been in so compelling a hurry to leave the town for the woods and had turned right instead of left when she crawled through Margie’s foxhole she would have run straight into her friend, Peter Mohun, and James Brewster. They were standing, on that hot Sunday afternoon, at the corner of Spruce Street and the alley, and they were in earnest conversation.
    “Are you really going to build there, Brewster?” Peter asked. He was a little resentful of the fields he was now indicating with a sweep of his right hand. He had been looking for James all morning only to discover him pacing over the great tract of land fronting on this miserable alley. In the search, Peter had missed his lunch and he was now tired, hot and hungry. Moreover, James was still truculent.
    “I can’t think what business it is of yours, Mohun.” James was also hot and tired but he had eaten a large Sunday dinner at the inn and he was not hungry. On the contrary, he was aware that he had eaten too much. He was troubled by indigestion and by his thoughts which were in a state of turmoil.
    “It isn’t my business. But all the town is talking about it so it’s no secret. Better facts than rumours.”
    “I’m sorry not to be more helpful,” James answered sourly. “This town talks too much anyway. And then you and Carey have to go and create scandal that doesn’t exist. You’re a fine one to talk about rumours as against facts.”
    This was better. Peter said quickly: “That’s really what I wanted to talk to you about. Let’s see if we can get a beer at the inn.”
    “There’s nothing more to say after all your fuss last