The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

friendliness of Sergeant Brown, of Philippine, of Thane Carey and, above all, of Peter. And then she wished that she hadn’t thought of Peter because to think of him increased her loneliness. Why had he stayed away so long? That night on the porch—was it only Friday?—now seemed an eternity of time away. Of course he hadn’t promised to come in and, of course, he and Thane must be frantic with Margie’s illness and the dead-end feeling he’d confessed to. He couldn’t really suspect Fredericka, herself. That was madness. Why, he had said that she had helped him. Could that be true or was she now reaching for any little straw that she could cling to?
    She returned with determination to the refrigerator but the salad concocted from leftovers was tasteless and she was conscious of the heat and the smell of frying that must have clung to the room since Sergeant Brown’s breakfast. Then she remembered that he had discovered a ventilator and went to turn it on. The loud whirring noise was, at first, irritating, and then comforting, because it forbade all thought. She finished her lunch and decided to retreat to the orchard as she had promised Sergeant Brown. Perhaps this afternoon she would be able to substitute writing for sleeping. She looked up at the clock and saw Peter Mohun standing in the doorway.
    She stared at him blankly as he came in and snapped off the ventilator fan. “Good God!” he said. “Anyone could shoot you and no one hear a sound above that damn thing. I was determined this time to announce my arrival and I’ve been banging on the front door for a good ten minutes. You scared the wits out of me—you and your blasted fan.”
    He sounded really annoyed, a fact which gave Fredericka some unexpected pleasure, but before she could think of anything to say he asked, “Where’s Jim?”
    “Jim? Oh, you mean Sergeant Brown. He’s—he’s—”
    “Come clean, Fredericka.” He paused, then went on rapidly, “Never mind, I can guess. You let him off for the day, didn’t you?”
    “Well, yes, I did. As a matter of fact, I’ve been suffering from a guilty conscience, having given the wretched young man precious little thought all week.”
    “You’re not supposed to think about him. He’s Thane’s business, not yours.”
    “But I’ve discovered that he’s a very nice young man, with human feelings just like yours and mine—oh, Peter, don’t scold me. I’ve been sick about how I treated Margie. I’ve got to make up for it somehow.”
    Peter smiled at her. Then he pulled out the other chair from the table and sat down.
    “Wouldn’t you rather go outside?” Fredericka asked.
    “No. I’m afraid I can’t stay. As a matter of fact, Carey’s dropping by any minute to drive me to the airport.”
    “The airport?” Fredericka found it hard to hide her distress.
    “Yes. I am going to Washington, there’s no getting out of it. I can’t tell you more now because, for one thing, there isn’t time, and for another, it isn’t wise. But you must listen to me. You are not to do any more New England conscience acts of kindness to Jim Brown or anyone else. If all goes as I think it’s going to, then he and the rest of us can return to our normal lives very soon. Until then we’re not going to take any chances.” He reached across the table and took her thin shoulder in his large hand. “Look at me,” he said severely.
    With some difficulty Fredericka managed to do as he ordered. “Now,” he continued, “I can tell you this much. Your news about Chris’s possible information and about that letter have proved to be pure gold. You are the best Dr. Watson any man could want.”
    “Did you find the letter then?”
    “No. It had disappeared. And it was too late to ask Margie—poor kid. But Chris, bless him, had some old envelopes Catherine had given him before. He hadn’t got around to taking the stamps off and so I found the address I wanted. That’s why I’m going to Washington—”
    “But—Peter—” There were a thousand questions Fredericka wanted to ask but he held up his hand.
    “I’ll tell you all when I know all, Fredericka. Right now you mustn’t know anything, not even what you’ve told me and what I’ve told you. Keep it absolutely to yourself. You understand?”
    “Yes. But—”
    “No ‘buts’ about it.”
    The sound of a car outside and steps on the path interrupted him and Fredericka’s mind leapt suddenly to another quite different subject.