The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

answer. She smiled tiredly and then turned sideways on the pillow and shut her eyes. Fredericka felt for her crutch and left the room as quietly as she could. But when she reached the door, she turned back to see that the woman in the bed had opened her eyes and was smiling again. “Fredericka,” she said firmly, “if Peter hasn’t given you that message from my tussie-mussie, he must. You see that he does—and,” she hesitated, “you follow its advice.”
    As Fredericka limped back to her room, she too was smiling. She’d forgotten all about that tussie-mussie.
    “What’s the joke?” Peter asked, rising from her only chair. “And where in thunder have you been?”
    “Visiting Margaret Sutton, and the joke is private—for the moment.”
    “I’m a sleuth—you forget. You can’t keep a secret from P. Mohun, Spycatcher. Just let that be a warning to you.”
    On the way out, Peter said seriously, “How was Margaret?”
    “All right, I think. I do admire her, Peter.”
    “You’ve reason to.” He was silent for a moment and then he went on slowly, “You know I think she knew about Philippine from the first and I think she forgave her for killing Catherine—her own daughter. But Margaret believes in man’s natural goodness and she didn’t realize what can happen when human beings become killers.”
    “If that is true, then she must blame herself for Margie’s death. She was distressed about me, too.”
    “Well, even at her age, we live and learn.”
    “But I’d hate her to unlearn that belief in inherent goodness.”
    “In some ways I think it may be strengthened.”
    “Yes. I see what you mean,” Fredericka said slowly. “Shadow strengthens light, I suppose. But the price was high.”
    “Yes. Too high,” Peter answered and then as if he couldn’t bear the subject any longer he said quickly: “Did you like my murders?”
    “Not as much as I hoped. I’m a changed woman, Peter.”
    “Are you telling me?” Peter laughed. “Well, here we are and you haven’t said a word about my brand-new Ford.”
    “Oh Peter. It’s beautiful. I—I just didn’t think.”
    “Well, I’ll forgive you.”
    He stopped the car but before he got out he patted her nearest knee affectionately. He laughed suddenly. “I’m awfully pleased with you, Fredericka. Not just your recovery but, well, you have grown up, haven’t you? Or perhaps I mean grown down.”
    He got out and lifted the invalid from the car. Then he took her free hand, ostensibly to help her, as they walked up the path to the bookshop.
    * * * *
    A thunderstorm flashed across the valley while they were eating their supper. “I can’t decide what weather I like best from our window, Connie,” Thane said. “This is superb, but rather like a backdrop to Macbeth and I’d rather we’d left all that behind us. Summer afternoon’s better perhaps, especially at sunset.”
    “I’ve had summer night and stars,” Fredericka said, “and I’ll not soon forget it.”
    “Stop burbling,” Peter said, laughing. “If we had a dictaphone and you could hear back what you’ve been saying, I think you’d agree that it would make a beautiful page for one of your scribblers, Fredericka—Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, shall we say?”
    “Oh Peter, you beast,” Connie said, getting up to clear away the dishes. “You like this house just as much as we do. You are, in fact, jealous. Besides you just can’t wait to do your little Sherlock Holmes act. End of the chapter and all that.”
    “How intuitive you are, my dear Connie. But to show you I’m a man of iron, I’ll dry the dishes for you first.”
    “You’ll have to, as penance.”
    They departed together into the kitchen and Thane and Fredericka watched the storm roll away and the stars come out one by one.
    “I do love this place,” Fredericka said simply.
    “Do you mean this place or do you mean the village of South Sutton lying out there for your inspection?”
    “Both,” Fredericka answered quickly.
    “You’re not going to run out on us then, in spite of everything?”
    “No. Oh no. Not until I have to. And it’s not in spite of everything—it’s well, almost because of it,” Fredericka answered, thinking of her conversation with Peter that afternoon.
    Thane made no answer. He lit a cigarette for Fredericka, then his own pipe and puffed at it quietly until Connie and Peter came back.
    “Now,” Peter announced.
    “Speech, speech,” Thane muttered without taking his