Popular Detective, July, 1948

  IT IS quiet now. The quivering hush of Columbia. Romance had no part in my

  country twilight. Here on the porch, I jot plans. There was no time.

  down these notes by the light streaking I should have known, I suppose.

  through the window from inside the house.

  Elemental force is always mathematically There are only the two of us, alone

  stronger than the individual struggling in this lodge of mine, this retreat from the against it.

  sounds of the city, from the world of

  It was so natural—almost

  hurrying people and grinding machines.

  inevitable— my meeting with Iris, Dr.

  Only the two of us, sitting here in silence, Haley’s young and lovely wife. I knew

  each lost in his own small thoughts, his that, of course. We were working together, own trivial terror.

  Haley and I, on my latest experiment. He It is strange I should have had a

  had asked me to supper, to dine with them.

  love affair. The young scientist, I was, A tall, ponderous man, Dr. Haley.

  devoted to my research in the laboratory at By the thinning, grayish mop of hair, the

  Popular Detective

  2

  drawn lines of his face I put him in his I gazed a moment, bewildered.

  sixties at least. She was in her early Then I nodded. She smiled, that thirties.

  bewitching little smile, and turned to the

  “Iris,” Haley was saying, “here’s

  others again.

  Bob Thorne. You’ve heard me speak of

  It was a magic thing, this romance

  him.”

  of ours. A thing of trembling, stolen

  I had never seen anyone quite like

  moments. But it was evil, too. Always

  her, anyone so close to the essence of with us was the nightmare fear of

  femininity. A Dresden doll which by some discovery, of smashing the world of this miracle of science had been given the man she pretended to love, this man with spark of life and blood in its porcelain whom I worked, whose friendship I

  veins.

  claimed.

  I scarcely heard Haley as he made

  Always the guilt, as he and I

  the introductions. I was looking at her, worked together. Always sickening shame drinking in loveliness, the spell of at his praise.

  innocent blue eyes with their secret,

  “Magnificent, Thorne!” His words

  wordless search for excitement.

  boomed out as he read some report of

  It was insanity, I admit. Yet it mine. “We’ve made progress. We will seemed we both knew. It seemed she had have the answer soon.”

  to know, as well as I.

  Then he was going away. She told

  I watched her that evening in the

  me in the afternoon, as we walked

  candlelight of the dining room. There were together, holding hands like kids, in the other guests, faculty members and their park. I thought of the lodge of mine across wives. I was pleased she gave me the place the river in Jersey. She and I had spent one of honor at her right.

  afternoon there, days before.

  “Come with me,” I urged. “The

  SHE was the perfect hostess, with her easy lodge—there’s no one around, no close

  flow of casual chit-chat.

  neighbors, no gossips. We could have this

  “Yes, my dear, we saw the Silver

  time together, just the two of us.”

  Bell only the other night. Splendid. Except I looked into her face. I could read

  Dorothy Hammond does overplay, don’t

  desire in those blue eyes. I wanted to take you think? . . . Have you seen it, Mrs.

  her into my arms and hold her.

  Whiting? I’m sure you’d enjoy—”

  “If I can, dear,” she whispered.

  Yet there was something in her “Call me at five—I’ll let you know. He tone, even in these meaningless words of won’t be in until six.”

  polite conversation. I said little during that When I called, she sounded gay,

  dinner. My eyes hardly left her. Except for full of laughter.

  one brief, searching glance, she gave no

  “I may be a little delayed. I think

  sign that she realized.

  he’s taking a later train. You—you go on Yet I was right that she knew. out to the lodge. I’ll dine with him, go When we rose from the table, she stood with him to the train. After that, darling-”

  close to me, her eyes looking up into mine.

  She would take the car and drive

  So softly I could hardly hear, she said: out, she said. She knew the way. It would

  “About four tomorrow—at the not be long.

  Cloisters?”

  I was in high spirits as I hung up. I

  Still of the Night

  3

  climbed into my own car, drove across the

  “She’s not coming, Thorne. Not to

  George Washington Bridge, out the main see you or anyone, ever. You see, I came road, turned off the side road to the lodge.

  back without her knowing, and I heard the I wanted to open up the place, to

  call. But then I knew about it anyway. I’ve get a fire started. I thought there was been checking up. Walk backward—

  plenty of time. I thought it would be about toward the porch.”

  nine before she arrived.

  We are sitting here now, he and I.

  But it was much earlier when I

  He agreed I might make these notes, my heard the car coming up the driveway and last scientific report. My palms are wet draw to a stop at the door. Iris must have with sweat. The gun in his hand points at got away early, I decided. I hurried to my heart. I cannot guess at which

  meet her.

  unthinkable second that final blast will But I was wrong. I heard his voice

  shatter the stillness of the night.

  in the car.

 

 

  Monte Herridge, Still of the Night by Will Oursler

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