Gregory could feel the cold wetness of perspiration on his forehead, and he drew in his breath in a long, choking gasp. His legs were numb and stiff under him. He took an uncertain step forward and then another, watching the gray coupé. There was no movement inside it, and he reached out with groping fingers, found the door handle and turned it.
The driver was a small, limp bundle huddled down in the corner of the seat.
“Anne Bentley,” Gregory said in a voice that sounded hoarsely strange to himself.
She looked up at him. Her brown eyes were widened abnormally, slick with a glassy, haunted horror.
“I killed him. I heard — when it hit. That sound. I saw him falling, kicking...”
“You saved my life,” said Gregory gently. “You were following us?”
She nodded stiffly. “Yes. I was coming into the garden, when I saw him hold you up. I followed, and when I saw the car, I ran back and got this one. I use it to shop for the estate. I drove — watching your lights...”
“Thank you for that, Anne Bentley,” Gregory said. “I won’t forget it.”
“I saw you and him standing here. I saw the gun. I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I had to—”
“You had to do what you did,” said Gregory. “It’s something you’ll never regret, I promise you that.”
“Who was he?”
Gregory stared at her. “Don’t you know?”
She shook her head. “No. I had never — seen him. I just saw his face when I hit—” She sobbed once in a sudden racking gasp.
“But listen to me,” said Gregory. “You said something in Mrs. Van Tellen’s room, something about someone who was torturing her. I thought this man Carter must be the one. Must be some way concerned with it. I never saw him before in my life either.”
“Carter?” she repeated. “I never heard that name. There’s been no one by that name around the house.”
“Well, who was torturing Mrs. Van Tellen?” Gregory asked. “You did say something about that.”
“I don’t know. I tried to find out. I wanted to protect her, help her. It was mental torture. Little nasty things that kept happening to make her feel bad. The last was her dog. They stole that, I know. They knew how she loved it, how badly it would make her feel.”
“But why?” Gregory said.
“I don’t know. I tried to find out. But there was nothing, nothing definite. But everyone in the house was always watching her, making fun of her, remarking about the queer things she did and said. They were always hinting about insanity.”
“Was Mrs. Van Tellen insane?” Gregory asked.
“No! No! She was not! They twisted the things she said and did and misinterpreted them to make them sound queer!”
“I know,” said Gregory. “I know how easily that can be done.”
“She was kind. She tried so hard to do what was right for everyone. She tried so hard to understand the way they acted.” Anne Bentley’s voice choked suddenly. “So hard. She was just an old woman, alone and bewildered. I wanted to help her, but... but now...”
“Now?” Gregory said softly.
“They’ll send me back.” Her voice was dull and low and hopeless.
“Send you back?” Gregory repeated. “Send you back where?”
She watched him for a long moment. “I’ll have to tell you. You’ll know soon enough anyway. I’m out on parole.”
Gregory stared incredulously. “You mean—”
She nodded mechanically. “Yes. I was paroled from the State Prison for Women just seven months ago. I was paroled to the custody of Mrs. Van Tellen. You see, her husband was arrested for hitting a man with a beer bottle in a drunken brawl. My trial came up just before his. I was accused of shoplifting. Mrs. Van Tellen saw me in the court-room and she heard the trial.”
“Yes?” Gregory said. “And then?”
“That was before Mrs. Van Tellen had any money. But she remembered. And when she did get her brother’s fortune, she arranged for me to be paroled to her custody. She... she thought that I wasn’t guilty.”
“Then I think so, too,” said Gregory, “I’m sure you—”
Her hands twisted together tensely, “Thank you for saying that But I was guilty. I told Mrs. Van Tellen. You see, I was raised in an orphanage. I was adopted by a couple who lived on a farm. They wanted a servant, not a child. I couldn’t stand it with them. I ran away. I was all alone in the city. I had no money — only one shabby house dress. I stole a dress from a store. I thought if I could look well, I could get work. I meant to pay for it! I really did!”
“I know that,” said Gregory. “And it’s all past now, and gone.”
“No!” she said tensely. “No, it isn’t! Don’t you see? That’s why I was afraid of the police. They’ll find out I’m a — a convict. They’ll never look further for the murderer as soon as they know that.”
“They will,” said Gregory. “Because I’ll see that they do.”
“But even then I’ll have to go back. Because I was paroled to Mrs. Van Tellen. And she’s... she’s gone.”
“They’ll never send you back,” said Gregory. “Do you hear that? They’ll never take you back again. I swear that.”
She looked up. “You’ll help — me?”
Gregory smiled, and the steely lights were gone from his eyes, and they were warm and understanding and sympathetic.
“You’ve lost one friend today,” said Gregory. “But you’ve found another. Now listen to me. I think it best that you don’t make an appearance at the house until I can go back and see just what has been happening. Here’s my card. The address is on it. My office adjoins my house, and the waiting-room is never closed at any time. It will be open now. You go there and wait for me. Will you do that?”
Anne Bentley took the card unhesitatingly. “Yes.” She stared at him for a long moment. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper.
Doctor Gregory drove the big black sedan around the smooth curve of the white graveled drive and stopped it near the side entrance of the Van Tellen house. He was fumbling for the door catch when there was a sudden incoherent shout, and a thick figure came running headlong across the dark sweep of the lawn.
“Hey, you! What in the hell do you think—”
It was the boatman who had brought Gregory across the bay. Floyd, Dan-born had called him. He dug his heels into the gravel and stopped short, staring at Gregory.
“Well?” said Gregory.
Floyd drew in a long, deep breath. “Doc,” he said, swallowing. “You kinda stop me. Are you really as screwy as you act?”
“Just what are you talking about?” Gregory asked.
“Well, look. I hear some screechin’ up here, and I come up and find the old lady is dead. Murdered, they tell me. And everybody’s goin’ nuts lookin’ for you. And now here I find you takin’ a nice leisurely tour of the estate. Don’t you ever tend to your business?”
“I’m better able to judge what my business is than you are,” Gregory said evenly, getting out of the car.
“I dunno,” said Floyd. “I really dunno about that, Doc. Did you ever think of havin’ your mind examined?”
Gregory ignored him. He walked up the steps to the flat porch. He turned around to look back as he opened the door. Floyd was still standing beside the car, staring after Gregory and shaking his head slowly and incredulously.
The upper hall was bright with light when Gregory came up the stairs. There was no one in sight but a uniformed policeman lounging against the wall beside the door of Mrs. Van Tellen’s bedroom. He straightened up when Gregory appeared.
“Oh, hello, Doc!” he greeted. “Where you been? Everybody’s been lookin’ all over hell for you.”