He laughed, sounded the claxon derisively, once, twice, three times. Sorry for him! And of course it was exactly what was happening. It had been apparent in his last interview with her, she had pressed the point about Kay, she had subsequently tried to discuss the subject with Toppan, and now it was more than ever apparent in her letter. He looked ill, he was not sleeping. There it was, plain as a pikestaff! Accordingly, she would take the initiative, she would be inquisitive, she would want to find out exactly where they stood, both with regard to each other and with regard to Sandbach, and this would render her — in the deepest sense — vulnerable. On this pattern, the scene could be allowed to shape itself. She would question — she would stand there questioning — and he would simply be. We ask and ask — thou smilest, and art still outtopping knowledge. The abyss will gaze into thee.
The details shaped themselves beneath his hands on the wheel, flew in parallels of bright speed, seethed with the wind through the cracks in the glass, rose before him in the grey shape of Belmont. If he got there first, he would leave the car at the edge of the road, in the usual place, would precede her to the familiar little hollow of rocks and grass and junipers, with its wall of cedars and birches, so that before she could see him she would hear him. But if she heard the shots, would she dare to approach?
That risk must be taken. If she heard him, and decided not to come—
There was no sign of her at the top of the hill, nor in the path that led to the abandoned racecourse, nor on the grass-grown racecourse itself, where he got out of the car. The gray stillness was profound, it was like the Sabbath, he took the revolver from the pouch in the car door, slipped it into his pocket, also the little red box of cartridges tied with string, then put two fingers to his teeth and gave a long whistle, whip-lashed at the end like a whip-poor-will. There was no answer, no echo from the coppice of white birches, he noticed the dandelions in the short grass at his feet, and it occurred to him that he could leave a note for her. He wrote on the back of Gerta’s letter: Quite safe to approach: firing the other way. Leaving this on the runningboard, with a pebble to hold it in place, he descended the short path of rocks and sprawling juniper which led to the hollow, lifting one elbow before his face as a protection against swinging branches. As he watched the last of the young birch leaves, bright green, slide across his blue sleeve, he heard Gerta’s voice before him, speaking levelly:
— I had an idea it would be safer to be here first.
— You needn’t have worried. I left a note for you on the car.
— Why the car? is that part of the plot?
— Of course. I thought Toppan had told you. And as a matter of fact, hadn’t he?
— As a matter of fact, he hadn’t.
Seated on the rock, her hands beside her, her foot swinging, she looked up at him with an air of challenge and mischief, her dark eyes narrowed but bright, a look which in other circumstances might have been disconcerting. The familiar blue cape was open, save at the throat, she was wearing the white Russian blouse, she was bare-headed, the dark hair turned away in wings from the calm forehead.
— Then I’ve no doubt he will.
— My dear Jasper, would you mind just explaining a little of all this?
— Must I? I thought everything had been made quite clear at our last meeting.
— I see. You assumed it would all go on.
— Why not?
— As I said in my letter, you appear to take a great deal for granted. Merely because in the past we’ve been very good friends—
— Am I right in saying that we came to an agreement? an agreement to co-operate? But I suppose, as I predicted, S has begun to influence you, you’re no longer to be trusted. You were unable to keep yourself separate from him!
She got up and walked away from him slowly, her hands holding tensely the dark edges of the cape. Over her shoulder she said, with an effect of measured lightness:
— I expected you to say that. I’ve been completely loyal. Sandbach is certainly distressed and angry about it, and of course very much mystified, nor can you blame him, he’s not content to let things just stand as they are, he wants to know what is happening.
She turned back towards him, stood still in the grass, the cape folded across her breast, her arms akimbo beneath it. Across the little interval of bright grass and dandelions she continued:
— Co-operation! What am I supposed to do when you go away and stay away? It’s all very well!
He took out the revolver, held it flat on the flat of his hand, weighed it appreciatively with downward gaze.
— You were supposed to wait, to be trusted. You know that.
— Jasper, I was—
— You’ve doubted, you’ve drawn away, your letter makes that clear! We’ll discuss it later — in the meantime do you mind if I try this out? A couple of rounds, just to see if it’s working. Two years ago at Capri—
— Capri?
— It was all right. I could hit a stone the size of a watch at fifty feet.… I’ll use that rock over there.
He placed the box of cartridges on the grass before her, the revolver on top of it, then walked deliberately across the hollow toward the large rock at the farther end, where it rose against the overhanging hillock of other rocks and cedars. As he went, he stooped, picking dandelions, choosing the larger ones, and these he hung over the lichened crest of the gray rock, their golden heads toward Gerta. The sun came out, accentuating their brightness and the paleness of his hands. Turning back, he counted off the paces.
— Twenty-five.
— I suppose you’d like me to hold one in my teeth?
— This is probably the first time in the world that dandelions have been used. Now cover your ears.
He smiled at her: she smiled back. Then, raising the little black pistol over his head and slowly lowering it to the level of the rock, and without perceptible pause, the first golden disk sighted, he fired. The rock seemed to have jumped, the first of the dandelion heads had vanished, the swift sound fled wildly off among the woods, the little smoke died in sunlight. Before the ringing in his ears had ceased he fired again, and again the rock jumped, but this time it was a miss; then again, again, again, and again. Four of the flowers were gone, the woods were singing with compressed clamor, one clap of sound folding hollowly on another, a muffled swoon of tumult. He clicked the empty revolver, lifted his face to the smell of drifting gunpowder, laid his hand over the short barrel to feel the warmth. When he turned round, he saw that Gerta had gone very white.
— Feel it, he said.
— No thank you. I’m not enjoying this.
— I’m sorry. Do you mind if I continue?
— Not at all.
— If you listened carefully, it might give you a sense of power!
— A sense of your power?
— Just as you like.
She was frightened, she sat down again on her rock, her lips tightly pressed together, her face averted: she was swinging one foot, nervously; perhaps angrily. What she was about to say was in her eyes, in her lowered brows: he watched her decision while he extracted the magazine of blue metal and reloaded it.
— If you don’t mind my saying so, it all seems to me extremely silly.
— Why should I mind what you say? It is silly. Like many necessary things. And like many things we’ve agreed on before. Sandbach, for instance!