Get a Load of This

     Gerda, coming into the room like a dark shadow, stole up behind them. The firelight reflected in her fixed staring eyes, and Stella, looking over Denny's shoulder, bit back a scream of fear as she saw Gerda's hand suddenly sweep up, holding something that glittered.

     Stella tried to push Denny away, but already the glittering thing was coming down swiftly and Denny relaxed limply on her with a choking cough. With a wild scream, Stella pushed him on to the floor and scrambled up.

     “What have you done?” she screamed at Gerda. “What have you done?” She stumbled over to the lamp and turned it on.

     Gerda was standing over Denny, her face white and hard. She said, without looking at Stella, “Shut up! Don't make a sound.”

     Denny rolled over on his side and struggled up on his elbow. A long, thin-bladed table-knife was driven deeply into his neck. Stella could see the silver handle protruding, and she pressed her hands against her mouth in horror.

     Blood began to flow over Denny's white shirt and run on to the carpet. He touched the handle with his hand as if he couldn't believe that this had happened to him. He said in a very low, choked voice, “Did you do it?” to Gerda.

     Gerda didn't say anything. She was watching the red ribbon running on to the cream carpet.

     “Couldn't you have left me alone?” Denny said. “My God, I was a fool to have had anything to do with you two. It was the money, I suppose. I didn't think you were as bad as that. Do you think it will do you any good? Don't stand there looking at me. Get me a doctor. Do you want me to bleed to death?”

     “Yes,” Stella said wildly, “get him a doctor, for God's sake!”

     Gerda just said, “Shut up!” and drew away from Denny with a little grimace of disgust.

     “Do you want me to die?” Denny said, panic coming into his eyes. “Help me! Don't stand staring. Help me, you bitch! Can't you see I'm bleeding to death?”

     Stella threw herself on the settee and began to scream wildly. Outside, the wind continued to roar and the rain drummed on the roof.

     Gerda took a quick step forward and struck Stella across her face. Stella fell back, her mouth open, but silent. “I said shut up,” Gerda said harshly. “Do you understand?”

     Making a terrific effort, Denny crawled on to his knees and then levered himself upright. He stood holding on to the back of a chair, making a sobbing noise in his throat. “Help me, Stella,” he gasped. “Don't let me die, Stella—help me.”

     He put his hand on the knife and tried to pull it out, but the sudden wave of pain was too much, and he fell on to his knees.

     Stella scrambled off the settee and ran out of the room. She came back a moment later with a towel. “Here,” she said frantically to Gerda, “stop him bleeding.”

     Gerda snatched the towel from her savagely and went over to Denny. She took hold of the hilt of the knife and jerked it out of the wound. Denny gave a high-pitched cry like the whinnying of a horse. Blood welled out of him in a scarlet stream. He fell forward on his face and clawed at the stained carpet. He writhed for a moment, then relaxed limply. Blood continued to gush from the wound until eventually it ceased.

     The two girls stood watching him. Stella, in horror, unable to move or to take her eyes from him, and Gerda hard, inscrutable and cold.

     She said: “He's dead now. You'd better go into the kitchen.”

     Stella ran to her. “You mustn't. I know what you're going to do. You're going to take that money. You killed him for it, didn't you?”

     “It's no use to him now,” Gerda said. “Go into the other room, or I shall be angry with you.”

     Stella hid her face in her hands and stumbled out of the room. The noise of the hurricane rose to a terrific crescendo as she slammed the door behind her.

     Gerda didn't hesitate. She stepped round Denny very carefully, avoiding the blood on the carpet, and pulled the wallet from his hip pocket. She took the eight-thousand bills and the rest of the small notes and put the wallet back in his pocket. She stood for a moment looking at the notes, then she closed her fingers over them tightly and heaved a great sigh. At last, she thought, I am free. Nothing matters now. I can live as I want to live. She didn't think of the dead man for one moment.

     She found Stella in the kitchen, sobbing quietly and shivering with shock. She took no notice of her but began to dress in her half-dried clothes. She put the roll of notes in her trouser pocket, pulled on her damp black sweater with a little grimace and then turned her attention to Stella.

     “Get dressed at once,” she said. “Stop that snivelling; it won't get you anywhere.”

     Stella took no notice of her, and Gerda, losing patience, jerked her out of her chair and shook her.

     “Get dressed, you fool!” she shouted. “Do you hear?”

     Stella looked at her blankly and began to wring her hands.