Hotel

"I'll write it now." The Duchess crossed the room to a secretaire. She wrote quickly and a moment later returned with a sheet of hotel stationery, folded. "This should do."

Without looking at the paper, Ogilvie placed it in an inside pocket. His eyes remained fixed on the Duchess's face.

There was an awkward silence. She said uncertainly, "It isn't what you wanted?"

The Duke of Croydon rose and walked stiffly away. Turning his back, he said testily, "It's the monev. He wants money."

Ogilvie's fleshy features shaped themselves into a smirk.

"That's it, Duchess. Ten thousan' now, like we said. Fifteen more in Chicago, Sat'day."

The Duchess's jeweled fingers went swiftly to her temples in a distracted gesture. "I don't know how . . . I'd forgotten. There's been so much else."

"Don't matter none. I woulda remembered."

"It will have to be this afternoon. Our bank must arrange . . ."

"In cash," the fat man said. "Nothing bigger'n twenties, an' not new bills."

She looked at him sharply. "Why?"

"Ain't traceable that way."

"You don't trust us?"

He shook his head. "In somethin' like this, it ain't smart to trust anybody."

"Then why should we trust you?"

"I got another fifteen grand ridin'." The odd falsetto voice held an undertone of impatience. "An' remember that's to be cash too, an' banks don't open Sat'day."

"Suppose," the Duchess said, "that in Chicago we didn't pay you."

There was no longer a smile, or even an imitation of one. "I'm sure glad you brought that up," Ogilvie said. "Just so's we understand each other."

"I think I understand, but tell me."

"What'll happen in Chicago, Duchess, is this. I'll stash the car some place, though you won't know where. I come to the hotel, collect the fifteen g's. When I done that, you get the keys 'n I tell you where the car is."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'm gettin' to it." The little pig's eyes gleamed. "Anythin' goes wrong - like f'r instance you say there's no cash because you forgot the banks wasn't open, I holler cops - right there in Chicago."

"You'd have a good deal of explaining to do yourself. For example, how you came to drive the car north."

"No mystery about that. All I'd say is, you paid me a couple hundred - I'd have it on me - to bring the car up. You said it was too far. You and the Duke here wanted to fly. Weren't until I got to Chicago an' took a good look at the car, I figured things out. So the enormous shoulders shrugged.

"We have no intention," the Duchess of Croydon assured him, "of failing to keep our part of the bargain. But like you, I wanted to be sure we understood each other,"

Ogilvie nodded. "I reckon we do."

"Come back at five," the Duchess said. "The money will be ready."

When Ogilvie had gone, the Duke of Croydon returned from his self-imposed isolation across the room. There was a tray of glasses and bottles on a sideboard, replenished since last night. Pouring a stiff Scotch, he splashed in soda and tossed the drink down.

The Duchess said acidly, "You're begining early again, I see."

"It's a cleansing agent." He poured himself a second drink, though this time sipping it more slowly. "Being in the same room with that man makes me feel dirty."

"Obviously he's less particular," his wife said. "Otherwise he might object to the company of a drunken child killer."

The Duke's face was white. His hands trembled as he put the drink down.

"That's below the belt, old girl."

She added, "Who also ran away."

"By God - you shan't get away with that." It was an angry shout. His hands clenched and for an instant it seemed as if he might strike out. "You were the one! The one who pleaded to drive on, and afterward not go back. But for you, I would have! It would do no good, you said; what was done was done.

Even yesterday I'd have gone to the police. You were against it! So now we have him, that . . . that leper who'll rob us of every last vestige . . ."

The voice tailed off.

"Am I to assume," the Duchess inquired, "that you've completed your hysterical outburst?" There was no answer, and she continued, "May I remind you that you've needed remarkably little persuasion to act precisely as you have. Had you wished or intended to do otherwise, no opinion of mine need have mattered in the least. As for leprosy, I doubt you'll contract it since you've carefully stood aside, leaving all that had to be done with that man, to be done by me."

Her husband sighed. "I should have known better than to argue. I'm sorry."

"If argument's necessary to straighten your thinking," she said indifferently, "I've no objection."

The Duke had retrieved his drink and turned the glass idly in his hand.

"It's a funny thing," he said. "I had the feeling for a while that all this, bad as it was, had brought us together."

The words were so obviously an appeal that the Duchess hesitated. For her, too, the session with Ogilvie had been humiliating and exhausting.

She had a longing, deep within, for a moment's tranquillity.

Yet, perversely, the effort of conciliation was beyond her. She answered,