More Deadly Than The Male

The Hebrew said, "Wait." George's white face, the sharp etched lines of misery, his despairing eyes puzzled him "What is that?" he asked, nodding at the bundle.

George put the bundle on the counter. "It's my cat," he said unevenly.

The woman looked at the bundle and then at George. "What's he talking about?" she asked impatiently.

Max touched the bundle with two bony fingers. He felt the hard body and he grimaced.

"Is this a trick?" he said, not believing it was a trick, but bewildered.

"Would you mind looking?" George said. "Could you look so that I don't have to see him again?" His mouth tightened. "I'm sorry to be so upset, but he was really the only thing that meant anything to me."

"Perhaps he's mad," Emily said, half to herself.

Reluctantly, the Hebrew lifted the corner of the towel. His face revealed an impersonal disgust, but he turned the bundle so that the woman could see.

"She did that," George said.

Both Emily and Max seemed to know whom he meant.

"Ah," Max said, dropping the towel. "It was your cat?"

George nodded. "I didn't think she'd do such a thing. I knew she might do anything to me, but I didn't think she would touch Leo. I Suppose I ought to have thought of it, because there was nothing else she could have done which would have hurt as much as this."

"Is that what brought you here?" Emily asked abruptly.

"Oh yes," George said. "She can't he allowed to go on and on. She might hurt too many people. That's why I've come to you."

"You killed Crispin, didn't you?" Emily said, in a flat, cold voice.

"That's what I mean," George returned steadily. "I've come to explain Then you must decide what to do."

"You were foolish to come," Max said softly. "You know what happened to Sydney?"

Again George nodded. "It doesn't matter about me," he said. "I don't care what happens to me. I just want to be sure that she won't escape."

Max glanced over at Emily

"I think we should hear what he has to say," he said. "It might save a lot of time."

Emily nodded and walked round the cash desk. She crossed to a table and turned on the lamp. She sat down and pointed to a chair opposite her.

"Sit down and talk," she said.

George sat down. The two Greeks moved nearer so that they were immediately behind him. The Hebrew left the bar and joined them at the table.

"Perhaps one of you would take the gun," George said. "It's in my pocket. I don't suppose you would like me to take it out. Be careful how you handle it, it's loaded."

He felt the gun being lifted from his pocket. Nick slid it across the table towards Max, who put his hand on it.

"I want to tell you exactly how it happened," George said. "It'll take a little time, but it's important."

Emily shrugged. "Take as long as you like," she said indifferently. "It'll probably be the last time you'll talk to anyone.

George considered this. He found it strange that he was unmoved. He knew they were killers, but he was so tired and sad that nothing really mattered any more.

It was a relief to tell them about it. It was extraordinary how easy it was to tell once he started. He began by explaining about his parents.

"You see," he said, folding his hands on the table and looking at the woman's hard, fat face, "no one ever bothered with me when I was a kid. My parents were on the stage. They didn't want a child. I used to envy them. They had their names in the newspapers and on hoardings. I wonder if you can understand why I pretended to be someone quite different from what I really am? It was foolish, but I wanted so badly to be someone . . . to impress people."

The woman nodded, understanding. She thought sadly of her son, Crispin. He also had wanted to impress people. "Go on," she said, "I understand that part of it."

"When I told Sydney about the gun he changed towards me. I know why now. I was just the fool he was looking for, but I didn't know then. It wasn't until after I shot Crispin that I knew."

They all stiffened when he said that. Nick reached forward and seized him by the back of his neck, but Max struck his hand away.

"Wait," he said.

"So you did shoot him" Emily said, her eyes snapping.

"Oh yes," George returned, "it was an accident, but I shot him all right. It's something I'll never forgive myself for."

He told them about Cora.

"I don't understand women," he explained. "I've never had anything to do with them. It all happened so quickly. She rather swept me off my feet. I've been very stupid, I'm afraid."

He went on, explaining every detail, showing them the gun. He explained how Sydney had fixed the trigger and had stolen the cartridge. He pulled out the magazine and demonstrated how easily the gun fired. He told them how careful he had always been never to put a cartridge into the breech.

"I was afraid of accidents," he said, "but they loaded the gun without telling me. You see, they were determined to make me a murderer."