The Madman's Room

‘Howard, we’re waiting!’

He stood there with a lump in his throat for a few more seconds, his eyes riveted on the old house. He had a distinct feeling he was looking at it for the last time.

And he was right.

26

At around four o’clock, Patrick, Paula and Bessie saw Dr. Twist coming out of Brian’s room. The criminologist greeted them briefly and said he’d see them later, during the course of the evening. He seemed preoccupied but excited, and was holding a piece of folded paper in his hand which Patrick took to be a telegram.

Brian was lying in his bed with his head entirely swathed in bandages except around his eyes, which lit up at the sight of his three visitors, and around his mouth, which welcomed them with a courageous smile.

‘My dear friends,’ he said in a feeble voice. ‘I shall regret leaving this bed. I’ve never had so much attention in my life.’

‘What are you saying, Brian?’ replied Bessie, in a tone of amiable reproach. ‘It was you who never noticed our existence. What does your doctor say? When will he let you go home?’

‘He told me I was very lucky, but I still need to stay here for another two months.’

Which was true, for the visitors had met with the doctor before running into Dr. Twist. Fortunately, the victim’s face bore only superficial burns, but his arms and legs had sustained more damage and would take longer to heal. Two months more in hospital was the minimum. Nevertheless, despite appearances, he had a robust constitution, he suffered stoically and his morale was excellent.

Patrick asked Brian casually what was the purpose of Dr. Twist’s visit.

The joyful light in the injured man’s eyes went out immediately.

‘We talked for almost two hours. He asked me certain questions about… cards, which I’d prefer not to talk about. Just before you arrived, someone brought him a telegram. He read it and seemed quite agitated by it, but he didn’t tell me what it was about.’

Seeing that Brian was becoming agitated, Bessie changed the subject, but not before frowning at Patrick.

A little later, Paula announced she was going to step outside for a while to smoke a cigarette and asked Patrick whether he would be good enough to join her.

In silence, the two of them reached the garden and sat down on a bench. Paula puffed nervously at her cigarette and then declared, in a dangerously calm voice:

‘Don’t you think it’s about time you told me the truth?’

‘But… what truth?’

‘The truth about your relations with Bessie. Because it’s as clear as daylight that you don’t love each other.’

‘What are you talking about, Paula?’

‘The truth. Nothing but the truth. She doesn’t love you and you don’t love her either. That doesn’t mean that you don’t like each other. It was quite convincing — in the beginning at least. But now, you’d have to be blind not to see she’s in love with Brian, more in love than she’s ever been, even in her time with Meadows.’

‘Where are you going with this?’ exclaimed Patrick, raising his arms in the air. ‘She pities the poor fellow, in the condition he’s in.’

‘Pity? Have you seen the way she looks at him? Either I’m an idiot, or that woman has just realised she’s met the man of her life — or, more precisely, Brian is the man she needs. Forget about the nuances. It can’t have escaped your notice, and yet you haven’t taken offence… on the contrary, you seem relieved. For the last time, Patrick, what’s going on?’

Blue Reed was on the point of protesting, but decided to keep quiet and sat back on the bench, admiring the park. He thought for a moment and then decided to come clean. He took a deep breath, like a swimmer about to dive:

‘I can explain in three words, Paula: I love you.’

‘That’s what I was afraid of.’

Her tone wasn’t very warm, nor was it very convincing. Her pink cheeks (from the cold?) contrasted with the paleness of her skin. Her hair, dishevelled by the wind, fell in disarray on her coat collar as she, too, stared into the distance.

‘Very well,’ said Patrick, ‘I see you’re not going to make it easy for me, but I’m going to tell you everything.’

‘And not before time.’

‘Do you remember last summer, and our last rendezvous the night Harris Thorne died?’

‘Perfectly. And you promised me that it would be the last time and you would never try to see me again.’

‘Well, since that moment I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I… what’s the use. I’m not sure you could understand. Suffice to say, I didn’t keep my promise — and I started to think. How to get close to you without it appearing pre-meditated? I did some searching and—.’

‘You arranged to make the acquaintance of Bessie. How charming!’

‘Paula, I beg you. I wouldn’t want you to think—.’

‘Think what? That you used her as a pawn on the chessboard? It’s disgusting! An easy prey, a poor girl bewildered by the break-up of her engagement.’