The Flesh Of The Orchid Part 5

"I was reckoning you boys knew something," Magarth said, jingling his loose change suggestively. "Who the dame is, for instance. My expense account is fat with inactivity, if that interests you."

Both Garland and Joe lost their indifferent expressions.

"How fat would it be?" Garland asked cautiously.

"Well, maybe 'fat's' the wrong word. I should have said bloated. If you know anything don't be scared to open your little mouths."

"We won't," Garland said, looked cautiously over his shoulder. "A hundred bucks would buy it, wouldn't it, Joe?"

"Just about," Joe said, rubbing his hands. "A hundred each."

Magarth winced.

"I guess I'll try that blonde nurse. By the circles under her eyes she'd give herself away as well as information for two hundred bucks."

Garland's face fell.

"He's right," he said to Joe.

"But you'd never be the same guy again," Joe said seriously. "I've tried her. It's like wrestling with a bear-trap."

"I like 'em that way," Magarth said simply. "Ever since I was knee-high to an ant I've been handling energetic women. You don't have to worry about me." He tilted his hat over his nose, squinted at Garland. "Of course, if you'd like to make it a hundred bucks I'd play along with you. I'm the self-sacrificing type."

Garland and Joe exchanged glances.

"O.K.," Garland said. "It's a deal."

"It'll have to be good for the dough," Magarth reminded him.

"It's better than good-it's sensational," Garland said. "Front page stuff in six-inch type."

"Bigger than Pearl Harbour," Joe said.

"Bigger than the Atom Bomb," Garland added, not to be outdone.

Magarth produced a roll of notes, peeled off five twenty-dollar bills.

"I came heeled guessing you two would sing," he said, dangling the bills. "Let's hear."

"John Blandish's heiress," Sam said, grabbed the notes. "How do you like that?"

Magarth took a step forward.

"What do you mean?" he said, a rasp in his voice. "What kind of fluff's this?"

"What I say," Sam said. "Ain't you heard of John Blandish ? Well, this guy had a daughter and she was kidnapped. . ."

Steve and Carol breakfasted alone together the next morning. Roy had gone out early after trout.

"Did you sleep all right last night?" Steve asked casually as he poured coffee.

"I dreamed," she returned. "I always dream."

"But did you get up in the night?" Steve smiled at her. "I thought I heard someone moving about in the cabin. Maybe I was dreaming, too."

"Oh, no," she said, touched her temples with slim fingers. "But something did happen. I can't remember. I can't remember anything. It frightens me." She reached across the table for his hand. "I don't know what I should do without you. I feel so safe with you."

Steve grinned uncomfortably, patted her hand.

"You'd be all right," he said. "What do you dream about, Carol?"

"I don't really remember. I seem to dream the same dream ever and over again. It's something to do with a nurse. I don't know what she does, but it's always the same nurse. She has a horrible look in her eyes and she stands over me. I am so frightened in my dreams, and I wake up frightened, my heart beating, and the dark frightens me."

Steve worried about her all day, and he was still worrying when Roy returned after dark.

Roy was silent and surly until bedtime, his eyes continually on Carol.

He was already in bed when Steve came in after locking up, and he pretended to be asleep.

Steve glanced at him, shrugged, got into bed. He was tired of his brother's surly behaviour, longed to be rid of him.

Later in the night Roy sat up, called softly, and when Steve made no reply he cautiously pushed off his blanket. ? He was trembling with excitement and desire. All day he had brooded about Carol, working himself up, determined that tonight when Steve was asleep he'd go to her. She had let him kiss her: showed no fight. It should be easy so long as he could get out of the room without waking Steve. Quietly he slid out of bed.

Steve stirred in his sleep and Roy waited, tense, ready to slip back to bed, but Steve slept on. Moving softly, Roy left the room, closed the door, stood listening.

Carol's room was at the end of the pa.s.sage. There was no sound but the wind rustling in the trees and the lake water swirling against the jetty.

Roy crept down the pa.s.sage, listened at Carol's door, heard nothing, turned the handle and went in.

He could see Carol lying in the bed, her arms uncovered, her hair like a, red halo on the pillow. She looked very beautiful with the moonlight falling directly on her face, and as he came in she opened her eyes. She didn't seem alarmed. Her eyes were wide but serene.

"h.e.l.lo, kid," Roy said. His tongue felt a little too big for his mouth and his skin was feverish. "I've come to keep you company."

She didn't say anything but watched him cross the room, her eyes on his.

"You're not scared of me, are you?" he asked. Her beauty made him s.h.i.+ver.

"Oh, no," she said quietly. "I thought you would come tonight. I've been dreaming about you."

Roy started.

"You mean you wanted me to come ?" he asked, sitting on the bed by her side.

She looked gravely up at him.

"I felt your eyes on me all this evening. Wherever I went you watched me. I felt you'd come tonight."

Roy grinned.

"And I've thought about you all day, too," he said, put his hand on hers. Her hand was warm and limp, unresisting. "I wanted to kiss you again."

"Steve doesn't want you to do that."

"Steve won't know. He's asleep. You liked it, didn't you?"

His face was close to hers now and his hand touched her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She didn't flinch, but stared at him abstractedly. "Undo that," he went on, touching the b.u.t.tons on the silk jacket. "Come on, Carol, come on. I'm not going to hurt you."

The girl mechanically, to his astonishment, undid the pyjama b.u.t.tons, and he touched her bare skin.

"You're beautiful, kid," he said, not knowing quite what he was saying. "You're lovely," and his hands covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

There was a blank fixed look in her eyes and she seemed to listen only vaguely to what he said.

His hands moved round her back and he lifted her. And then suddenly she gave a soft metallic little laugh that startled him.

"What's so funny in this?" he asked, angry, and hungrily crushed his mouth down on hers.

For a brief moment she lay motionless in his arms, then her arms, like steel bands, slid round his neck and gripped the back of his neck and shoulders and her teeth sank into his lips.

In the other room Steve woke suddenly. One moment he was asleep, the next wide awake and sitting up, staring round the room, a startled, puzzled expression on his face.

"What woke me like that?" he wondered, looked across at Roy's bed, which was in the darkest part of the room. He thought he could make out Roy's outline, looked at the window. Was Carol out there again? Was that why he had awakened so suddenly?

He got out of bed, went to the window. There was no one on the verandah. He could see Spot down by the outhouses. The dog was looking towards the cabin, but it made no sound.

Steve shook his head, yawned, turned back to bed.

"Guess I was dreaming," he thought, then something prompted him to go over to Roy's bed: it was empty. Instantly he thought of Carol, ran to the door.

A wild, agonized scream rang through the cabin. There was a moment's silence, then a sobbing, croaking voice yelled: "Steve! Quick! Help me!"

The hair on Steve's neck bristled at the sound of Roy's voice, and he flung open the door, stepped into the pa.s.sage.

Roy was coming towards him, bent double, his hands hiding his face. Blood ran between his fingers, dripped on to the floor.

"What's happened?" Steve gasped, standing frozen.

"It's my eyes!" Roy sobbed. "She's blinded me! Help me! For G.o.d's sake, do something!"

Steve caught hold of him.

"What have you done to her?" he cried, pushed the groaning man aside and ran into Carol's room. The room was empty. He ran to the window and came to an abrupt stop.

Carol was standing on the top verandah step looking towards him. She was naked to the waist, and her eyes glowed like cat's eyes in the moonlight.

He stood transfixed. He had never seen a wilder, more beautiful creature as the one he looked at now. Her red hair, gleaming like beaten bronze in the white light of the moon; the satin-white l.u.s.tre of her skin, cold-looking against the dark shadows of the cabin wall; the curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s; her tense, dangerous att.i.tude like a jungle cat, and the way she held her hands before her like two claws, startled him, and yet strangely excited him.

Then she turned and ran down the steps and across the yard.

"Carol!" Steve cried, starting forward. "Carol, come back!"

But she had already vanished into the pinewood. She had moved with incredible swiftness.

Not knowing what to do, Steve stood hesitating, then the sound of his brother's groans made him return to the pa.s.sage.

"Pull yourself together," he said impatiently. "You can't be so badly hurt."

"She's blinded me, d.a.m.n you!" Roy screamed frantically, and took his hands from his eyes.

Steve stepped back, sick and cold.

Roy's eyes swam in blood. Cruel long nail-marks ran down his forehead, across his eyelids, down his cheeks. He was on the point of collapse and sagged against the wall, moaning, his body s.h.i.+vering.

"Save my eyes," he begged. "Don't let me go blind. Don't leave me, Steve. She'll come back. She's mad . . . a killer . . . look what she's done to me."

Steve took hold of him, half carried, half dragged him into the bedroom.

"Take it easy," he said curtly as he laid the sobbing wreck on the bed. "I'll fix you up. Just take it easy." He ran from the room for his medical chest, s.n.a.t.c.hed up a kettle from the stove.

"Don't leave me!" Roy wailed. "I can't see! She'll come back!"

"All right, all right," Steve shouted from the kitchen, unnerved himself. He returned to the bedroom. "I'm here now. Let me bathe your eyes. I think it's only because they're bleeding so badly you can't see."

"I'm blind! I know I'm blind," Roy groaned. "Stick by me, Steve. They're after me . . . they'll kill me if they ever find me. I'm helpless now. I can't save myself."

"Who're after you?" Steve asked sharply as he poured the warm water into a bowl.

"The Sullivans," Roy said, his hand groping vainly for Steve's. "They mean nothing to you. No one knows them. They work secretly . . . professional killers. Little Bernie's hired them to get me."

"They won't get you here," Steve said shortly. "You're safe here. Lie still. I'm going to bathe your eyes. It may hurt."

"Don't touch me!" Roy cried, cowering back. "I can't stand any more pain."

Steve waited.

"What did you do to her?" he asked when Roy had calmed down a little.

"Nothing!" Roy groaned. "She wanted me to come to her. She said so. She let me kiss her. Then I couldn't get away from her. She's strong. She had me round the neck. She bit my mouth. It was h.e.l.l. . . her eyes were like lamps. I fought her off, and as I got away she slashed me. It was like a tiger striking. She's mad . . . a wild beast."

"She was frightened," Steve said, chilled. "I warned you to leave her alone."

"If the Sullivans come now . . . what shall I do? Steve! You won't let them kill me?" Roy sat up, groped wildly under his pillow. "Here, take the gun. You must shoot at sight . . . you can't mistake them. . . ."

"Take it easy," Steve said impatiently. "You're safe here.

"You don't know them. They're professional killers. They never let up once they're hired to kill. They go on and on. Little Bernie's paid them well. They'll find me. I know they'll find me."