Dearest Page 4

on."

  He stood just inside the doorway, holding a silver-banded malaccawalking-stick that he had taken from the hall-stand. He was grasping itin his left hand, below the band, with the crook out, holding it at hisside as though it were a sword in a scabbard, which was exactly whatthat walking-stick was. Albert looked at him, and then back at ColonelHampton. Then, whipping off his necktie, he went down on his kneesbeside Doctor Vehrner, skillfully applying the improvised tourniquet,twisting it tight with an eighteen-inch ruler the Colonel took from thedesk and handed to him.

  "Go get the first-aid kit, Sergeant," the Colonel said. "And hurry. Mr.Stephen's been shot, too."

  "Yessuh!" Sergeant Williamson executed an automatic salute andabout-face and raced from the room. The Colonel picked up the telephoneon the desk.

  The County Hospital was three miles from "Greyrock"; the State Policesubstation a good five. He dialed the State Police number first.

  "Sergeant Mallard? Colonel Hampton, at 'Greyrock.' We've had a littletrouble here. My nephew's wife just went _juramentado_ with one of mypistols, shot and wounded her husband and another man, and then shot andkilled herself.... Yes, indeed it is, Sergeant. I wish you'd sendsomebody over here, as soon as possible, to take charge.... Oh, youwill? That's good.... No, it's all over, and nobody to arrest; just theformalities.... Well, thank you, Sergeant."

  The old Negro cavalryman re-entered the room, without the sword-cane andcarrying a heavy leather box on a strap over his shoulder. He set thison the floor and opened it, then knelt beside Stephen Hampton. TheColonel was calling the hospital.

  "... gunshot wounds," he was saying. "One man in the chest and the otherin the leg, both with a .45 pistol. And you'd better send a doctor who'squalified to write a death certificate; there was a woman killed,too.... Yes, certainly; the State Police have been notified."

  "Dis ain' so bad, Cunnel," Sergeant Williamson raised his head to say."Ah's seen men shot wuss'n dis dat was ma'ked 'Duty' inside a month,suh."

  Colonel Hampton nodded. "Well, get him fixed up as best you can, tillthe ambulance gets here. And there's whiskey and glasses on that table,over there. Better give Doctor Vehrner a drink." He looked at T.Barnwell Powell, still frozen to his chair, aghast at the carnage aroundhim. "And give Mr. Powell a drink, too. He needs one."

  He did, indeed. Colonel Hampton could have used a drink, too; thelibrary looked like beef-day at an Indian agency. But he was stillSlaughterhouse Hampton, and consequently could not afford to exhibitqueasiness.

  It was then, for the first time since the business had started that hefelt the presence of Dearest.

  "Oh, Popsy, are you all right?" the voice inside his head was asking."It's all over, now; you won't have anything to worry about, any more.But, oh, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do it!"

  "My God, Dearest!" He almost spoke aloud. "Did you make her do that?"

  "Popsy!" The voice in his mind was grief-stricken. "You.... You'reafraid of me! Never be afraid of Dearest, Popsy! And don't hate me forthis. It was the only thing I could do. If he'd given you thatinjection, he could have made you tell him all about us, and then he'dhave been sure you were crazy, and they'd have taken you away. And theytreat people dreadfully at that place of his. You'd have been drivenreally crazy before long, and then your mind would have been closed tome, so that I wouldn't have been able to get through to you, any more.What I did was the only thing I could do."

  "I don't hate you, Dearest," he replied, mentally. "And I don't blameyou. It was a little disconcerting, though, to discover the extent ofyour capabilities.... How did you manage it?"

  "You remember how I made the Sergeant see an angel, the time you weredown in the snow?" Colonel Hampton nodded. "Well, I made her see ...things that weren't angels," Dearest continued. "After I'd driven heralmost to distraction, I was able to get into her mind and take controlof her." Colonel Hampton felt a shudder inside of him. "That washorrible; that woman had a mind like a sewer; I still feel dirty fromit! But I made her get the pistol--I knew where you kept it--and I knewhow to use it, even if she didn't. Remember when we were shootingmuskrats, that time, along the river?"

  "Uhuh. I wondered how she knew enough to unlock the action and load thechamber." He turned and faced the others.

  Doctor Vehrner was sitting on the floor, with his back to the chairColonel Hampton had occupied, his injured leg stretched out in front ofhim. Albert was hovering over him with mother-hen solicitude. T.Barnwell Powell was finishing his whiskey and recovering a fraction ofhis normal poise.

  "Well, I suppose you gentlemen see, now, who was really crazy aroundhere?" Colonel Hampton addressed them bitingly. "That woman has beendangerously close to the borderline of sanity for as long as she's beenhere. I think my precious nephew trumped up this ridiculous insanitycomplaint against me as much to discredit any testimony I might evergive about his wife's mental condition as because he wanted to getcontrol of my estate. I also suppose that the tension she was underhere, this afternoon, was too much for her, and the scheme boomerangedon its originators. Curious case of poetic justice, but I'm sorry youhad to be included in it, Doctor."

  "Attaboy, Popsy!" Dearest enthused. "Now you have them on the run; don'tgive them a chance to re-form. You know what Patton always said--Grab'em by the nose and kick 'em in the pants."

  Colonel Hampton re-lighted his cigar. "Patton only said 'pants' when hewas talking for publication," he told her, _sotto voce_. Then he noticedthe unsigned commitment paper lying on the desk. He picked it up,crumpled it, and threw it into the fire.

  "I don't think you'll be needing that," he said. "You know, this isn'tthe first time my loving nephew has expressed doubts as to my sanity."He sat down in the chair at the desk, motioning to his servant to bringhim a drink. "And see to the other gentlemen's glasses, Sergeant," hedirected. "Back in 1929, Stephen thought I was crazy as a bedbug to sellall my securities and take a paper loss, around the first of September.After October 24th, I bought them back at about twenty per cent of whatI'd sold them for, after he'd lost his shirt." That, he knew, would havean effect on T. Barnwell Powell. "And in December, 1944, I was justplain nuts, selling all my munition shares and investing in a companythat manufactured baby-food. Stephen thought that Rundstedt's Ardennescounter-offensive would put off the end of the war for another year anda half!"

  "Baby-food, eh?" Doctor Vehrner chuckled.

  Colonel Hampton sipped his whiskey slowly, then puffed on his cigar."No, this pair were competent liars," he replied. "A good workmanlikeliar never makes up a story out of the whole cloth; he always takes afabric of truth and embroiders it to suit the situation." He smiledgrimly; that was an accurate description of his own tactical procedureat the moment. "I hadn't intended this to come out, Doctor, but ithappens that I am a convinced believer in spiritualism. I suppose you'llthink that's a delusional belief, too?"

  "Well...." Doctor Vehrner pursed his lips. "I reject the idea ofsurvival after death, myself, but I think that people who believe insuch a theory are merely misevaluating evidence. It is definitely not,in itself, a symptom of a psychotic condition."

  "Thank you, Doctor." The Colonel gestured with his cigar. "Now, I'lladmit their statements about my appearing to be in conversation withsome invisible or imaginary being. That's all quite true. I'm convincedthat I'm in direct-voice communication with the spirit of a young girlwho was killed by Indians in this section about a hundred andseventy-five years ago. At first, she communicated by automatic writing;later we established direct-voice communication. Well, naturally, a manin my position would dislike the label of spirit-medium; thereare too many invidious associations connected with the term. But thereit is. I trust both of you gentlemen will remember the ethics of yourrespective professions and keep this confidential."

  "Oh, brother!" Dearest was fairly hugging him with delight. "When biggerand better lies are told, we tell them, don't we, Popsy?"

  "Yes, and try and prove otherwise," Colonel Hampton replied, around hiscigar. Then he blew a jet of smoke and spoke to
the men in front of him.

  "I intend paying for my nephew's hospitalization, and for his wife'sfuneral," he said. "And then, I'm going to pack up all his personalbelongings, and all of hers; when he's discharged from the hospital,I'll ship them wherever he wants them. But he won't be allowed to comeback here. After this business, I'm through with him."

  T.