Zimmerman.”
Foltz looked astonished. “Steve! Why Steve?”
“Oh, I just said that. But you know P. L. doesn’t like Steve; he won’t like him even for your sake, Martin. Then this morning I met Steve in the corridor outside P. L.’s office, and he acted—”
“Steve? You met Steve there?” Foltz was incredulous.
“Yes, why shouldn’t I? I mean, if he arrived at a certain given spot at the precise moment that I arrived at it, I was bound to meet him, no way out of it. Though I admit I was as surprised as you are. He talked very funny—I know he often does, and what can you expect, a scientist like him with his mind on his genius. But he seemed to me to be raving—for instance, he mentioned mortal injury, and sacrifice and devotion, and all at once he scuttled—left me standing with my mouth open. Then when I got into P. L.’s room I found him in a trance, absolutely, he didn’t even invite me to have a drink of water. Later he doubled up his fists and said he would like to kill a man with his two hands.”
Len Chisholm nodded. “It must be either the office boy or Steve Zimmerman. It couldn’t be Martin, because he thinks Martin is the bubble in the champagne. It couldn’t be me, because he knows I’d break his neck. What’s eating you, Martin?”
“Nothing.” Foltz jerked around to him. “Only—Steve is an old friend of mine, and he does get funny sometimes—I was wondering …”
“Nothing to wonder about. Steve went down there to do Storrs a mortal injury, and Storrs wants to bounce it back at him. It’s all right. Those things always reach a climax sooner or later. Like the job I had. It took me a year to get on the Gazette. Oh, well.” He turned to Dol Bonner. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
She shook her head. “You’re broke.”
“No. I just meant that as a euphemism. Anyway, my credit’s good at George and Harry’s, and I’ll win a fortune at bridge tonight if you’ll be my partner.”
She shook her head again. “I’m busy. You can all get out of here any time now.—I’ll mail you a copy of this statement, Sylvia.”
“You’ll what?” Sylvia stood up. “Now don’t be eccentric, Dol—How did you come in, Martin, train?—Good. I’ve gotthe big car. We’ll all have a bite together and drive out to Martin’s. Come, comrades.”
They got up, but Dol Bonner sat. “Run along and godspeed.” She waved a hand.
Sylvia wheeled. “Dol … Dol dear … won’t you come?”
“No. Really.”
“Do you hate me?”
“Of course not. I adore you. I like you. I can’t go to Birchhaven because I’m taking Dick to a matinee. He leaves Monday for Gresham. At least—” She hesitated. “I guess he does.” She shrugged, and smiled. “Piffle. Of course he does.”
Sylvia had looked suddenly startled, and now stood with compressed lips. She opened them: “Good Lord. That shows you what I’m like. I hadn’t thought of Dick at all. But Dick certainly has nothing to do with the detective business, and there’s no reason—”
“No, Sylvia.” Dol’s eyes flashed. “Really, you know—not even from you.”
“And why not?” Sylvia demanded. “Why shouldn’t I? Don’t be selfish. Just because you’ve got a kid brother you’re proud of, and I haven’t got any at all—you were going to pay the darned school out of your salary, weren’t you? And now it’s all arranged for Gresham, and the fact is I’m as responsible as you are—”
“No.” Dol was incisive. “He’s my brother and nobody else’s, and certainly I’m selfish. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’ll manage.”
“Please?” Sylvia extended both her palms. “
Please!
”
Dol shook her head. “Not even you, Sylvia. You know the jolt my pride got two years ago, and I have to baby it. Not even you.”
It sounded final. Sylvia stood and stared at her helplessly. After a moment Dol said brusquely, “You folks had better move along. And Sylvia—you’d better tell your room