There was a moderate excitement. The visitors at Schwitter's were too much
engrossed with themselves to be much interested. She opened her eyes almost
as soon as she fell--to forestall any tests; she was shrewd enough to know
that Wilson would detect her malingering very quickly--and begged to be
taken into the house. "I feel very ill," she said, and her white face bore
her out.
Schwitter and Bill carried her in and up the stairs to one of the newly
furnished rooms. The little man was twittering with anxiety. He had a
horror of knockout drops and the police. They laid her on the bed, her hat
beside her; and Wilson, stripping down the long sleeve of her glove, felt
her pulse.
"There's a doctor in the next town," said Schwitter. "I was going to send
for him, anyhow--my wife's not very well."
"I'm a doctor."
"Is it anything serious?"
"Nothing serious."
He closed the door behind the relieved figure of the landlord, and, going
back to Carlotta, stood looking down at her.
"What did you mean by doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"You were no more faint than I am."
She closed her eyes.
"I don't remember. Everything went black. The lanterns--"
He crossed the room deliberately and went out, closing the door behind him.
He saw at once where he stood--in what danger. If she insisted that she
was ill and unable to go back, there would be a fuss. The story would come
out. Everything would be gone. Schwitter's, of all places!
At the foot of the stairs, Schwitter pulled himself together. After all,
the girl was only ill. There was nothing for the police. He looked at his
watch. The doctor ought to be here by this time. It was sooner than they
had expected. Even the nurse had not come. Tillie was alone, out in the
harness-room. He looked through the crowded rooms, at the overflowing
porch with its travesty of pleasure, and he hated the whole thing with a
desperate hatred.
Another car. Would they never stop coming! But perhaps it was the doctor.
A young man edged his way into the hall and confronted him.
"Two people just arrived here. A man and a woman--in white. Where are
they?"
It was trouble then, after all!
"Upstairs--first bedroom to the right." His teeth chattered. Surely, as a
man sowed he reaped.
Joe went up the staircase. At the top, on the landing, he confronted
Wilson. He fired at him without a word--saw him fling up his arms and fall
back, striking first the wall, then the floor.