The Blind Side by Patricia Wentworth Page B

you know.”
    She kept her eyes on his face.
    â€œPeter—” Her voice went away to just a breath. “Peter—weren’t there any—footprints—inside that door?”
    If he had thought there was the slightest chance of persuading her that the whole thing was a dream, and that there never had been any footprints, Peter might have grasped at this serviceable lie, but as he saw no chance of getting Lee to believe in it he let it go. He said,
    â€œThat’s all right—I smudged them out.”
    â€œHow? Oh, Peter!”
    â€œWell, I was waiting for Peterson. I rather banked on his doing just what he did do, tearing off downstairs to get Rush and leaving the door open, so I was all ready with some damp paper. If there were footprints, I knew I shouldn’t have time to get rid of them altogether, but I thought I could bank on being able to mess them up so that they couldn’t possibly be identified. I’d plenty of time to do it, get back, get rid of the paper, wash my hands, and run out in my dressing-gown to join Peterson when he came back with Rush.”
    â€œIt was very clever of you.” Lee’s lashes fell for a moment and then rose again. “Peter, do you think I did it?” she said in an exhausted voice.
    She startled him horribly. He said,
    â€œWhat do you mean?” And then, on a quick note of anger, “Don’t be a damned little fool!”
    Lee stepped back from him, her gaze mournful and steady.
    â€œNo, Peter—please—I can’t bear it. It’s all shut up inside me, and if I can’t talk about it—oh, don’t you see?”
    He saw, and the anger went out of him. He said,
    â€œWhat do you want to talk about?”
    â€œI want to tell you. I’m so afraid. It’s no good just bottling it up, and I can’t tell anyone else. You see, it was rather horrid about those Merville people. I don’t know whether she ever meant to sail. I’ve begun to think perhaps she didn’t. Anyhow at the last minute they had a row, and she walked out and took the child. I don’t know if it was a real row. It may have been, because he was awfully worked up. And he didn’t want to let me go—yes, I know—you said so all along, and we quarrelled about it. And you were perfectly right, which is lovely for you but not quite so much fun for me. But that doesn’t matter now. What does matter is this. That Merville man was just slime—he really was. And when he took hold of me I saw scarlet, and, Peter, if I could have got my hands on a pistol I’d have shot him. I would, and I’d have liked doing it.” The colour came into her face just for a moment and then ebbed again.
    Peter controlled his voice to a careless tone.
    â€œA good riddance, but possibly a bit awkward. On the whole, just as well that there wasn’t a pistol.”
    Lee nodded.
    â€œI know. And I got away all right. I threw the big inkstand at him and the ink went into his eyes. I didn’t wait after that.” There was a faint satisfaction in her tone, but the strained note came back again. “I got here, and I was most awfully tired, but I didn’t feel like going to sleep. I rummaged round for a book, and I found a stupid murder story. It really was stupid, and I didn’t get very far with it, because I went to sleep, and the last bit I remember was about a man creeping down a long passage in the dark, and when he’d got about half way he found a pistol, and all at once a door opened at the other end and he saw the most dreadful face looking at him, and he fired at it with the pistol he had just picked up. As if anyone would!”
    â€œWhat has all this got to do with Ross?”
    â€œIt might have started me off dreaming. I did dream, you know, and I did walk in my sleep, and I did go into Ross’s flat. If my footprints were there, it proves that I went in.” Her voice dropped