Lindsay had taken it from him and was saying in her efficient secretary voice, 'I wonder if I could have a word with Miss Emma Sands, if she's with you, please?
There was a pause. Randall began to see the drawing-room again.
Lindsay had spoken to Ann. It was the sort of impossible event which ought to bring the world automatically to an end.
Lindsay thrust the telephone urgently into his hand. After a moment he heard, unmistakably, Emma's voice saying, 'Hello. This is Emma Sands. And after another moment, 'Hello. Who is that speaking? He gave the instrument back to Lindsay.
'It's me, Emma dear, Lindsay. Pause.
'Oh, quite as might be expected. Pause.
'Yes, as it turned out. I hope you had a comfortable journey? Pause.
'Are you alone? Pause.
'I wonder if you know now what time you'll be back? That's what I really rang About.
Pause.
'Yes, I'll do your sandwiches and milk as usual. Be well and bless me.
Pause.
'Good-bye, darling.
Lindsay put the phone back and looked triumphantly at Randall. 'There!
Randall stared at her, his big face wrinkled up in anxiety and horror.
This latest piece of sorcery had confused him utterly. He was almost ready to believe that the sound of Emma's voice which he had heard was an auditory hallucination induced by Lindsay. And what is the significance of the telephone conversation? What had happened in the gaps? He felt obscurely that some outrage had been committed against Grayhallock and thus against himself. He said, 'What were you talking About?»
'Well, you heard!
'I heard your half of it!
'She just asked how I was getting on without her and said she'd had a nice journey and that she'd be back about eight and would I do her sandwiches, and that was all.
'Was it? said Randall. 'Did she say she was alone?
'She said she wasn't sure.
'Oh Christ! said Randall. He supposed by now Ann must know all about him and Lindsay, somebody must have told her. Why did Ann have to intrude on this day of all days? He simply hadn't wanted to think about whether she knew or not. And she must have guessed it was Lindsay on the telephone, even if Emma didn't tell her.
'I feel sick, said Randall..
'Darling, have some sense, have some backbone! said Lindsay. 'At least you know now that Emma won't walk in on us. Hasn't ringing up made everything better?
'No, it's made everything worse, said Randall. He went over to the window and looked out. The sun shone on the dusty twisted group of evergreens, huddling together like captives.
There was a silence. Lindsay said harshly, 'Don't think I don't perfectly realize that you can drop me at any minute you please and go back to your snug cosy set-up at Grayhallock. Your dear dutiful wife is waiting for you. Why don't you go?
'For Christ's sake, said Randall, 'don't torture me. I love you to distraction. You know that perfectly well. He turned and came down the room towards her. She was leaning back in Emma's chair and had drawn out a long tress of hair and was pulling it through her fingers. The hem of the brown linen dress skirted her knees.
Randall dropped on the ground before her. He did not touch her.
He said, 'Listen, Lindsay, I absolutely beseech you not to persecute me now. I've been under the most terrible strain.
'All right, she said. She looked at him coolly and began to loop the tress of hair round her wrist. 'But you've so long been shouting that you wanted me. And now when I positively offer myself you seem to be thinking better of it. I'm not sure how long the offer will remain open. So you'd better watch your step. That's all.
'I'm not thinking better of it! said Randall frantically. 'I'm —’ How could he explain? He was terrified of making some dreadful irreparable blunder. 'It's not that I believe that Emma really arranged all this —
'What do you mean, that Emma really arranged all this? Are you mad?
'I'm saying I don't believe it—
'Well, why mention it then? Randall, you're beginning to rave. She pushed him aside as he now ineffectually clasped at her knees, and stood over him.
'Help me, Lindsay.
'You don't deserve it, she said. 'For being so abject you deserve spurning, you deserve whipping. However, I'll do one more thing for you, one last thing. Get out of the way.
Randall removed himself on hands and knees and then got up. Lindsay went on, 'You said once you'd like to know what we were like when you weren't there. Well, now I'm going to show you. Randall watched her open-mouthed, his hands hanging. He was prepared for anything, for a strange darkening of the room and the appearance in luminous effigy of a magical Emma and Lindsay.
Lindsay pulled the tape-recorder out from where it was nestling under the frill of Emma's chair. Crouched above it she examined it and adjusted the tape. Then she set it going. With hypnotic slowness the two wheels began to revolve. She turned her eyes, sombre and stern upon Randall. After a moment the silence of the attentive room was broken by Emma's voice.
'If you're going to do it it's got to be now. There's no time for theory now, no time for ifs and buts. You're in the dark, and you must go forward in the dark. »
'Look here —’ said Randall.
•'That's the novel, you fool, said Lindsay. 'The real bit comes in a minute.
'God! said Randall. He wiped his face all over with a handkerchief 'She» didn't know you were recording it, the real bit?
'Of course not. Otherwise what would have been the point? I fiddled with the machine and pretended to switch it off but didn't.
Emma's voice continued. 'As he debated, his hand was already cur ling round the gun in his pocket. He who hesitates is lost and Marcus Boode had no intention of being that. Reason and hope of support lay behind him. Before him, somewhere in that uninviting labyrinth, was the murderer of Sebastian Leech. He shrugged, and glided on to the head of the downward-plunging stairs.
There was a pause during which the tape-recorder murmured quietly. Then in another tone Emma' spoke again. 'Lord, what stuff —
Lindsay's voice said, 'You're tired, my dear. Don't forget you're going to Kent tomorrow. Time to knock off, yes? Would you like some whisky in your hot milk? Lovely whisky, yes?
'No, darling, no whisky. Well, perhaps a little. I hope you'll be all right here all alone.
'I hope you'll be all right. It's a long time since the old mole left its burrow. I shall be fine. Really, darling, you can't look after me all the time!
'Mmm. Can't I? Ah well. It's hard luck on young Randall that he's got to be out of harm's way. He might have given you lunch and spoilt you a little. Or is it just as well, eh, little fox?
'There you go! Yes, poor Randall was nearly in tears about it.
'We'll deal with Randall, we'll cheer him up when I get back. He'll be all right, oh yes, Randall will be all right.
Lindsay switched the tape off and rose to her feet. As if automatically overbalanced by her movement Randall sank into a chair. Hands on hips she looked down at him with an air of scornful triumph. 'You see how well I look after you!
'You could have faked that, said Randall.
'Oh, break it up, boy! said Lindsay. She kicked his ankle hard.
'I don't know. I'm going crazy, said Randall. He supported his head in one hand and rubbed his ankle with the other. Once the possibility that Lindsay, even though through some kind of hideous tortuous benevolence, were deceiving him had been admitted to the extent of seeking proofs of her innocence, her innocence became so precisely unprovable that he was prepared to believe himself the victim of some unimaginably motivated hoax. Lindsay might have faked the tape, putting together remarks which belonged in other conversations. It was apparently quite easy to do this. Or she might really have had this conversation with Emma — and then told Emma afterwards that Randall was not in fact going away. Or they might cold-bloodedly have play-acted the scene together, laughing about it afterwards over their whisky. There were dozens of possibilities. After all, Lindsay had cooperated cheerfully for nearly a year in Emma's play of making a lap-dog of him. But then after all so had he!