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knew how. "You must have had a cold trip."
I wiped my feet on the doormat. "It wasn't so bad. I enjoy adverse
conditions."
Inside, Mrs. Tandy took my coat, and it was warm and firelit and cheerful. The
long sitting room was crowded with homely antiques -- big colonial easy chairs
and sofas, brass lamps, and plenty of ornaments and pictures of rural scenes.
"Would you care for some hot chowder?" asked Mrs. Tandy, and I could have
kissed her.
I sat down in front of the fire. Jeremy Tandy poured me a large whiskey while
his wife busied herself in the kitchen.
"How's Karen?" I asked him. "Is she still improving?"
Jeremy Tandy nodded. "She can't walk yet, but she's putting on weight and
she's much more cheerful. You can go up and see her later. She's been looking
forward to this visit all week."
I sipped whiskey. "So have I," I said, a little tiredly. "I haven't been
sleeping too well since this thing was over."
Jeremy Tandy lowered his head. "Well -- no -- none of us have."
We made small talk for a while, and then Mrs. Tandy brought me the chowder. It
was good and hot and thick, and I sat by the crackling fire and ate it
gratefully.
Later, I went upstairs to see Karen. She was peaky and pale, but her father
was right. She was putting on weight, and she was going to recover. I sat on
the end of her country-quilted walnut bed, and we talked about her hobbies,
and her future, and everything in the world except Misquamacus.
"Dr. Hughes told me, privately, that you were very brave," she said after a
while. "He says that what really happened was nothing like the newspaper
stories at all. He said that nobody would have believed them if they'd told
the truth."
I took her hand. "The truth isn't very important. I can't really believe the
truth myself."
She gave me a small, friendly smile. "I just wanted to say thank you, anyway,
because I do think I owe you my life."
"Don't mention it. Maybe you can do the same for me one day."
I stood up. "I have to go downstairs now. Your mother told me not to tire you
out. I think you're going to need all the rest you can get."
"Okay," she laughed. "I'm getting a little bored with all this mollycoddling,
but I guess I'll have to put up with it."
"If you need anything, just tell me," I said. "Books, magazines, fruit. Just
say the word."
I opened the door to leave, and Karen said: "De boot, mijnheer."
I froze. I felt as if a pair of cold hands had been laid on my back. I turned
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around and said: "What did you say?"
Karen was still smiling. She said: "Be good, my dear. That's what I said. Be
good, my dear."
I closed the door of her room. Outside, on the landing, it was silent and
dark. The old colonial house creaked under the weight of the winter's show.
"That's what I thought you said," I whispered to myself, and went downstairs.
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