Then she added before he could speak, “But why are you so set on going back to England now?”
“Because I’m at breaking point. I can’t stick it any longer, Evelyn. I can’t.” The quiet Edward Hillingdon was transformed. His hands shook, he swallowed, his calm unemotional face seemed distorted by pain.
“For God’s sake, Edward, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter except that I want to get out of here—”
“You fell wildly in love with Lucky. And now you’ve got over it. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. I don’t suppose you’ll ever feel the same.”
“Oh let’s not go into that now! I want to understand what’s upsetting you so much, Edward.”
“I’m not particularly upset.”
“But you are. Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, it isn’t,” said Evelyn. “Let’s put it in plain concrete terms. You’ve had an affair with a woman. That happens often enough. And now it’s over. Or isn’t it over? Perhaps it isn’t over on her side. Is that it? Does Greg know about it? I’ve often wondered.”
“I don’t know,” said Edward. “He’s never said anything. He always seems friendly enough.”
“Men can be extraordinarily obtuse,” said Evelyn thoughtfully. “Or else— Perhaps Greg has got an outside interest of his own!”
“He’s made passes at you, hasn’t he?” said Edward. “Answer me—I know he has—”
“Oh yes,” said Evelyn, carelessly, “but he makes passes at everybody. That’s just Greg. It doesn’t ever really mean much. I imagine. It’s just part of the Greg he-man act.”
“Do you care for him, Evelyn? I’d rather know the truth.”
“Greg? I’m quite fond of him—he amuses me. He’s a good friend.”
“And that’s all? I wish I could believe you.”
“I can’t really see how it can possibly matter to you,” said Evelyn dryly.
“I suppose I deserve that.”
Evelyn walked to the window, looked out across the veranda and came back again. “I wish you would tell me what’s really upsetting you, Edward.”
“I’ve told you.”
“I wonder.”
“You can’t understand, I suppose, how extraordinary a temporary madness of this kind can seem to you after you’ve got over it.”
“I can try, I suppose. But what’s worrying me now is that Lucky seems to have got some kind of stranglehold upon you. She’s not just a discarded mistress. She’s a tigress with claws. You must tell me the truth, Edward. It’s the only way if you want me to stand by you.”
Edward said in a low voice: “If I don’t get away from her soon—I shall kill her.”
“Kill Lucky? Why?”
“Because of what she made me do . . .”
“What did she make you do?”
“I helped her to commit a murder—”
The words were out. There was silence. Evelyn stared at him. “Do you know what you are saying?”
“Yes. I didn’t know I was doing it. There were things she asked me to get for her—at the chemist’s. I didn’t know—I hadn’t the least idea what she wanted them for. She got me to copy out a prescription she had . . .”
“When was this?”
“Four years ago. When we were in Martinique. When—when Greg’s wife—”
“You mean Greg’s first wife—Gail? You mean Lucky poisoned her?”
“Yes—and I helped her. When I realised—”
Evelyn interrupted him. “When you realised what had happened, Lucky pointed out to you that you had written out the prescription, that you had got the drugs, that you and she were in it together? Is that right?”
“Yes. She said she had done it out of pity—that Gail was suffering—that she had begged Lucky to get something that would end it all.”
“A mercy killing! I see. And you believed that?”
Edward Hillingdon was silent a moment, then he said: “No—I didn’t really—not deep down. I accepted it because I wanted to believe it—because I was infatuated with Lucky.”
“And afterwards—when she married Greg—did you still believe it?”
“I’d made myself believe it by then.”
“And Greg—how much did he know about it all?”
“Nothing at all.”
“That I find hard to believe!”
Edward Hillingdon broke out: “Evelyn, I’ve got to get free of it all! That woman taunts me still with what I did. She knows I don’t care for her any longer. Care for her? I’ve come to hate her! But she makes me feel I’m tied to her by the thing we did together.” Evelyn walked up and down the room then she stopped and faced him.