“Some things were fun,” she said, and kissed her hand to her reflection.
“Good night, you vain, sweet vision,” I said.
She turned with a small smile and then vanished through the door like a mist drifting away.
I poured out a final drop of the superb brandy, warmed it in my hands, and sipped it.
“Never-never again now win you see a sight like that,” I told myself. “Sic Transit…”
And then, before I should become utterly morbid, I took myself to my more modest bed.
I was stretched in comfort on the edge of sleep when there came a knocking at the door.
“Bill,” said Josella’s voice. “Come quickly. There’s a light!”
“What sort of a light?” I inquired, struggling out of bed.
“Outside. Come and look.”
She was standing in the passage, wrapped in the sort of garment that could have belonged only to the owner of that remarkable bedroom.
“Good God!” I said nervously.
“Don’t be a fool,” she said irritably. “Come and look at that light.”
A light there certainly was. Looking out of her window toward what I judged to he the northeast, I could see a bright beam like that of a searchlight pointed unwaveringly upward.
“That must mean there’s somebody else there who can see,” she said.
“It must,” I agreed.
I tried to locate the source of it, but in the surrounding darkness I was unable to decide. No great distance away, I was sure, and seeming to start in mid-air-which probably meant that it was mounted on a high building. I hesitated.
“Better leave it till tomorrow,” I decided.
The idea of trying to find our way to it through the dark streets was far from attractive. And it was just possible-highly unlikely, but just possible-that it was a trap. Even a blind man who was clever, and desperate enough, might be able to wire such a thing up by touch.
I found a nail file and squatted down with my eye on the level of the window sill. With the point at the file I drew a careful line in the paint, marking the exact direction of the beam’s source. Then I went back to my room.
I lay awake for an hour or more. Night magnified the quiet of the city, making the sounds which broke it the more desolate. From time to time voices rose from the street, sharp and brittle with hysteria. Once there was a freezing scream which seemed to revel horribly in its release from sanity. Somewhere nor tar away there was a sobbing that went on endlessly, hopelessly. Twice I heard the sharp reports of single pistol shots I gave heartfelt thanks to whatever it was that had brought Josella and me together for companionship.
Complete loneliness was the worst stare I could imagine just then. Alone, one would be nothing. Company meant purpose, and purpose helped to keep the morbid fears at bay.
I tried to shut out the sounds by thinking of all the things I must do the next day, and the day after, and the days after that; by guessing what the beam of light might mean, and how it might affect us. But the sobbing in the background went on and on and on, reminding me of the things I had seen that day, and would see tomorrow….
The opening of the door brought me sitting up in sudden alarm. It was Josella, carrying a lighted candle. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she bad been crying.
“I can’t sleep,” she said. “I’m frightened-horribly frightened. Can you hear them-all those poor people? I can’t stand it
She came like a child to be comforted. I’m not sure that her need of it was much greater than mine.
She fell asleep before I did, arid with her head resting on my shoulder.
Still the memories of the day would not leave inc in peace. But, in the end, one does sleep. My last recollection was of remembering the sweet, sad voice of the girl who had sung:
So we’ll go no more a-roving
RENDEZVOUS
When I awoke I could bear Josella already moving around in the kitchen. My watch said nearly seven o’clock. By the time I had shaved uncomfortably in cold water and dressed myself, there was a smell of toast and coffee drifting through the apartment. I found her holding a pan over the oil stove. She had an air of self-possession which was hard to associate with the frightened figure of the night before. Her manner was practical too.
“Canned milk, I’m afraid. The fridge stopped. Everything else is all right, though,” she said.
It was difficult for a moment to believe that the expediently dressed form before me had been the ballroom vision of the previous evening. She had chosen a dark blue skiing suit with white-topped socks rolled above sturdy shoes. On a dark leather belt she wore a finely made hunting knife to replace the mediocre weapon I had found the day before. I have no idea how I expected to find her dressed, or whether I had given the matter any thought, but the practicality of her choice was by no means the only impression I received as I saw her.
“Will I do, do you think?” she asked.
“Eminently,” I assured her. I looked down at myself. “I’d wish I’d had as much forethought. Gents’ lounge suiting isn’t quite the rig for the job,” I added.
“You could do better,” she agreed, with a candid glance at my crumpled suit.
“That light last night,” she went on, “came from the University Tower-at least, I’m pretty sure it did. There’s nothing else noticeable exactly on that line. It seems about the right distance, too.”
I went into her room and looked along the scratch I had drawn on the sill. It did, as she said, point directly at the tower. And I noticed something more. The tower was flying two flags at the same mast. One might have been left hoisted by chance, but two must be a deliberate signal: the daytime equivalent of the light. We decided over breakfast that we would postpone our planned program and make an investigation of the tower our first job for the day.
We left the apartment about half an hour later. As I had hoped, the station wagon, by standing out in the middle of the street, had escaped the attentions of prowlers and was intact. Without delaying further, we dropped the suitcases that Josella had acquired into the back among the triffid gear, and started off.
Few people were about. Presumably weariness and the chill m the air had made them aware that night had fallen, and not many had yet emerged from whatever sleeping places they had found. Those who were to be seen were keeping more to the gutters and less to the walls than they had on the previous day. Most of them were now holding sticks or bits of broken wood with which they tapped their way along the curb. It made for easier going than by the house fronts with their entrances and projections, and the tapping had decreased the frequency of collisions.
We threaded our way with little difficulty, and after a time turned into Store Street to see the University Tower at the end of it rising straight before us.
“Steady,” said Josella as we turned into the empty road. “I think there’s something going on at the gates.” We parked the car and climbed into an adjoining garden whence we could prospect discreetly.
Whatever was going on was right at the front. We managed to find a slightly higher mound which gave us a view of the gates across the heads of the crowd. On this side a man in a cap was talking volubly through the bars. He did not appear to be making a lot of headway, for the part taken in the conversation by the man on the other side of the gates consisted almost entirely of negative headshakes.
“What is it?” Josella asked in a whisper.
I helped her up beside me. The talkative man turned so that we had a glimpse of his profile. He was, I judged, about thirty, with a straight, narrow nose and rather bony features.
What showed of his hair was dark, but it was the intensity of his manner that was more noticeable than his appearance.
As the colloquy through the gates continued to get nowhere, his voice became louder and more emphatic-though without visible effect on the other. There could be no doubt that the man beyond the gates was able to see; he was doing so watchfully, through born-rimmed glasses. A few yards behind him stood a little knot of three more men about whom there was equally little doubt. They, too, were regarding the crowd and its spokesman with careful attention. The man on our side grew more heated. His voice rose as if he were talking as much for the benefit of the crowd as for those behind the railings.