"Mary," he pleaded, "read the papers I've given you. Think things
through. I'll wait for you here."
"You can't. My aunts would find you."
"Then I'll go away and come back. About sunset. Will you give me an
answer?"
She looked at him. Suddenly she whirled around. He, too, heard the
_chuff_ of the Essex. "They'll find us," she said. "And if they find
you, I don't know what they'll do. Quick, run!" And she darted off
herself, only to turn back to scramble for the papers.
"But will you give me an answer?" he pressed.
She looked frantically up from the papers. "I don't know. You mustn't
risk coming back."
"I will, no matter what you say."
"I can't promise. Please go."
"Just one question," he begged. "What are your aunts' names?"
"Hani and Hilda," she told him, and then she was gone. The hedge shook
where she'd darted through.
Jack hesitated, then started for the cove. He thought for a moment
of staying on the island, but decided against it. He could probably
conceal himself successfully, but whoever found his boat would have him
at a disadvantage. Besides, there were things he must try to find out
on the mainland.
As he entered the oaks, his spine tightened for a moment, as if someone
were watching him. He hurried to the rippling cove, wasted no time
getting the _Annie O._ underway. With the wind still in the west, he
knew it would be a hard sail. He'd need half a dozen tacks to reach the
mainland.
When he was about a quarter of a mile out from the cove, there was a
sharp _smack_ beside him. He jerked around, heard a distant _crack_ and
saw a foot-long splinter of fresh wood dangling from the edge of the
sloop's cockpit, about a foot from his head.
He felt his skin tighten. He was the bull's-eye of a great watery
target. All the air between him and the island was tainted with menace.
Water splashed a yard from the side. There was another distant _crack_.
He lay on his back in the cockpit, steering by the sail, taking
advantage of what little cover there was.
There were several more _cracks_. After the second, there was a hole in
the sail.
Finally Jack looked back. The island was more than a mile astern.
He anxiously scanned the sea ahead for craft. There were none. Then
he settled down to nurse more speed from the sloop and wait for the
motorboat.
But it didn't come out to follow him.
V
Same as yesterday, Mrs. Kesserich was sitting on the edge of the couch
in the living room, yet from the first Jack was aware of a great
change. Something had filled the domestic animal with grief and fury.
"Where's Dr. Kesserich?" he asked.
"Not here!"
"Mrs. Kesserich," he said, dropping down beside her, "you were telling
me something yesterday when we were interrupted."
She looked at him. "You _have_ found the girl?" she almost shouted.
"Yes," Jack was surprised into answering.
A look of slyness came into Mrs. Kesserich's bovine face. "Then I'll
tell you everything. I can now.
"When Martin found Mary dying, he didn't go to pieces. You know how
controlled he can be when he chooses. He lifted Mary's body as if the
crowd and the railway men weren't there, and carried it to the station
wagon. Hani and Hilda were sitting on their horses nearby. He gave them
one look. It was as if he had said, 'Murderers!'
"He told me to drive home as fast as I dared, but when I got there,
he stayed sitting by Mary in the back. I knew he must have given
up what hope he had for her life, or else she was dead already. I
looked at him. In the domelight, his face had the most deadly and
proud expression I've ever seen on a man. I worshiped him, you know,
though he had never shown me one ounce of feeling. So I was completely
unprepared for the naked appeal in his voice.
"Yet all he said at first was, 'Will you do something for me?' I told
him, 'Surely,' and as we carried Mary in, he told me the rest. He
wanted me to be the mother of Mary's child."
Jack stared at her blankly.
Mrs. Kesserich nodded. "He wanted to remove an ovum from Mary's body
and nurture it in mine, so that Mary, in a way, could live on."
"But that's impossible!" Jack objected. "The technique is being tried
now on cattle, I know, so that a prize heifer can have several calves
a year, all nurtured in 'scrub heifers,' as they're called. But no
one's ever dreamed of trying it on human beings!"
* * * * *
Mrs. Kesserich looked at him contemptuously. "Martin had mastered the
technique twenty years ago. He was willing to take the chance. And so
was I--partly because he fired my scientific imagination and reverence,
but mostly because he said he would marry me. He barred the doors. We
worked swiftly. As far as anyone was concerned, Martin, in a wild fit
of grief, had locked himself up for several hours to mourn over the
body of his fiancee.
"Within a month we were married, and I finally gave birth to the child."