Free Evidence of Things Seen by Elizabeth Daly Page A

should turn cool later, and a sweater for her feet, and joined Hunter in the living room.
    â€œI’ve made the rounds again upstairs,” he told her, “and locked all the doors. The window screens are pretty tight; we’ll all hear it if anybody tampers with them. ”
    â€œOh, thank you, Phin. I don’t know how to thank you.”
    â€œI have an idea that that woman in the sunbonnet is badly on your nerves.”
    â€œShe isn’t now.”
    â€œLook here; would you like a shakedown on this decent-looking sofa? Instead of going up to your own room for this two-hour nap you’re going to have?”
    â€œI meant to sneak down after you were safely shut up in your room. I was ashamed to tell you and Fanny.”
    â€œShh. Fanny needn’t know.” His dark, humorous face smiled down at her. “Get your things. I won’t be more than a few steps away; you can doze in peace.”
    She rushed upstairs, dragged bedding off the bed, got into a bathrobe, and was back again. Hunter helped her to make up the sofa, and then, with a parting wave of encouragement, went into the blue room and shut the door.
    This was better than she had hoped. She peeped around the edge of the door at Fanny, who was apparently quite comfortable, absorbed in her book; then she lay down on the sofa, her watch under the pillow. It seemed only a minute or two before she was waked by the sound of Fanny getting out of her chair.
    She went into the dining room. Fanny, looking sleepy, was surprised to see her.
    â€œWhy, Clara, can you wake yourself? I was just going to call you.”
    â€œI didn’t want you to sit up beyond your time.”
    â€œNo danger of that!” Fanny laughed softly. “I should have been asleep in a minute. I went in twice to look at her; she’s all right.”
    â€œWell, here’s your candle now.” Clara lighted one. “You’ve done your share—ever so much more than your share. I’d go up with you, but I hate to leave her, even for a minute.”
    â€œThere’s one thing—if you get frightened, you won’t have to call very loud to wake Phin, or any of us!”
    â€œNo.”
    Fanny climbed the stairs to her landing. Clara went into the little green bedroom; she had no intention, had never had any intention of keeping her watch outside its door; she meant to keep it in the wicker chair beside the night table. If Miss Radford should open her eyes, she would know in one moment that Clara was there.
    The bed was placed along the east wall, under the screened window, and facing the door that went nowhere. This presented a front as blank and solid as the wall, and no less reassuring. Miss Radford was sleeping calmly, her face turned away from the light; Clara tilted the shade a little more, to cast her deeper in shadow and give herself plenty of light for her crossword puzzle. She sat down and opened the book.
    But she could not concentrate on her puzzle; she could not look away from the bony profile on the pillow, yellow against white; from the little gauze and plaster patch on the scratched and wrinkled cheek, the thin ridge of nose, the deep eye socket. She could not help listening to Miss Radford’s deep breaths. She could not help wondering what Miss Radford’s dreams were, if murder had really been committed in this room twelve months before.
    I have a neurosis, she thought. If Henry were here he would laugh at me; there are no ghosts. That woman in the sunbonnet probably lives in the Simms attic, and gets out now and then; you hear of such things—feeble-minded relatives the family keeps locked up and won’t tell about. There’s more than one purple dress and sunbonnet in the world, and Maggie tinkers with the attic door and then forgets she left it open.
    Well, one thing was certain; Clara wasn’t going to give in and talk about ghosts to Phineas Hunter; that was something you never lived down. How