Free Stranger At Home by George Sanders Page B

mean. The house, the people, the city, all of it. Being Michael Vickers again.”
    Involuntarily his arms tightened around her. “Yes. Very strange.”
    â€œYou must have suffered terribly.”
    â€œNo more than the rest of them.”
    â€œFiddlesticks. They were used to it. You weren’t.”
    â€œThey got just as hungry as I did. And I had the edge on them for size. I found that out on the coffee docks. I could sack and load rings around them.”
    â€œDon’t try to be noble, Pappy. You’d never missed a meal – and good meals, too – nor done a day’s physical work in your life. Don’t tell me it was easy.” She paused, then added softly, “And don’t tell me you weren’t having nightmares about it just before you came in here.”
    He did not answer. She looked down at his face and saw the change come over it. His eyes were closed, but she didn’t need to see into them.
    â€œWas it Harry Bryce?” she asked sadly. “Did you recognize his voice and...” She did not finish.
    Vickers said, “No. I didn’t even see Harry.”
    â€œBut if you had...”
    â€œI couldn’t have recognized his voice. I told you it didn’t sound human. I was crazy with dope. And anyway – not murder. It’s too dangerous, too stupid, and – too quick.”
    He felt her shiver. There was a long silence.
    â€œVick.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI told you the truth about Harry.”
    â€œHe had a lock of your hair.”
    â€œWhy not, if he wanted it? He got it from my hairdresser.”
    Again there was a long pause. Vickers’ head was beginning to ease off. He was warm again. The dream was retreating into the mental cave where it lived. He knew it was there. But when it was decently veiled, the sharp destroying edges of it hidden, he could study it objectively. He could say to himself quite reasonably, I feel like that because , and go on with the nice neat rationalization. It was only when the bloody thing attacked him in his primitive emotions that it got the better of him.
    He put his hand sleepily on Angie’s head, drawing it closer into his neck.
    â€œYou said you’d been trying to find out what really happened to me. Any results?”
    â€œNothing. Except in a negative way. I’m sure Harry Bryce didn’t do it.”
    â€œAny particular reason?”
    â€œYes. Harry’s pretty well gone to pieces in the last year or so. You can’t live at Harry’s rate of speed forever. I’ve made him tell me about the cruise, and your disappearance, over and over when he was far too drunk to have any control over what he said. And he always told the same story. Not in the same words, or the same sequence – sometimes just fragments of it – but he never varied the facts.”
    Vickers thought that over and said, “Mm-hm. And the others?”
    â€œI don’t know. Surely not Job... He’s really a very sweet person, worships his youngsters, puts up with Harriet on account of them. He drinks too much, but with Harriet around, who wouldn’t? And Bill...” She shook her head. “Oh, it’s crazy to think either one of them would do such a thing! People we’ve known so long.”
    Vickers said, “That’s naive, darling. You will never know how naive.” He was drowsy now, delightfully relaxed. He turned slightly, toward Angie, drawing closer to her warmth. “You know, I could see you long before I could remember anything else. I knew your name. Angie. Later on, when my memory was beginning to function by fits and starts, I’d try to think, How did she feel about this thing, or what would she have done about that? And d’you know, Angie, I...”
    â€œI know,” she finished for him. “You couldn’t remember, because you never bothered to find out.”
    â€œI found out a couple of things, though. I spent a lot