Hell Hath No Fury by Charles Williams 1953(6)

I was third in line, after the two prisoners. I
watched the expressionless black face and the
sightless eyes behind the glasses. What was he
doing? Listening? Smelling? Or could he actually
see? I remembered the way he had tracked me there
in the bank. And then I began to get it. It was the
silence which tipped me off. He was listening to the
breathing of each man when the Sheriff stopped
him.
He stopped in front of me. We were facing each
other in exactly the same way we had in the bank,
and from the same arm’s-length distance. It was
insane. It would make you scream if you didn’t have
good nerves. They were trying to prove I had held up
the bank, and I was standing right there in the midst
of them facing the very man who’d watched me do it
—except that he couldn’t see. But was there
something characteristic about my breathing that
would identify me? My nose was broken; was that it?
I waited, sweating. He moved on to Buck.


Then they were coming back to me again, and I
could see it. They weren’t trying to identify my—they
were trying to make me break. It was just
psychology. A thing like that wouldn’t hold up in
court, but if they could crack my nerve and make me
confess, that would. There’d be any one of a hundred
signals he could give the Negro to tip him when he
was in front of the right man.
They stopped in front of me. The Negro’s face was
blank as death. “Hit sound like him,” he said then.
“You sure, Uncle Mort?” the Sheriff asked.
“Suah sound like him. Got a kind of bleep, like a
teakettle.”
“You’ve heard it before?”
“Heered it twice befoah. One day about three
weeks back, befoah the bank got held up, an’ then
the next time whilst I’m a-standin’ there an’ the man
holdin’ up the bank right in front of me.”
Hell Hath No Fury — 104
“And that first time, there was a fire that day too,
wasn’t there? And nobody in the bank except this
man?”
“Yessuh. That right. I went in to ask Mist’ Julian
wheahabouts the fiah, only he ain’t in theah. Jes’ this
man. Suah sound like him.”
“All right, Uncle Mort. That’s all.” The Sheriff led
him to the door and turned him over to someone in
the hall. Buck went out with the two prisoners.
“Sit down, Madox.” The Sheriff nodded curtly
towards the chair. When I was seated, he said, “All
right. You ready to make a statement now? What did
you do with the money?”
“So we’re back to that again?”
“Why don’t you get wise to yourself, Madox? You
can see we’ve got the goods on you. You just trying
to make it tougher on yourself?”
“No.”
“You heard that Negro. He picked you out of four
men. And he can do it in court.”
“Not without you there to squeeze his arm.”
“I didn’t squeeze his arm. He recognized your
breathing.”
“Bad sweat. What the hell is this, Alice in
Wonderland?”
“Have a little trouble getting your breath, don’t
you, with that broken nose? Ever have a doctor look
at it?”
“No.”
“Probably don’t even notice it yourself, do you?
That little whistle, I mean.”
“Cut it out, will you? So the man who robbed the
bank was breathing.”
He stopped directly in front of me and pointed the
cigar in my face. “Look, Madox. I’m not trying to find
out who robbed that bank. I already know that. And
you know that I know it. Don’t you? So I want to tell
you something. You’re not going to get away with it.
So help me God, I’m going to prove it if it’s the last
Hell Hath No Fury — 105
thing I ever do in this world. We’ll start at the
beginning again. Now tell me where you went when
the fire broke out.”
I sighed. “Over to the fire, like everybody else in
town.”
“I mean exactly where were you? In back of the
building? In front? Out in the street along the side?
Where?”
“In front,” I said. “Where the fire-truck was.”
“Well, how do you account for the fact that out of
over a hundred people I’ve talked to who were
jammed around that fire truck, not one of ‘em saw
you? I mean, until nearly thirty minutes later, when
you made a big show of yourself? Were you hiding
behind something?”
“There was a building burning down,” I Said. “It’s
just possible they were looking at that.”
“All right,” he said. “We’ll disregard that for the
moment. What I want to do right now is clear up a
little point that’s been bothering me from the first.
You were there, you say. Right by the fire-engine all
the time. And we know you’re a hero, just aching to
get in there and help. Tate’s already testified to that
—how you grabbed the hose and made a grandstand
play in front of the whole crowd, after the bank was
robbed. Now what I’d like to find out— and the thing
that’s going to interest the jury—is why you were so
bashful about offering to help during the first few
minutes, when you really could have done
something. You know what I mean, don’t you? But
sure you do. You were there. You admit it yourself.”
He paused, with a little smile around his mouth
again, looking like a cat getting ready to pounce. I
couldn’t do anything but wait for it and pray I’d have
the answer.
“Now we know you were there. And that you were
dying to help. All right.” He swung around and”
pointed the cigar at me and lashed out, “So what
was holding you back when that woman became
hysterical and started screaming that her little boy
was missing and wanted somebody to go in the
Hell Hath No Fury — 106
building and look for him? Why didn’t you step up?
Were you afraid to go in there? Or you just hadn’t
made up your mind to be a hero yet? Like hell! I’ll
tell you why—it was because you weren’t even there,
and you know it. Don’t you?”
I opened my mouth. And then I stopped. I could
smell it. It was a trap. He’d left the door open too
invitingly. But, I thought in an agony of indecision,
what if I was wrong? If I said the wrong thing he had
me nailed right to the cross. But I had to say
something. I took a deep breath and plunged.
“Look,” I said. “I was there the whole time, and I
didn’t even hear any hysterical woman.”
I could see it on his face before he wiped it off. I’d
guessed it right. But how about the next one, and
the one after that, and the one two days from now?
He’d just started to tear into me again when the
telephone rang. He walked over and picked it up.
The room was very quiet. “Yes?” he said.
“Speaking”— “Where?”—”Oh, sure. Sure”—”You’re
certain of it?” He was staring at me, frowning.
“You’re positive of that? And the time?”—”Yes—
three blocks, it wouldn’t take any longer than that.
No, in that case, there couldn’t be any doubt of it. All
right. Thanks.” He hung up.

Suddenly, he looked tired. I waited, almost afraid
to breathe. Who was it? What had he said? I wanted
to jump up and shake it out of him. He looked at
Tate and shook his head wearily, a baffled
expression in his eyes.
“That was George Harshaw,” he said. “Calling
from Galveston. He read about it in the papers. And
he says Madox was definitely at the fire the whole
time.”
Tate was puzzled, too. “Harshaw? I don’t
remember seeing him there. I think I saw her —“
“That’s right. It wasn’t George that saw him. It
was Mrs. Harshaw. She saw him drive up and get
out of his car just as she got there. And it was less
than five minutes after the fire broke out.”
Hell Hath No Fury — 107
12
That was all there was to it. They had to let me go. I
saw his face as he told Tate to give me a lift back to
Lander and it had the expression of a mathematician
who’d just seen it proved that two times three is five,
but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. If
Dolores Harshaw had seen me there at the
beginning he had no case, and he knew it.
“I’m sorry, Madox,” he said stiffly. “There wasn’t
anything personal about it. I’d have picked up my
own brother on the same evidence.”
“What the hell,” I said. “It’s a job, like selling cars.
I’ll tell you one thing, though. If I ever go into the
bank-robbing business, I’ll move out of your county.”
He stared at me thoughtfully. “Yeah. Do that, will
you.”
Tate was silent as we drove back to Lander, and I
didn’t feel like talking either. My mind was too numb
to handle anything except the fact that I was free. It
was dark by the time we got to town and Tate
dropped me off at the rooming house.
I got out. “Thanks,” I said. “So long.”
“I’ll see you.” He lifted his hand and drove off.
I wanted to see Gloria Harper. I’d take a shower
Hell Hath No Fury — 108
and change clothes, and then I’d call her. I’d take
her to dinner at the restaurant. We’d go riding
somewhere. I didn’t do any of it. When I got in the
shower and the warm water hit me I began to
dissolve like a cake of yeast. I hadn’t known how bad
the pressure really was or how tight I’d been until it
started to let go. The reaction unloaded on me, and I
just made it into bed before I quit operating.
I awoke sometime before dawn and sat straight up
in bed, staring. Who was free? Supposing for a
minute that that Sheriff was naive enough to buy
something that easily, which he wasn’t—just what
was Dolores Harshaw selling?
I was still his Number One boy as far as he was
concerned, and if I dug up the money and tried to
leave the country I’d be picked up before I got out of
the state. Maybe he’d just pretended to believe her
so I’d try it.

And that still left her. What did she want?
After a while I dressed and went downtown. Only a
few people were on the street. The waitress did a
double take when I came into the restaurant, and I
knew a lot of people were going to be surprised to
see me around here again. I ordered some breakfast,
and stared at the Houston paper without seeing it.
Why had she done it? She’d said she had seen me
there at the fire a few minutes after it broke out
when she knew damned well she hadn’t; she also
knew something else none of the rest of them did—
that I’d been inside that building and knew what a
firetrap it was. Maybe she had some ideas of her
own. I gave it up and went out into the street. There
was no use knocking myself out worrying about it; I
had a hunch I’d be seeing her soon enough.
Gulick was opening the office. He seemed glad to
see me.
“Did they find out who did it?” he asked
awkwardly.
I went in and sat down on a desk where I could
watch the loan office across the street. “No,” I said.
“I don’t think so. They had some kind of pipe dream
Hell Hath No Fury — 109
I was the one until we finally got it straightened out
that I was at the fire.”
He fidgeted, looking down at his shoes. “I know,”
he said unhappily. “They were here Saturday, asking
about you. I told ‘em just what happened as well as I
could remember. I hope you don’t think I had any
idea like that—“
“Of course not,” I said. “How was business?”
He looked a little more cheerful. “Good. The paper
came out yesterday, with the ad. A lot of people have
been in.”
“Excuse me,” I broke in. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She was coming along the sidewalk on the other side
of the street, very fresh and lovely in the early
morning sunlight.
When she saw me crossing towards her she
stopped, shyness and confusion and a very warm
sort of happiness all, mixed up in her face.
I came up and took her arm. She was still looking
up at me. “Hello,” I said.
“Are you all right, Harry?” she asked eagerly. “I
mean, is everything all right? I’ve been half crazy.
Nobody knew anything, and I couldn’t find out
anything.”
“It’s all right now,” I said. “It was just a mistake.
We got it straightened out.” Somehow, the lies didn’t
seem to matter. I wasn’t really lying, not about
anything between the two of us. I was just
protecting her from something she had no
connection with and which would hurt her if she
knew the truth.
“It was an awful thing for them to do,” she said,
and suddenly her eyes were full of anger. I’d never
seen her that way before. “Wait’ll I get hold of that
Jim Tate. I’ll tell him what I think of him.”
“He wouldn’t mind,” I said. “Not if he could look at
you while you’re telling him.”
“Well, I’d tell him anyway,” she said defiantly, and
then all the vehemence went out of her and she was
just confused and happy. “You’re teasing me.”
Hell Hath No Fury — 110
“No,” I said. “I’m not teasing you.” That terrific
awareness of her began to get the best of me, and I
wanted to take hold of her and kiss her so badly my
arms hurt. She must have seen it in my face.
“Harry, I have to get to work!” she said hurriedly.
I walked with her up to the door. She unlocked it,
and paused a moment in the doorway. “Sometime in
the next year or so it’ll be five o’clock,” I said. “I’ll
see you then.”
She smiled. “I think it could be arranged.”
Somehow the day wore on. The hours dragged, but
never did come to a complete standstill. We were
busy, which helped a little. About three o’clock I
drove back on to the lot after a short ride with a
farmer who wanted a demonstration, and saw her
come out of the office across the street and start up
the sidewalk. I stopped in the middle of my sales
pitch when I saw who was with her. It was Sutton.
The farmer hemmed and hawed and reckoned he’d
have to think it over a little more. “Sure,” I said
impatiently. “O.K. O.K.” I could still see them. They
were turning in at the drugstore. He finally shuffled
off and I slammed the car door shut and started
walking across the street after them.
They were sitting in a booth. She was facing the
front, and as I came through the door I got a glimpse
of her face before she saw me. It was unhappy and
afraid and somehow defenseless, as if she had come
to expect humiliation from Sutton and knew of no
way to escape it. There was something beaten about
it. When she looked up and saw me I could see her
begging me to stay away.
I was in no mood to pay any attention to it. There
was nothing in my mind now except Sutton. I pulled
up a chair and sat down at the end of the table,
glancing at her and then at him.
“Well,” I said, “a little business meeting?”
He nodded affably, and then he said, “Sure. Why
don’t you sit down? Oh, I see you already have.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked.
Hell Hath No Fury — 111
“Not at all.”
I leaned my arms on the table and looked at him.
“You’re sure it’s all right? With you, I mean. You
don’t have any objections?”
“Not a one, pal.”
“Well, that’s nice,” I said. “Isn’t it?” But I knew it
wasn’t any use. Crowding him like that was just a
waste of time. He was too much of the pro. He was
pushing her around for what he could get out of it,
and being jockeyed into a useless fight was only for
suckers.
“Anything I could help with?” I asked.
“No-o, I don’t think so,” he said. Then he looked
across at her and asked, with bland innocence, “Do
you think there’s anything he could help with,
honey?”
Her face was pale and you could see her fighting
to keep from going all to pieces. I began to wonder if
I was being very smart. I was blundering around in
something I didn’t know anything about, and I began
to have a feeling it was too deep to be cleared up by
a kid stunt like slapping Sutton around, even if I
could do it. She could only shake her head.
“Well, I’m sorry, pal,” he said with mock regret.
“You see how it is. Maybe some other time, huh?
We’ll give you a ring.”
“Please, Harry,” she said miserably, “it’s all right.
It’s just a personal matter I have to talk over with
Mr. Sutton.”
“O.K.,” I said. I shook my head and got up. There
wasn’t anything else to do. I looked down at Sutton.
“Sorry we couldn’t do any business.”

“Well, cheer up, pal. There’s days like that,” he
said easily. “I’d cry, but it makes my mascara run.”
I went back to the lot. If she wouldn’t tell me what
it was and didn’t want me mixed up in it, there was
nothing I could do. I groused around the lot the rest
of the afternoon. I already had an idea what it would
be like when I picked her up at five o’clock, and it
was. It was ruined. She was completely different
Hell Hath No Fury — 112
when she had seen Sutton, or even when I
mentioned him. She was tightened up and silent, and
you could sense the desperate unhappiness tearing
her up inside. We stopped on a little country road
and I kissed her, but it wasn’t anything. She was
somewhere else.
“I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “I hate to be such
a wet blanket, Harry. And I was looking forward so
to seeing you.”
I took her face in my hands as I had that night.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s have it.”
She just shook her head with an infinite weariness,
“Don’t you see?” I said. “You’ve got to tell me.
How can I help you if I don’t know what it is?”
“There’s nothing you can do, Harry.”
“The hell there’s not. It’s Sutton, isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, and then she
nodded slowly.
“Well, Sutton puts his pants on one leg at a time,
just like everybody else. All he needs is for
somebody to have a talk with him.”
“No,” she said desperately. “Don’t do it, Harry!
Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because. You have to. You just have to,” she said
pleadingly. “Just give me a little time. Don’t you see?
It isn’t that I don’t want to tell you. I just can’t—not
yet. It’s all so mixed up. I almost go crazy trying to
decide what to do. It was bad enough before, but
now—“
“But now what?” I asked, turning her face so she
had to look at me.
“Now there’s you,” she said simply.
I kissed her and sat there holding her with the top
of the blonde head just under my chin. Her face was
pressed into my shirt and she was crying, quite
silently. I thought of Sutton. If we had much more of
this, something was going to happen to him.
We went to the movies Wednesday night, and she
Hell Hath No Fury — 113
began to snap out of it a little. Neither of us had
seen anything more of Sutton. She was very quiet,
but she didn’t break down any more, and I just gave
her time as she had asked me. I knew she was
fighting it out with herself, and once or twice I had
the feeling she was very near to telling me about it.
She never did quite make it, but I left her alone. I
knew that was what she wanted, and it was
wonderful just being with her.
Gulick and I were busy at the lot, with the cars
moving pretty well, and I was starting to work up
another ad. I thought about the buried money a
hundred times a day, but stayed away from the
place. The uproar over the robbery was dying down
a little, but I knew now I was being watched. The
whole thing telegraphed itself. They’d given up too
easily when they got that phone call from Harshaw.
The alibi she’d handed me was second-hand and
hearsay, coming to them through Harshaw, and yet
they’d just folded up and quit as if she’d already
testified to it under oath. I wasn’t free; I was just
being allowed to run around on the end of a line
until I hanged myself. Well, it was all right; two
could play at that game. As long as I left the money
where it was, I was safe. They had nothing else to go
on, and they’d never find it.
Gulick and I were sitting in the office around four
o’clock Thursday afternoon when the phone rang.
He answered.
“Hello,” he said. “Harshaw’s Car Lot. Hello!
Hello!” Then he put the receiver back in the cradle.
“Wrong number?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “They just hung up.”
About twenty minutes later the same thing
happened again. I began to have a feeling about it
then. The third time it rang he was outside and I
answered myself. My hunch was right.

“It’s about time you answered,” she said. Her voice
was pitched very low and I had a little trouble
hearing it.
“We didn’t expect you back so soon,” I said, giving
Hell Hath No Fury — 114
it the employee-to-boss’s-wife treatment. “I hope you
had a nice trip.”
“Aren’t you cute?” she said. “Cut it out.”
“I didn’t think you’d be back till Monday.”
“I’ll tell you about that. When I see you. Tonight,
that is.”
I looked up just then and saw Gulick coming back
in from the lot. “Well, I don’t know.” I said. “It
depends on how much you want for it. That model’s
three years old.”
She was fast enough on the uptake. “Oh,” she said,
“So old prissy-pants is there?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s right.”
“Well, he can’t hear me. So listen. Go to the same
place you went before—“
Gulick sat down and started reading the paper at
the next desk. “I don’t think we can made any deal
on that basis,” I said.
“Don’t you really?” she asked softly. Something in
her voice told me she was enjoying it.
“No.”
“Well, that is too bad, isn’t it?” she purred. Then
she went on, “Oh, by the way, wasn’t it lucky I saw
you over there the other day at the fire? Just
suppose I’d missed you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said. I could feel the snare
begin to tighten around my neck. It was nylon and
very smooth, and all she was doing was adjusting my
tie for me, the dirty little…
“I did so want to see you,” she said regretfully.
“But of course, if you’ve got another date—“
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. ‘I’ll think it over.”
“You’re so nice. The same time as before, then?”
“Yes.”
“All right. ‘Bye now.”
I was furious as I drove out the highway after dark,
but I was scared too. If it had been dangerous
before, it was suicidal now. There wasn’t only
Hell Hath No Fury — 115
Harshaw and the gossips to think about; there was
that Sheriff. She had furnished me with an alibi, so
how long would it take him to get suspicious if he
even heard of our being seen together? And what
were they doing back here on Thursday, four days
ahead of time? It was funny, too, that he hadn’t
come to the office. The whole thing was crazy.
Just before I turned off at the old gravel pit I
checked the road behind me. There were some other
headlights, two or three sets of them, about a half
mile back. I made my turn anyway, and drove on into
the timber. All the cars went on past without slowing
down. I still wasn’t sure, though, and I felt uneasy.
I drove along the road until I found what I was
looking for, a place where I could pull off into the
trees and get the car out of sight. After I got it
turned around facing the road again I cut the lights
and waited. I’d have a pretty good look at anyone
going past, but there’d be no chance he’d see me
back of that screen of leaves and underbrush.
I lighted a cigarette and smoked it out nervously,
listening to the night sounds and thinking of the
dangerous mess I was drifting further into all the
time. I had twelve thousand dollars I couldn’t touch,
I was crazy about a girl who was in some kind of
trouble she couldn’t tell me about, and I was getting
more hopelessly fouled up every day with this crazy
Dolores Harshaw. I had to ditch her while I was still
able to.
Hell Hath No Fury — 116
13
Minutes dragged by, I finished the cigarette and
crushed it out in the tray. Then I heard a car coming
and could see splashes of light breaking against the
trees. It came up past me and went on. I had a fairly
good look at it and was sure it was the Oldsmobile.
But maybe I’d better wait a few minutes and be sure
she wasn’t being followed. Then I had a better idea;
it couldn’t be over a quarter mile to the old sawmill,
so why not walk? If I heard another car coming I
could jump out of the road and take to the timber.
There wasn’t any other car. My eyes became
accustomed to the sooty blackness under the trees,
and when I came out into the clearing around the
old mill I could see fairly well in the starlight. The
Olds was parked off the road at the edge of the
clearing. She wasn’t in it. Then I spotted her, a
gleam of white over by the old sawdust pile. She was
standing near the back of it, where it slid off into the
shadowy depths of the ravine.
When I came up I saw why she’d been so easy to
see. She was wearing only a pair of brief, palecolored
shorts and a halter, and all that stacked and
uncovered blondeness was almost luminous in the
darkness.
Hell Hath No Fury — 117
She turned when she heard me, and put her arms
up. They tightened around my neck as she came up
against me. You could no more halfway kiss her than
you could fall part way down an elevator shaft and
then change your mind, but even so she knew
something was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t tell me I’m
slipping?”
I drew back a little. “What’d you have to see me
about?”
“Now I’ve heard everything.”
The anger came boiling up in me again. Maybe she
thought she owned me. “Well, if that’s all,” I said,
“let’s get on with it. If we hurry, maybe we can make
the next train home.”
Her palm exploded against my face and made my
eyes sting. I grabbed her arm and tightened up on it.
“Keep your hand to yourself, you little witch,” I said,
“or I’ll break it off.”
“Well, so we’ve got another girl now, have we?”
“And whose business would that be if I had?”
“It might be mine. You ever think of that?”
“It’s not. And I didn’t.”
“You might be surprised.” She looked up at me
with a tantalizing smile. “Now, let’s see. It wouldn’t
be that leggy blonde in the loan office, would it?
What’s her name? Harper? I saw you at the movies
with her. But no, I guess she’s not quite your type.
Pretty, all right, but a little young and watered-down
for you.”

“Knock it off,” I said. “If you wanted to see me
about something, start talking.”
“So it is the little dear?” She laughed. “Well, how
do you like that? She must be the sly one, all right,
with that innocent look. But I guess you can never
tell about that long-underwear type.
I caught myself just in time. I couldn’t let her
needle me into losing my head. There was something
a little too cocky about her which got home to me,
Hell Hath No Fury — 118
even through the blaze of anger, and I had to find
out what she was up to.
“Let’s get down to cases,” I said. “I came out here
to tell you something. Don’t call me up any more. I
don’t like it. And this is the last time I’m going to
meet you out here. You may be crazy, but I’m not. If
you’ve got to play in the sawdust to keep yourself
from jumping at night, go find yourself another boy
friend. I’m through.”
“My goodness,” she said. “You are in a state
tonight, aren’t you? What’s she been doing to you,
taking you to church? Or maybe you’re still a little
nervous?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It must have been just awful. Imagine them
thinking you did it.”
I could feel it coming, but went on playing it
deadpan. “Well, I guess they had to pick up
somebody. But what’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, nothing, I suppose,” she said innocently.
“Except that—Well, I suppose I thought you’d be
glad to see me. After all, I did see you there, and I
was the only one, wasn’t I?”
“Probably others did, and just didn’t remember,” I
said, beginning to sweat. “The fact that you saw me
proves I was there, so there must have been more.”
“But it was so stupid of them not to remember,
wasn’t it?”
“Well, maybe they just didn’t know me.”
“At least, not as well as I do.”
“I can’t see that it matters now, anyway,” I said.
“After all, somebody saw me there, and that settles
it. But don’t think I’m not glad you did. It was a
break for me.”
“Oh, it was for me too,” she said earnestly. “Just
for the sweet things you said. Remember?”
“Oh, sure,” I said.
“I knew you would. It was right at the beginning. I
was watching the fire-engine hook on to the water
Hell Hath No Fury — 119
line, and you came over to where I was standing and
said you’d never seen me looking prettier and that
you wished we were alone. You remember that,
don’t you?”
The dirty, rotten little… “Yes,” I said. “And what
else did I say?”
“Why, let me see now. You said it was funny it was
that building, because we’d just been in it the other
day, and who’d have thought all those old papers
and trash and junk would catch fire like that? Of
course, nobody else knew that—“
“I see,” I said. “It was quite a conversation, wasn’t
it. Was that all?”
“Well, not quite. You said nobody could ever take
my place, and you’d never be able to leave me. I
thought that was awful sweet. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Very sweet. So now let’s cut it out.
What’s the angle?”
“Why, nothing at all, sweet. Except that I’d hate to
think you didn’t mean all those nice things you said
to me.”
“And if I told you to go to hell?”
“Then I’d know I just dreamed the whole thing.
Wouldn’t that be awful?”
She knew she didn’t have to say the rest of it.
Without her alibi I’d be headed right back to the
quiz show and maybe this time they’d break me. She
had me right where she wanted me.
“I love talking to you,” she said, smiling. “We
understand each other so well. You know, in a lot of
ways we’re just alike.”
“Isn’t that nice?” I said.
“Yes, I think so. Now kiss me like a good boy, and
tell me you like me better than that skinny little
owl.”
There was no way to kiss her like a good boy. You
could start out that way, but you always ended up on
the other side of the tracks. If you hated her, it
didn’t make any difference; it worked just the same.
Hell Hath No Fury — 120
“M-m-m!” she said. “See? You do like me, don’t
you?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that funny? I could have sworn you did. But,
honey, before you get carried away with not liking
me, I just remembered there was something I
wanted to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“This will kill you. I think I got caught one of those
other times.”
She had me in such a cross-fire by now I couldn’t
even think. I just looked at her stupidly. “You got
what?”
“Caught. You know. As in caught. I think I’m
pregnant.”
“Well, why tell me? After all, you’re married.”
“I just thought you might be interested.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Look,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
At first I thought she had gone crazy, and then I
was sure of it. She was just staring down into the
ravine. The place we were standing was a little to
one side of the sawdust pile, on the brink of the
ravine itself. The sawdust was stacked up maybe as
high as a two-storey house, and as the pile had
grown and spread while the mill was operating, it
had edged further out all the time until the back
edge of it spilled over the bank. It was very steep
and probably fifty or seventy-five feet to the bottom.
You couldn’t be sure, however. It was very dark
down there in the trees and you couldn’t see the
bottom.
But it was what she did next that got me. She just
jumped, without any warning at all, right out on to
the steep slope of the sawdust. An avalanche of the
stuff carried away and went down with her as she
rolled and slid out of sight into the dense shadow
below me. I stared down, completely speechless with
amazement.
Hell Hath No Fury — 121
She’s a psycho, I thought. She’s completely off her
trolley. One minute she’s a blackmailer as cagey as
Kruschev, and the next she wants to gambol halfnaked
on a pile of sawdust like a babe on an
absinthe jag. It made me cold to think about it. This
was the oversexed and rudderless maniac who could
throw me back to the cops any time.
I looked down and I could see the white gleam of
her in the edge of the shadows, She was trying to
come back up, and she was doing it the hard way.
Instead of going down the ravine to a place she
could walk out, she was trying to climb right up that
steep incline of loose sawdust. She was sinking in it
halfway up her thighs, like a man walking in deep
snow, and every few feet she’d start a new
avalanche and lose the little she’d gained. It was
man-killing work. She fought it with a fury I didn’t
know she had in her. Every time she’d slide back
she’d tear into it again, lifting her legs high and
battling it. It would have killed anyone with a bad
heart. I watched her fight her way up the last few
feet and then collapse exhausted on the edge of the
slope. The labored sound of her breathing seemed to
fill the night.
“Well!” She stopped and took a long, shaky breath.
“How was that?”

“All right, I guess, if you enjoyed it.”
“Enjoyed it? Are you silly!”
“Well, what’d you do it for?”
“Don’t be stupid, darling. I just told you.”
Suddenly the light burst on me. She hadn’t blown
her top at all. The whole thing had been quite sane
and deadly.
“You mean, just throwing yourself down the hill
like that—?”
She laughed then. “No, dear. Not falling down the
hill. Climbing back up.”
“Are you sure?”
‘It always works for me. I’m lucky that way.”
It began to come home to me then that maybe I
Hell Hath No Fury — 122
didn’t know all there was to know about her. I began
to sense a steel-trap deadliness of purpose operating
somewhere behind that baby stare and sensuous
face. She was as tough as a shark, and she got what
she wanted. She’d be hard to whip, because she got
fat on her enemies. She got in trouble on a sawdust
pile, so she used the sawdust pile to cure it.
She motioned to me to squat down beside her.
“Light me a cigarette, Harry?” she said.
I got one out, and in the brief, yellow flare of the
match she looked up at me with eyes that were
almost black. Her face and body were shiny with
sweat, and sawdust was sticking to her and to her
clothes.
She glanced down at herself. “Damn,” she said. “I
should have taken them off, shouldn’t I?”
She reached coolly around behind her and
unsnapped the halter and slipped out of it. She
shook it, and then brushed carelessly at the sawdust
on her breasts. I was still holding the cigarette and
the match. She looked up at my face and smiled at
what she saw there, then reached out and took the
cigarette from me. The match burned down and
scorched the ends of my fingers. I cursed, my voice
sounding strange and almost unrecognizable.
“Poor old Harry,” she said tantalizingly, out of the
sudden darkness. “He doesn’t like me.”
“You lousy little witch,” I said, trying to talk past
the choking tightness in my throat. “What’s it got to
do with liking you?”
“I told you we were a lot alike, didn’t I?”
“Yes. And don’t do it again.”
I saw the red trail of the cigarette as she threw it
out into the darkness of the ravine. She took hold of
my hand and placed it against her cheek. “Lean
down, Harry. You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
I leaned down. I couldn’t help it. There was a
roaring like a big river inside my head. I shifted the
hand down to her throat. “I’ll kill you,” I said. “So
help me, I’ll kill you.”
Hell Hath No Fury — 123
“No, you won’t,” she said softly. “Not now. Just
kiss me now.”
Her arms went up around my neck and tightened.
And then we were slipping over the edge. Another
big slide of sawdust gave way and we were halfburied
in it, locked together and tumbling, sliding,
rolling over and over all the way to the bottom. We
came to rest somewhere at last and the world
stopped whirling and settled into place. Her arms
were still tight around me and her lips were against
my ear. They were moving, and the whisper was
ragged and frantic, and then incoherent in its
urgency. It was very dark there in the ravine under
the trees. It was just as well.
“And you thought you could leave me.”
I lay there, hating her, not touching her but
knowing how near she was in the darkness. I didn’t
say anything.
“You and that prissy little owl. That Sunday-school
kid. You think you could leave me for her?”
“I told you. I’m through. This is the last time.”
“That’s what you think.
“About us. We belong together. If you left me,
you’d come back. What’s the use of trying to kid
yourself? We’re just two people who take what we
want, and we belong together. We need each other.
You said I was a tramp; well, did you ever stop to
think you’re one too?”
“So you admit it? Why’d you throw an ice-cube
tray at me that night?”
“I’m just touchy when I’m drunk. I don’t know
why. I always suspect everybody of thinking I’m a
bitch. And when I’m sober I couldn’t care less.”
“Well, that’s a break.”
“Why?”
“Is there anybody who thinks you’re not one?”
“You couldn’t prove it by me. But I do all right. So
do you. I know what I want, and I get it.”
Hell Hath No Fury — 124
“Well, let’s get something straight. You think I’m
going to marry you? Haven’t you forgotten
something?”
“What’s that?”