The Sundial (15 page)

“I am sure that Mrs. Halloran could not have said anything of the sort. We are going back to the house, right now, and make sure about this. And when Mrs. Halloran hears—”

“‘We are going back to the house right now and make sure about this,'” he said in a high false voice. And then, “How?”

“Why . . .” Julia turned; the gates behind her were locked. One of the gardeners had met her at the gates, unlocked them for her, and seen her out, and she had supposed vaguely that the man was still around, prepared to unlock the gates again for the captain. When she called, however, and shook at the gates, there was silence, and no movement, beyond the faint reflection of the one light onto the scrolled H on either half of the gates.

“Whyn't you climb over?” said the driver, and snickered.

“I want you to take me directly into the village to a telephone. She can't treat me like this.”

“Well, now, I guess I couldn't rightly do
that.
Mrs. Halloran,
she
said take you to the city.”

“But
I
say—”

“Now,
you
know Mrs. Halloran,” he said, in a horrid wheedling voice, “what you think happens to
me
if she says take you to the city and then I turn around and take you somewheres else? Dearie,” he said, “it's the city or nothing, see? And it's going to rain, and the way
I
see it, if you was really to ask
my
opinion, either you get in the car with me and we go along to the city like she said, or
I
go home and you stay right here until Mrs. Halloran makes up her mind you should go somewheres else. And
if
you stay here,” he went on, still in that disagreeable, almost triumphant voice, “and it's going to rain, and you're going to get wet, it'll be a mighty long time before morning when someone comes along to open these here gates. So now why don't you be a nice reasonable girl and come get in the car with me?”

Julia, who did not often cry, was only prevented now by a black determination to hide from this creature, and so from Mrs. Halloran, that she was frightened, and bewildered, and lonely. “I'll go to the city,” she said. “I can telephone Mrs. Halloran from the hotel, anyway, and when I do,” she said, putting her hand on the doorhandle of the car, “do not suppose that I am going to praise the way you have behaved. I intend to tell her everything you have said.”

“What'd
I
say?” he demanded, whining. “All I said was I got to do what Mrs. Halloran
tells
me. Where'd I get if I didn't do what Mrs. Halloran tells me? Now you get in like a good girl and we let bygones be bygones.”

There was only one place in the car for Julia to sit, and that was in front next to the driver. The back of the car, seatless, seemed to be filled with old bottles and pieces of chain, which rattled and clanked disturbingly as the car began a slow crawl away from the main gates of the house.

“Better tell you right off,” the driver said, “this is going to cost you twelve dollars.” He had clearly started to say “ten” and then changed his mind, and the sharp break in the word seemed to amuse him, as though he had no need for dissimulation. “Twelve,” he repeated enjoyably. “Don't go into the city this time of night for
nothing,
you know.”

“Mrs. Halloran will pay you.”

The man sneaked a sideways look at her. “Mrs. Halloran, she said something funny about that. She said she had left money for you, and you would pick it up and be the one paying me.”

“Oh.” The car picked up speed reluctantly, shaking itself as though ready to balk and throw its riders, but the big man held it down firmly and after a moment they went more evenly along the road. Julia intended that there should be no further conversation between herself and the unattractive driver, but he spoke chattily, raising his big voice without effort over the clatter of the motor, “What you going to the city for?”

“Because I choose to,” Julia said childishly. She turned pointedly as though she were going to look out of the window, although there was no window on her side at all, and the wind came disagreeably in on to her face; she could feel the first stinging raindrops. She turned her jacket collar up and hunched her shoulders around her ears, in a feeble defense against the rain on one side and the conversation on the other. “Going to take the money I get from you,” the big man said placidly—he smelled musty, Julia thought, and foul—“and buy me some chickens. Got a little place for them out back of my house. I live in the village, of course.” He waited for some comment from Julia, and then went on, “Going to sell the eggs, maybe bring 'em up to the big house, sell 'em to old lady Halloran.” They were moving steadily upward, and Julia remembered the soft lines of hills visible from the windows of the big house; not long ago, while she was in her room packing, she had seen the hills from her window and told herself joyfully that beyond them lay the city; “Tonight I will be there myself,” she had thought, hugging herself ecstatically.

Peering through the rain, Julia thought she could distinguish a cleft in the line of the hills and although she did not want to speak she finally asked, “Is that where we're going? Through that sort of pass?”

“That's right,” said the driver. “City's on the other side. Funny thing about that pass,” he continued affably, “always full of fog. Down here, rain or hot or sunshine, but up there it's always fog. Something to do with the hills.”

“Is it far?”

“Another five miles, maybe. Then another seven, eight, miles to the city. They call it Fog Pass,” he added, as one explaining something uniquely reasonable. When Julia was silent again he went on. “Caught a rabbit up there once. It got so mixed up in the fog it didn't even see me coming. Stood right there on the road watching me like it didn't know what I was. Ran smack over it with the car.”

Julia turned slightly and let the wind drive the rain against her face. “Funny thing about rabbits,” he said. “Most people think they're lucky.
That
one wasn't lucky,” and he laughed. He had clearly reached a subject very dear to his heart, because he went on contentedly, “Killed some kittens once, my old lady had a cat always having kittens and this time I told her I'd get rid of the things for her. Cut off their heads with my pocket knife.”

Julia, thinking: I will go to the biggest lightest hotel and telephone my mother, was silent.

“Got rid of some puppies by pouring kerosene on them and lighting—”

“Please don't,” Julia said violently, and he laughed.

“Didn't know
you
'd be bothered,” he said. “Folks do things like that all the time. Why, I knew an old man once lived up in these hills about a mile and
he
used to catch rats and—”

“Please,” Julia said.

“I could tell you things I saw in the army,” he said. “
Everybody
knows about
them,
pretty funny, too, sometimes. You just touchy or something?”

“I don't like to hear about it,” Julia said.

“Well, if you don't have to
watch,
I wouldn't guess you'd mind.” He seemed to be puzzled. “Why,” he said, “my old lady was right there when I cut up them kittens. She didn't mind.”

“How much further is it to the pass?”

“Mile or so. You're anxious to get to the city, I guess?”

“I certainly am.”

“What you going there
for?
”

“I have an appointment,” Julia said wantonly.

“Who with?”

“A friend.”

“That so? What about that feller you thought was coming with you? The one Mrs. Halloran told me not to take? Where's
he
come in?”

“Look,” Julia said, turning to look at him, “I'm sick and tired of answering your questions and listening to your dirty talk. You just leave me alone.”

“Did I touch you?” he asked, indignant. “I'll leave you alone all right, dearie, Mrs. Halloran she didn't say nothing to me about
not
leaving you alone, I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. Or maybe,” he went on slyly, “you was asking? Because I got no
reason
to be coming back tonight. I kind of like the city.” He thought, grinning to himself. “Oh, it wouldn't
cost
you any more,” he assured her. “I might even buy you a beer or maybe two.” Turning her back to him coldly, Julia put her face into the rain from the window. “Once I get that twenty bucks from you—” he said.

“You told me twelve,” said Julia, startled into speech.

“Must of misunderstood me,” he said calmly. “Happen to know it's a twenty dollar fare to the city. Might even be twenty-five before we get there,” he said, and laughed. “You want to stop for a little while?”

“No,” Julia said.

He laughed again. “You'd maybe rather walk?” he asked.

They turned a curve, still going uphill and came suddenly into fog; it was not fog like any Julia had ever seen, but rather an impenetrable, almost tangible, weight of darkness pressing down upon them. She could smell its faint smoky atmosphere, even over the odors of filth and decay coming from the man next to her, and he slowed the car down until it was barely moving. “Got to take it easy along here,” he said. “Hills on one side, downhill on the other. Go off the road
that
way, you run into a hill, go off the road
that
way, you'll likely hit a tree or something, and just end up in the river way down below.”

“Are you sure you know the road?”

“Do it blindfold.” He chuckled. “
Doing
it blindfold,” he said. “Right here's where I run over the rabbit. Fog lifted a minute and there he was.” He laughed again. “Did you say you'd rather get out and walk?” he asked.

When Julia did not answer, he suddenly put his foot down and the car stopped. “Now,” he said, and his voice was still friendly, “now you give me the money or we don't go no further. We maybe don't go no further
any
way,” and he touched her on the back with his great dirty hand.

Julia caught her breath. “Don't be silly,” she said sharply. “Do you think I'm going to let you get away with anything?”

“Fierce,” he said approvingly. “Ever tell you what I done with a dog bit me once?”

“Mrs. Halloran—” Julia began.

“What she don't know won't hurt
her.
And anyway,
you
don't matter to
her.
She won't care, don't worry.”

“When I tell Mrs. Halloran—”

“Now who's being silly?” He reached across her and opened the car door on her side. “You don't want to pay for your ride?” he asked, “you don't get no ride. And
I
'll tell the old lady all about it.”

Julia hesitated, looked at him, saw him grinning dimly in the fog, and, terror-stricken, slid out of the car on her side. When she turned back to look at him she thought that the look on his face was one of dismay that she had called his bluff, and, standing on the road, she said, “I'll just walk along the road until some other car comes by. You've just lost yourself some money, mister.”

“You get back in the car,” he said. “Pay me my money and there won't be no trouble.”

“Find someone else to steal from,” Julia said. “Go home and tell Mrs. Halloran you didn't get the money. Go home and torture your cats and dogs and leave decent people alone.” She slammed the car door and turned away from the car. For a minute she thought he was going to get out of the car and follow her, but he leaned forward and said anxiously, “Listen, miss, you better get back in the car.”

He's frightened, Julia thought. She smiled and said, “I will give you exactly one dollar to drive me to the city.”

“Now you
know
you're asking for trouble,” he said, and this time he opened the door of the car as though prepared to get out. Thoughts of the rabbit and the kittens were vivid in Julia's mind, and she backed up and moved away from the car. Clinging to her pocketbook, stumbling a little, she ran, thinking as she did so that it was ludicrous for someone who had been not an hour ago in the big house to be so taken in, to be running in frantic terror down a lonely, foggy road. Behind her she heard him calling “Miss?” and she stood still, afraid to make another sound.

It came to her then with a pang of elementary fear that it was only necessary to step a few feet in any direction to disappear completely into the fog. She turned, almost ready to make a compromise somehow with the driver, and found that the road and the car had gone into the fog and that although she knew precisely in which direction she had moved, her faulty feet and blind eyes would not lead her back. She called carefully, “Mister?” and then thought, the fog muffling her voice and coming into her mouth, that perhaps he might yet find her by her voice, come silently up behind her in the fog and never give her a chance to tell him that he might have all her money if he wanted. She stood perfectly still, listening, and then turned to see if he was behind her. When she saw nothing she began to move cautiously. Better to take a chance on another car coming by, she thought, sooner or later someone will come along. She tripped over a rock and hurt her ankle and the noise held her motionless until she was sure that he had not heard her, was not moving softly through the silent fog.

A vague idea of her surroundings stayed with her; in back of her, approximately, was the road and on it the car; she was perhaps ten feet to the side of the road—too close, perhaps, to the sharp drop down to the river, but only just far enough from the driver for safety. There should be about fifteen feet on the side of the road before the slope down to the river became really steep, and on the other side—she hoped suddenly and fervently that it
was
the other side—there was a fairly wide space before the sharp rise of the hills.