The Man in the Net by Patrick Quentin Read Free Book Online

speech. Let’s go.”
    Mrs. Carey clucked like a flustered hen. Mr. Carey barked, “You’re not going to take that poor child away and brutalize her again!”
    “No,” said Mrs. Carey. “No. Linda dear, you must come home with us.”
    Under half-closed lashes, Linda glanced up at him. The glance lasted only a second but John saw in it the inevitable concomitants of drunken spite—the defiance, the potentials of panic. Have I gone too far this time?
    “Come on,” he said. He knew she would come now, not because he had her in control but because she’d achieved her purpose.
    Slowly she drew herself away from Mrs. Carey. For a moment she stood looking at her, smiling ruefully, the tears shining in her eyes.
    “Darling Mrs. Carey, I’m so terribly sorry. Everyone, I’m so sorry. I’m drunk and I’ve ruined the party. Of course I’m going with John. He’s my husband. I hadn’t any right. .
    She started quickly through the room. She almost stumbled over the slide-projector. Gordon Moreland sprang to help her. Mr. Carey cried, “Linda.”
    “Please.” She brushed Gordon Moreland aside with her hand. “I’m all right. And please—forgive me. John, dear, I’ll wait in the car.”
    She ran up the steps and out through the hall.
    Vickie said, “Brad, go after her. See she’s all right.”
    As Brad hurried out, John said into the glacial silence, “Well, good night, everyone.”
    “That poor child,” said Mrs. Carey into the air in front of her.
    The Morelands had turned their backs on him. Mr. Carey, bristling, at his most imperious, started toward him but, before he could say anything, John moved away up the steps.
    Vickie came with him. When they reached the open front door, Brad hurried from the car to join them.
    “She’s all right, I guess.”
    Vickie asked awkwardly, “Is it true what she said, John?”
    “More or less true.”
    “And you’re going to turn down the offer?” Brad’s voice was faintly incredulous.
    “Yes, I am.”
    Unexpectedly Vickie said, “Don’t let Father and everyone worry you. It’s none of their business. You do what you feel is right.”
    “Yes,” said Brad. “You’ve got to decide for yourself, of course.”
    John turned to look at them through the summer darkness. Had he too surprisingly acquired allies?
    Vickie took his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, John dear. And call us, if you need us. We’re so fond of Linda—and of you.”
    They stood at the door, waving, as he walked across to Linda and the old black sedan.

5
    ON THE DRIVE home up the hill through the woods, dim and unfathomable in the starlight, she sat huddled on her side of the front seat. She didn’t say anything, but he could feel the implacable hostility radiating out from her—and the other thing, too, of course. How am I going to get a drink? That’s what she was thinking. When we get home, he’s going to lock up the liquor. Or had she settled that already? Had she bought a bottle in Pittsfield and got it hidden away somewhere?
    For the first time, John Hamilton was without hope. Always before, unreasonable as it had increasingly become, there had been the feeling that, if he tried hard enough, if he just clung on, life would somehow become workable; she would get a little better, better enough to consent to seeing a doctor, or even worse, worse enough where the whole matter would be taken out of his hands or hers. But now even that frail support was gone because he knew he was running out of strength. He could feel exhaustion in him, paralyzing his will. She was going to fight to the death about the job. He knew it. This was the time when he needed his reserves for an all-out struggle. And there was nothing left. He didn’t care what the Careys thought about him any more than he cared what the village thought about him. He didn’t care whether Linda got to the liquor or didn’t get to it. He didn’t even care about his painting.