The Outsider (39 page)

His sense of despair deepened and he yearned for the first time to be free of this circling, brooding that filled his skull, this elusive shadow of himself that tortured him. To go on killing would only sink him deeper into these quicksands of guilt which he wanted so much to avoid. What way was there out of this? The desperately naïve idea of confessing everything to Eva came to him. Might not she, being another victim, understand and help him?
No!
That was crazy…She believed him an
innocent
victim, not a
guilty
one! No; he could talk to no one now; he had to tread this guilty treadmill alone…

He recovered himself as the fingers of Eva's hand tightened about his own.

“Are you frightened, Lionel?”

“No.”

“What can we tell them?”

“The truth. We'll tell them what happened…”

He knew that, childlike, she was already thinking that maybe a lie would be a better kind of truth to tell than to try to conceal the guilt that had so long smouldered in her heart. Why was he mulling and hesitating? Ride this thing out and take this lovely girl and live with her…

“What are you thinking, Lionel?”

“Nothing,” he breathed.

“They'll say we acted wrongly, won't they?”

“How could they?” he asked. “We couldn't do any more than we did—”

“Oh, why did the Party push
you
into this?” she wailed.

“We're in it together,” he told her.

“Gil may be wanting us to help him; maybe he's hurt,” she began to weep again.

The doorbell rang.

“Go, Lionel!”

Cross ran and let in Jack Hilton and another man. They stared at one another for a moment in silence. Eva came running from the bedroom.

“He's still down there, Jack—Can't you do something?” she implored. “Maybe he's hurt…”

Hilton's face turned pale and he spun to Cross.

“But the police? Aren't they here
yet?
”

“No,” Cross told him.

“And Gil's
still
down there?”

“Yes.”

“And that door's still locked?”

“I guess so,” Cross stammered.

“My God—” Hilton said, whirling and going through the door. He halted, turned, and beckoned to his companion. “Come
on
, Menti!”

They thundered down the stairs. Eva followed Menti; and Cross, lingeringly, followed Eva, watching Hilton's movements, wondering what his tactics would be. They paused momentarily in the downstairs hallway. Hilton advanced to the door of Herndon's apartment.

“Is this the door?”

“Yes,” Cross told him.

Hilton grabbed the knob and rattled it.

“Gil! Are you there?” Hilton called loudly.

“Gil! Gil!” Eva yelled, hammering on the panels of the door with her fists.

“You'd better break it down,” Cross said. “I've called and called—”

Hilton hesitated, then ran to the rear door and tried the handle. He walked back toward them with worried eyes.

“Put your shoulder to it, Menti,” Hilton said.

“Okay,” Menti agreed eagerly.

Menti, tall, black of hair, with a nervous, too-white face, backed off to the bottom of the stairs, quickly hunched his shoulders and sent himself toward the door and in the second of his body hitting the panels, the door burst in, banging loudly against a wall inside. Menti blocked Cross's vision and he could see nothing; he remembered the room lit by flames and dancing shadows, but the wood fire had died down and, though he had forgotten it, the light on the ceiling had gone out when Gil had accidentally struck the chandelier with the fire poker. Eva pushed past him, then stopped, her face gazing at the floor of Herndon's study.

“Gil! Oh, God, Gil!” she screamed and ran forward.

Cross could now see the dim outlines of Gil and Herndon lying outstretched on the rug. They were as he had left them, the table leg and the fire poker lying near their right hands, their faces darkened with splotches of blood.

“What's happened?” Hilton asked in singsong voice.

“Good Christ,” Menti breathed.

“Gil! Gil!” Eva was still screaming, advancing slowly into the room.

Hilton stood without moving, his thin lips hanging open. Eva was now bent over Gil, her hands reaching out as though to touch him, then she closed her eyes and turned her body and leaned weakly against a wall, wailing and sobbing. Cross was observing closely and waiting for questions. Hilton was the first to master himself; he rushed forward, knelt at Gil's side and felt for his pulse. His eyes lifted to Eva's face; then he looked at Cross; he stood slowly, turning and looking at Menti. Only later did he glance at Herndon, then kneel and feel for his pulse.

“Help 'im,” Eva begged, staring at Gil as though she expected him to rise and accuse her.

“We better call the police again,” Menti said.

“Better call a doctor,” Cross ventured.

“Naw; wait,” Hilton said, speaking in a vague tone with bated breath, his eyes straying from face to face. “Look, don't touch anything here…Let's get upstairs!”

“Get a doctor,” Eva begged. “He's bleeding…Somebody
do
something…” She knelt to touch Gil, but Hilton grabbed her arm.

“Gil's dead, Eva,” Hilton told her softly. “Don't touch anything.”

“No! No!” Eva screamed, cringed, jammed her fingers against her teeth and sank to the floor. Cross lifted
her and held her by her shoulders, conscious that Hilton's eyes were upon him. As he held Eva he knew that now was beginning the time of his drastic test, a test he did not want, for, if he won it, what had he won? Eva? He had not killed to get her. Hilton was still staring at him; then Hilton turned and walked slowly to the hall door. Menti ran to Hilton and grabbed his arm.

“Hadn't I better call the Party again?” he asked.

“We haven't time,” Hilton said. “The police'll be here any minute now.”

Menti was nonplussed; his eyes narrowed and he stared at Hilton.

“I'm going to call the Party,” he said.

“Take it easy, Menti,” Hilton said with a slow, ironic smile. “This is more complicated than you think. I'm in charge here. I spoke to Blimin over the phone and he told me to take complete responsibility.
This
is political…”

“I see,” Menti said, dropping his eyes.

Hilton was now staring at Cross with eyes round with astonishment. And Cross, as he watched Hilton, knew that this was the man he had to cope with, and a slow hatred for Hilton began to surge up in him. He still kept his arm about Eva who was trembling and sagging against him. Why was Hilton staring at him so? Was he already suspecting him? Hilton was a member of the upper circles of the Party and he was no fool. So free were the minds of these Communists that one could not predict what motives would prompt their actions. Cross held himself alert, every atom of him striving supremely to be aware of what was taking place.

“We've no time to lose,” Hilton told them roughly. “Everybody get upstairs at once. Stay in the apartment 'til I come.”

“No, no,” Eva sobbed. “Help Gil—”

“Go upstairs, Eva,” Hilton said. “It's too late.”

Cross led Eva into the hallway and struggled with her up the steps; Menti helped him, but was looking over his shoulder to see what Hilton was doing. When inside the apartment, Eva clutched Menti and begged:

“Can't something be done, Menti? It's not too late,
is
it?”

“Take it easy, Eva,” Menti said. “Hilton's doing everything…”

Cross eased Eva upon the sofa of the living room and Menti sat next to her, holding her shoulders. Hilton entered a moment later and Cross could see sweat standing on his forehead.

“He should've broken that door down,” Menti told Hilton, nodding to Cross.

“No; he did right,” Hilton said. “He's colored…This thing is complicated…”

“Oh,” Menti breathed.

Hilton rushed out of the room and Cross could hear him putting the night-chain on the front door. Hilton returned and knelt at Eva's side.

“Eva,” he began in a hurried but composed voice, “can you understand me? Are you fit to be questioned? We don't have much time—”

“But maybe he's not dead, Jack,” Eva whimpered. “Try…Try to
do
something…”

“They're
both
dead, Eva,” Hilton explained calmly.

“God in Heaven,” Eva sobbed.

“Eva,” Hilton spoke sternly. “We've no time for that…You must get hold of yourself. You're in the Party. You must rise above all display of personal feeling. There's something of decisive importance to the memory of Gil that I must discuss with you. You hear me?”

“Yes,” Eva breathed, trying to still the shaking of her body; she turned wild eyes to Hilton and nodded her head.

“Gil's been killed by a Fascist,” Hilton explained. “He was carrying out Party orders when he was killed; he fell in line of duty…That must be understood. This is a
Party
matter. The bourgeois press'll try to twist those facts downstairs, and we must see that they don't. I'm sure that Gil, if he were with us now, would agree emphatically to that.”

“Yes,” Eva said, nodding her head slowly; she glanced at Cross and buried her face in her hands.

Cross grasped the approach; it was as he had hoped it would be. But they had not questioned him yet; that was to come.

“Now, Eva,” Hilton was saying, “tell me quickly what happened…”

“Ask Lionel…I only saw him beating Gil,” she said.

“You were not in the room at all?” Hilton asked Eva.

“No…” Eva sighed.

Hilton rose and faced Cross.

“Were you in the room?”

“No,” Cross said. “I was looking in through the door. He came at me, hit me with the poker—Right here—”

“Start from the beginning and tell me quickly,” Hilton urged.

Cross sketched the story briefly, telling the facts just as they had happened, but omitting that he had been in the room.

“God, I'm sorry about Gil,” he ended up.

“This is war,” Hilton said. “We must expect casualties. Gil was brave.” He studied Cross. “I saw you at Bob's last night, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

“What's your name?”

“Lionel Lane.”

“You've got to help us with this thing,” Hilton said. “You were Gil's friend…”

“I'll do what I can.”

“Listen to me carefully, all of you,” Hilton began. “The important thing here is who died
first
. Get it?”

“What do you mean?” Menti asked.

“If it's proved that Herndon died first, then they'll want to brand Gil as a murderer,” Hilton explained swiftly.

“But Eva saw Herndon alive with a gun…He was after her,” Cross told him.

“Yes; I know that,” Hilton said. “But when you looked into the door and saw Herndon beating Gil…Gil was not able to defend himself, was he? Herndon was killing him…Do you understand? It's important.”

Menti approached Cross and caught hold of his arm.

“Look, guy, Gil was killed by that Fascist,” Menti said. “Do you understand that?”

“Gil died fighting for your people, for
you
,” Hilton reminded him.

“I know that,” Cross said, simulating bafflement; he knew what they were driving at, but he did not want to seem to grasp it too quickly. He squinted his eyes and looked at the floor; he felt like laughing out loud. They were now begging
him
to believe something that he was praying that
they
would believe!

Cross looked at Eva. Though she had stopped sobbing, Cross could see that she could not quite follow what was being said. Cross felt that now was the time to cooperate with the Party, to demonstrate class consciousness, to cast his solidarity with the revolution. He nodded his head, looking slowly from Hilton to Menti.

“When I looked through the doorway, I saw Herndon with his foot on Gil's chest—He was hitting Gil—With the poker—I don't know how many times he hit 'im—Then Eva came down and Herndon saw us. He ran us back upstairs with the fire poker…”

“Yes,” Eva sighed.

“And Gil couldn't move when you looked into that door?” Hilton demanded.

“No, he was out, unconscious, it seems to me…”

Hilton turned to Eva.

“And you saw Herndon
after
Lionel was up here? He was coming to get into the apartment, hunh? You ran back in and shut the door, didn't you, Eva? He had his gun?”

“Yes,” she said.

“That is
proof
,” Hilton said.

Cross wondered if Eva really believed that…Her sense of guilt was making her paint a picture that was helping him!

“Lionel, you just tell the cops what you saw; stick to your story,” Menti said. “Cops are your enemies, boy. Look at what they have done to your people…Don't forget the lynchings…No matter
what
they do to you, say
nothing
but the truth; you hear? Gil gave his life for
you
. Herndon miscalculated; he thought he could scare Gil…When Herndon killed Gil, he was really killing
you
; you understand?”

“I understand,” Cross answered.

“You better call those cops again,” Menti said.

Hilton left and a moment later Cross heard him dialing the telephone. Menti stood looking at Cross and Eva, and Cross could guess what was going through the man's mind. Menti was hoping that Eva would be able to keep him in line, keep him loyal to the Party; and no doubt that same idea was in the back of Hilton's mind.

“Poor girl,” Menti said to Cross, nodding toward Eva. “We owe it to her to protect the name of Gil.”