Part 33 (1/2)

He pushed Buckley toward the door, and there was an answering stir within ... voices.

XXIV

An overwhelming desire possessed Gordon Makimmon to go home. He forgot the pressing necessity for a.s.sistance, the searing hurt within ... he must go home. He stumbled forward, turning into an aside that led directly behind Dr. Pelliter's drug store to the road above the Makimmon dwelling. He moved blindly, instinctively, following the way bitten beneath his consciousness by a lifetime of usage.

The house was dark, but it was hardly darker than Gordon's brain. He climbed the steps to the porch; his hands fumbled among the keys in his pocket.

Feet tramped across the creaking boards, approaching him; a palm fell upon his shoulder; a crisp voice rang out uncomprehended at his ear. It said:

”I'd knocked on all the doors, and was just going. I wanted to see you at once--”

Gordon felt over the door in search of the place for the key.

”I say I wanted to see you,” the voice persisted; ”it's Edgar Crandall.

You'll take pleasure from what I've got to tell.”

The key slipped into its place and the bolt shot back.... Well, he was home. No other thought, no other consciousness, lingered in his mind; even the pain, the unsupportable white core of suffering in his brain, was dulled. He placed his foot upon the threshold, but the hand upon his shoulder arrested him:

”Greenstream's going to have a bank,” the voice triumphantly declared; ”it's settled--part outside capital, part guaranteed right here. Paper shaving, robbery, finished ... lawful rate ... chance--”