Part 15 (2/2)

”_What can you do for someone like Clarens?_”

Thornberry's lips came together and his cheeks began to pull in.

Bennington resigned himself to hearing again the phrase, ”There are some areas of human behavior--”

”_Car 17, at M dash 9, Code Two Zero, times two. Standing by for instructions._”

Bennington turned to watch Chief Scott's big fore-fingers travel a line from the side and a line from the top that brought them together on the big map. ”Signs of breaking and entering, down on Hickory, where it's all big warehouses.”

Thornberry leaped to the chief's side. ”Lonely at this time of night?

Dark? Not too many people?”

”Right on every count,” Scott said. ”Only a few night watchmen.”

”This should be carefully checked,” and Thornberry started for the door.

Scott turned to the dispatcher. ”Tell them just to keep the place under observation until I get there.”

There was an odd eagerness about the chief, odd until Bennington remembered Scott's grim a.n.a.lysis of Clarens' behavior, the chief's hope that Clarens would resist arrest.

_And why do I now recall that time in Burma when I followed the wounded tiger into the cave?_

_What was I thinking of at the time?_

Thornberry had disappeared into the corridor, but for once even the prospect of immediate action was not enough to get the impetuous Mosby out the door ahead of Scott.

_Was I thinking of mercy, that I could not let a wounded beast which could not destroy itself live with continual pain? Thornberry would never agree, but Clarens is certainly both wounded and incapable of self-destruction._

Thornberry was already seated in the back of the car. Mosby was ready to seat himself in the front, Scott was opening the door to slide in behind the driver's wheel, but Bennington did not change his steady pace.

_Retribution and punishment, because the tiger had killed human beings? No, no and never no, for these are worthless without understanding by the person upon whom they are visited. A baby understands not the reason why, but only the whack across its b.u.t.tocks when its fingers or its life are in danger, and that action is thence forward ”reject”; but Clarens is not a baby and a baby is not a tiger, with all three having only this in common, that 'don't do this' is a mystery...._

Bennington seated himself beside Thornberry in the rear of Scott's sedan, more aware of his thoughts than his movements.

For a moment the whine of the turbine was high, the gleam of the headlights low, then they were on their way.

Hickory Street was a fast three-minute run from the police station.

”Nothing but warehouses,” Scott said. ”We're a big trans-s.h.i.+pment center.”

The narrow, one-way streets and the broad-shouldered bulk of the big buildings emphasized what the chief had said. The railroads and the rivers were still the most economical way to s.h.i.+p the s.p.a.ce-taking stuff, coal, steel, grain. Harrisburg was a crossroads where the east-west and north-south main lines met, with a natural growth of the long warehouses at the intersection.

Scott spun the driver's wheel to the left and cut the car lights.

”Hickory Street.”

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