The Sphinx (8 page)

Gene looked at
her carefully. She was trying to be nonchalant, but he sensed an unusual
tension about her as she waited for his answer. Her fingers drummed nervously
on the patchwork counterpane, and she kept giving him little spasmodic smiles.

“I know this is
kind of impertinent,” he said slowly, “but can I ask you what you’ve got here
that requires guarding so fiercely?”

Mrs. Semple
touched her forehead with her fingertips as if she felt a slight headache
coming on.

“We have
nothing of value, Mr. Keiller, except our privacy. Having this place to
ourselves means a great deal to us.”

“I guess you’re
entitled to it,” said Gene, “and you mustn’t think that I’m trying to teach you
to suck eggs.’ But don’t you think Lorie should get out more? She seems pretty
lonely.”

“My dear Mr.
Keiller. I’m always trying to persuade ter.”

Gene coughed.
“That wasn’t the impression T got from her. She really implied that it was you
who was holding her back.”

Mrs. Semple
nodded. “You’re not the first,” she said, in a weary voice.

“She told me
she’d never dated anyone.”

“That’s quite
right, Mr. Keiller, she never has. But it certainly wasn’t for lack of
encouragement on my part, and it certainly wasn’t for lack of enthusiasm on the
part of the poor fellows who tried to take her out. She’s nineteen, you know,
and I do feel it’s time she went out into the world and got herself some
experience with men.”

“Mrs. Semple,
if I were to ask Lorie out, would you encourage that, too?”

“Of course!”
laughed Mrs. Semple in a rather forced tone. “I don’t see how anyone could be
more eligible You’re precisely the type of man I’ve always had my eye on.”

“Well, I’m very
flattered, Mrs. Semple, but I’m not sure I’ve got marriage in mind. I’m afraid
my career is pretty important to me.”

Mrs. Semple
stood up and walked over to the window. The fall sunlight somehow made her look
even taller than she had seemed before, and Gene was surprised to see that the
roots of her hair were as tawny as Lorie’s. The silver-gray look must have been
hair dye. She turned back and stared at him with those glittering and hypnotic
green eyes that characterized the female side of the Semple family, and she
said softly: “If you like, I will speak to Lorie, and see if I can’t persuade
her to change her mind.”

“I get the
feeling there’s some kind of condition, placed on that.”

“Condition?”
said Mrs. Semple, lifting one eyebrow. She pronounced the word the French way–
condission
, She didn’t look surprised at
what he had said.

Gene shifted
himself into a more comfortable position. “Supposing I forget about the dog
last night? Is that the kind of deal you had in mind?”

Mrs. Semple
smiled a long, lazy smile. “You don’t work for the State Department for
nothing, do you? You have read my thoughts.”

“In that case,”
said Gene, “it’s a deal.”

When the pain
in his shoulder came back, Mrs. Semple gave him another shot of sedative, and
he slept in dreaming jigsaw-pieces from lunch until early evening, muttering
and mumbling and tossing in his sleep. Sometimes he thought he saw Mrs. Semple
standing in his room, and at other times he thought he was being watched by a
strange animal that regarded him with cold and emotionless eyes.

The strangest
dream he had was that someone was arguing in another room–a long and loud and
persistent argument that he couldn’t quite hear or understand. He caught the
words “eligible” and “perfect?’

 
over
and over again,
and then the words “ritual” and “frightened” seemed to follow. He couldn’t be
sure if it was the same dream or not, but after that he heard animals snarling
and tussling, and the dream turned into a nightmare about heavy beasts tearing him
down from the wall and sinking their teeth into his arm.

He woke up and
there was something cool on his forehead. He opened his eyes and Lorie was
sitting on the chair beside his bed, leaning over and holding a cold compress
against his brow.

He realized he
was sweating and trembling, and his mouth was dry as ash. “Lorie,” he croaked.

‘Tm here,
Gene,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry.

You’ve just had
a nightmare, that’s all. It’s the sedative.”

He tried to
turn his head. “What time is it?” he asked her.

“Half after
seven. You’ve been asleep since one.”

“I think...” he
said, stretching his muscles as much as he could, “... I think I feel better.”

“Mother says
you should be able to get up tomorrow. She phoned your office again and told
them.

Someone called
Maggie sends you her love.”

Gene nodded.
“That’s my secretary. She’s a nice sec…”

There was an
awkward silence between them. Lorie lifted the compress away, took it over to
the washbasin, and wrung it out. Then she ran the cold faucet, testing the
water with the tip of her finger. Gene watched her without saying a word. She
looked twice as beautiful as she had when he had first seen her, and he felt
pleased and amazed that someone could attract lira more and more each day as
she did. She was wearing a plum-colored silk blouse with embroidered cuffs, and
superbly tailored beige slacks. Her wrists were Jangling with gold bracelets,
and around her neck, deep between her breasts, she wore a golden pendant.

“Lorie,” said
Gene, as gently as he could.

She didn’t turn
around, but he could see she was Watching him in the circular mirror above the
basin. The pupils of her eyes were dilated and dark.

“You’re not...
frightened of anything, are you?” Je asked her.

She turned off
the faucet. “Why should I be?”

“I don’t know.
That’s what I’m asking you. It’s just that you give me that impression.”

“There’s
nothing to be frightened of,” she said, coming back to his bedside with the
fresh compress. “We are not the kind of people who feel afraid.”

“You seem to be
afraid of intruders.”

She stroked his
hair back before laying the compress on his forehead. Her touch was very soft.

Her curved lips
were slightly open, and he saw her lick them with, the tip of her tongue in a
way that was innocent but also indescribably sensual.

“It depends who
the intruders are,” she said. “Soma intruders we welcome.”

“How about me?
Am I welcome?”

She smiled
slightly. “Of course you are. I told you before that I think you’re
attractive.”

“You also told
me to go away.”

She lowered her
eyes. “Yes,” she said, “I did.”

Gene took the
compress away from his forehead. Now that the effects of the sedative had
completely worn off, he was fresher and brighter. His shoulder was healing–he
could feel the sinews tightening and the skin growing scabs. There was still a
dull muscular ache from bruises and bumps, but he could tolerate that. He was
beginning to feel less like a helpless invalid and more like a bedridden
politician “Lorie,” he said, “can T use your telephone?”

She looked at
him warily. “What for?”

“I need to call
my office. There were a couple of big meetings today and I want to find out
what happened.”

“Mother
said...”

“Lorie, I have
to check up. It’s my job. I can’t just sit back here and let the United States
drift rudderless and leaderless into World War Three.”

Lorie seemed
uncertain. “I don’t know,” she said. “Mother said that she’d rather you didn’t
call anyone.”

He frowned.
“What did she mean by that?”

“I’m not sure.
I think she was worried you might call an attorney. You know, about your bites.

She’s very
anxious that you don’t tell anyone what happened.”

“I’ve already
promised that I wouldn’t do that,” Gene said cautiously.

Lorie blushed a
little. “I know.”

“She told you?”

“Yes. We had a
row about it. She made me promise to go out with you in return.”

Gene gave a
humorless laugh. “Listen, I’m not going to force you. If you don’t want to go
out with me, if you really don’t want to, then the last thing I’m going to do
is blackmail you into doing it. I only want to take you out if you genuinely
want to go.”

She glanced at
him, almost shyly.

“Well, do you?”
he asked her. “If you don’t, then the best thing we can do is retire gracefully
and leave it at that.”

She traced a
pattern on the counterpane with her finger. “I was thinking of you,” she said,
in a soft and serious voice.

“I don’t
understand.”

She reached out
and held his hand. Her eyes were anxious and intent, as if she was trying to
tell him something without actually speaking it out loud–trying to communicate
some warning that it was impossible to put into words.

“My mother is a
believer in tradition, Gene.” She said. “She likes things done in the way they
always were. Some of her beliefs, and some of the things she does... well, you
may not be able to accept them for what they really are.”

He squeezed her
hand. “I’m still as lost as ever. What kind of tradition? What do you mean?”

She shook her
head. “I can’t tell you. You can only find out for yourself. I hope you never
have to.”

He looked at
her questionably for a while, and when he saw she wasn’t going to say anything
more, he let out a small sigh of resignation and settled back on his pillow.

“Lorie,” he
said. “I don’t mind telling you that you are the most baffling person I ever
met.

Maybe I should
write you up for the Reader’s Digest.”

She gave a sad
little grin. “You mustn’t think that I don’t like you, Gene. And you mustn’t
think that I’m not flattered–complimented–because you tried to get into, the
house and find me. It was very romantic, and I’m only sorry you got hurt.”

“Do I take that
to mean that you do want to go out With me? Or is it another polite way of
saying
arrivederci
.”

She looked at
Mm in silence for a while, and he thought he saw her eyes moisten with tears.
Then she leaned forward, her lips carefully closed, and kissed him.

“I want, very
much, to go out with you,” she whispered. “That’s why my promise to mother
wasn’t difficult to make. But before we ever do, just swear me one thing.”

“You and your
mother are as full of qualifying clauses as a Senate bill.”

“I mean it,
Gene. Please.”

He shrugged
stiffly. “Tell me what it is, and I’ll Swear.”

“You must
absolutely swear that you will never ask me to marry you.”

He stared at
her in disbelief. He found her fascinating, and arousing, and he’d even admit
that he’d made something of a fool of himself over her. But as for marriage...

“Lorie, honey,”
he told her, “if there’s one thing that you can be sure that I’m not, it’s a
marrying kind of man. I have a good job, an entertaining lifestyle, lots of
friends, and quite a lot of money.

The last thing
on my mind right at this moment in time is wedlock.”

“And you’ll
swear?”

“Sure I’ll
swear!”

He raised his
right hand, and in a deep and resonant tone said: T, Gene Keiller, being of
sound mind and only slightly damaged body, do solemnly swear that I will never
ask you, Lorie Semple, to be my wedded wife.”

He was going to
continue, but then he saw that her face was utterly grave. She was fingering
her pendant and frowning at him as if he was swearing the oath of allegiance to
the flag.

“Lorie,” he
said, “I’m not trying to make fun of this, but you have to admit it’s a pretty
wacky kind of promise.”

She nodded. “I
know what it must seem like. But, please, Gene, don’t ever break your promise.

It’s the. only
protection you have.”

“Huh?”

She leaned
forward again, and lifted her golden pendant so that he could see it close up.
He squinted at it, and saw that it was a small pyramid. He reached his hand up
to touch it, but she pulled it away.

“Is that a
clue?” he asked her.

She shook her
head. “It’s just to show you. The influence of the pyramid is very strange and
powerful. It’s just to show you what you have to protect yourself against.”

“Lorie, I...”

“All you have
to do is remember that I showed it to you. Please…that’s all I ask.”

He gazed at her
classic, high-cheekboned face in the dying light of the day, and he felt as
mystified as he had the first time he had tried to kiss her. But she was so
serious, and so intense.

“All right,” he
said, “I’ll remember, if that’s what you want.”

Later that week
Gene met Lorie at the front gates of the house. It was a crisp, dry day, and
the brown, curled-up leaves sounded like crunching ginger-snaps under their
feet. A little way down the drive, Mathieu was standing stolidly beside his
red-and-white striped golf cart, his stony expression concealed behind
reflecting sunglasses, so that he looked as though he had two pieces of clear
blue sky instead of eyes.

Lorie was
wearing a safari jacket and boots, and her hair was tucked up into a
wide-brimmed bush hat. She had made her eyes so that they appeared even more
luminous and enormous than ever.

Gene opened the
door of his car for her, and she climbed in. Then he walked around to the
driving-seat, waving to Mathieu on the way.

“Doesn’t he
like me, or something?” asked Gene, as he sat. down behind the wheel.

“Mathieu? I
don’t think he likes or dislikes people in the normal sort of way. He just does
his job.”

“Well, his job
obviously doesn’t include waving to your weekend date.”

Lorie laughed.
“I can’t imagine Mathieu waving at anyone, let alone you.”

They drove down
the winding road, through the tunnel of overhanging trees, and out onto the
main highway. Gene turned the car away from Washington and out toward Frederick.
Walter Farlowe had invited them out to his vacation home for drinks and a
barbecue, along with some of the leading professional people who had assisted
the Democratic cause with finance and moral support during the crucial stages
of the election.