The Stranger Came (56 page)

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Authors: Frederic Lindsay

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But
Lucy
was
not
listening.
Instead
she
watched
his smile
that
had
slipped
out,
secretive,
satisfied,
despite
himself.

No
one tells me the truth,
she
thought.
What if there has been a trial and I've been found guilty? Guilty but insane. A husband takes a young woman to love; why wouldn't men believe I killed her? The poor wife. Poor madwoman.

What
if the hospital I remember out there isn't the real one? What if every door is locked behind me, every window barred?

Guilty
but
insane.

Inside
she
began
to
scream.

 

 

Chapter
19

 

 

'What
did
he
say
then?'
Anne
Macleod
asked.

'That
it
could
only
be
what
he
called
a
dream.
Not something
that
could
ever
have
happened.’

But
there
were
no
images
of
a
girl
on
all
fours
crouched
naked
as
there
would
have
been
in
a
dream;
just
words,
her
own
voice
in
her
head,
like
a
child
reciting
the
stages
of
a
Black
Mass
by
rote.

'Why
not?'

Lucy
hadn't
expected
that
question,
the
tone
of
cool
enquiry,
the
sharp
glance
that
went
with
it.

'Because
it
was
sick.
Horrible.’

'That's
what
he
said?'
And
when
Lucy
shook
her
head.
'No,
he
knows
sick
things
happen
inside
heads
and
outside
them.
Inside
first
and
after
a
time
someone
goes
and
does
them.
Outside
and
they
get
to
be
part
of
dreams,
even
the
ones
you
don't
know
you
have.’

'He
told
me
no
one
can
hypnotise
you
and
make
you
do
something
that
was
wrong.
You
would
wake
up.
Doctor
Cadell
told
me
that.
If
you
were
asked
to
do
something
wrong.’

'I
read
about
an
experiment
once –'
Anne
Macleod
paused
as
a
nurse
clattering
out
from
one
of
the
side
wards
looked
at
them
curiously.
They
were
in
the
upper
corridor
again,
walking
it
from
one
end
to
the
other
as
they
had
done
before.
'It
was
at
one
of
those
American
universities
with
an
exotic
name

Tulsa,
I
think.
The
experimenter
had
a
beaker
of
sulphuric
acid.
He
told
each
subject
what
it
was.
Just
to
make
sure
there
could
be
no
doubt,
he
put a
strip
of
zinc
into
the
acid.’
And
Lucy
was
able
to
picture
that, white
fumes
steaming
out
like
a
mad
horror
film.
'He
told
them,
this
would
scar,
it
could
burn
the
eyes
out
of
your
head.
Then
he
hypnotised
them
and
told
them
to
throw
the
beaker
in
his
face.
And
some
of
them
did.’

'How
could
they?'
Lucy
protested.

'After
they
were
hypnotised,
a
glass
screen
was
slid
up
between
him
and
each
of
them.
The
subjects
didn't
know
anything
about
it.
There
was
one
man
who
threw
with
such
force
the
acid
splashed
all
across
the
glass.’

'I
don't
believe –'
Lucy
began.
'Your
experimenter
couldn't
be
sure –
how
could
he
be
sure?
I'm
sure
the
man
who
threw
the
acid
knew
the
screen
was
there.’

Anne
Macleod
made
no
answer
to
that,
and
coming
to
the
last
window
in
the
corridor
they
looked
down
to
where
a
man
with
a
stick
was
spearing
up
rubbish
from
the
lawns.

'If
it
had
been
me

anyway,
if
it
had
been
me,'
Lucy said,
'I
couldn't
have
thrown –
even
if
I'd
realised
the
glass
was
there.
Not
acid.
The
idea
is
too
horrible.
Of
hurting
someone
in
that
way.’

'That
man
who
threw
the
acid.
He
was
a
big
man

one
of
those
football
players
who
get
scholarships
to
American
universities.
And
then
he
finds
he
has
to
do
this
as
part
of
the
course.
And
he
is
one
of
those
who
go
under
and
can't
seem
to
resist.
I
imagine
he
might
be
angry
without
knowing
it.
Being
hypnotised
perhaps
just
gave
him
per
mission
to
do
what
he
really
wanted
to
do

punish
the
lecturer
who
was
doing
these
things.’
The
man
below
gathered
up
the
mouth
of
a
sack
and
began
to
drag
it
behind
him
across
the
winter
pale
grass.
'It
isn't
everyone
who
can
be
hypnotised
really
deeply.
To
walk
around
and
do
things,
and
then
remember
none
of
it
once
you're
out
of
the
trance.
Sleepwalkers
and
amnesiacs.
Somnambules
they're
called.
They're
quite
rare.
I
imagine
Sophie
Lindgren
might
have
been
one,'
Anne
Macleod
said.

Lucy
turned
away
from
her,
going
back
the
way
they had
come,
hurrying.
'Do
you
think,'
she
wondered
aloud, hearing
the
footsteps
behind
her,
'she
was
sleepwalking
when
she
went
to
bed
with
my
husband?'

She
felt
herself
caught
by
the
sleeve.
She
stopped
unresisting
in
front
of
a
ragged
poster
taped
onto
a
pin board
beside
a
yellowing
page
of
fire
regulations.

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