“Sure. Get your sleep.” Big Tom stood up and nodded to Uncle Willy and they went out and down the steps to the yard. Skip gave them a couple of minutes. Then he rose and, walking silently in his socks, he went into the bathroom and inspected his face in the mirror. An area of bruised flesh was swelling and darkening in front of his ear. He turned sidewise, inspecting it, and curses growled in his throat. He ran cold water into a towel, squeezed it lightly, patted the swollen place. It was going to look like hell tonight; and in class, under the bright lights, he’d feel like a fool. He decided then not to attend class but to wait for Karen outside on the break.

He went back to the bed and lay down on top of the covers and stared at the ceiling. The picture was clear, but his own part in it was not.

Uncle Willy and Big Tom went out to the alley, where Tom’s Ford sedan was parked. An old lime tree was blooming against the fence and the air was sweet with the smell of its blossoms. Willy said, “He’ll be okay. He got a little excited there at first, but that was natural. He’s settled down now.”

Big Tom said slowly, “When you get a chance, talk to him. He has a chance here he’ll never get again.”

Willy nodded excitedly. “Sure. Nothing to do. A wad of dough just for sitting still. What more could he ask?”

“Keep an eye on him,” Big Tom said. “I’ll be back tonight around eleven.”

“We’ll be waiting for you.” Uncle Willy turned and hurried through the yard to the rear door of the big house at the front of the lot. In the kitchen was Mr. Chilworth in pajamas and robe; he’d already had breakfast and Uncle Willy was surprised to find him here. Mr. Chilworth was staring nearsightedly into one of the kitchen drawers.

“What is it, Mr. Chilworth?”

“Oh, there you are!” Mr. Chilworth opened a second drawer. “I need a screw driver. One of the pulls on my dresser drawer is loose.”

“I’ll fix it, Mr. Chilworth.”

“Would you? That’s fine.” He was near the back windows now; through the screened porch the stairs of the room above the garage were plainly visible. For a moment Uncle Willy worried whether Mr. Chilworth might have seen him with Big Tom, an item Big Tom wouldn’t have liked; but then he reminded himself of Mr. Chilworth’s extremely bad sight. There was nothing to be worried about.

Mrs. Havermann walked along the upstairs hall to the stair railing. From above she could see the lower hall, wide and shadowy, and through an open archway a part of the parlor. She leaned on the railing and stood still for a moment as if listening, then called, “Karen! Karen, are you down there?”