“One of them grabbed my arm and twisted it, and the other kept poking his finger in my chest.” He paused. “At least I think that’s why I reacted as I did.”

“You don’t know? That’s hardly an acceptable excuse, Duff.”

“I’m sorry, Mother, but it’s the only one I have.” He really sounded forlorn now.

“Can we expect a continuation of this sort of thing?”

“No . . . I don’t know.”

“Is anything wrong? Anything we don’t know about?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he said, “Nothing you would want to know about.”

His voice sounded different, guttural. I glanced at him. He was grinning. There was a stubble of rough dark beard on his cheeks and chin, where only moments before there had been—I thought—light down. Also, he had removed his glasses, and that, I decided, gave him a different look.

“Try me and see,” I said.

“Maybe I will—sometime.”

There was no conversation for a minute or two. I turned on to the road that led to the farm and then I said something about his being popular with Mrs. Reddy and Mrs. Weber.

“Oh, yes, very popular,” he said. The same guttural voice, but coldly cynical now, and also his breath had become foul.

I lowered my window. “What did they give you to eat in jail?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Now the stench was overpowering. I turned to him again and then I screamed. It wasn’t Duff sitting beside me but a stranger—a man of forty or so, with glaring bloodshot eyes and a short, thick beard. He was grinning, as Duff had been before, only now, instead of Duff’s well-­cared-for teeth, I saw broken and jagged yellow ones.

8

Chapter Eight

I fainted. When I regained consciousness, the two right wheels of the car were in a ditch. Duff—the real Duff—was slapping my cheeks frantically.

“Are you all right, Mother?” he kept asking.

My ribs and my chin were sore. I wasn’t wearing the seat belt, and I had been slammed against the steering wheel. I didn’t remember Duff fastening his seat belt either, but he seemed unhurt.

“I think I’m okay.” I took a couple of deep breaths, despite the pain in my ribs.

“What happened? You just suddenly went off the road for no reason.”

I didn’t know what to say, or what to think. Had there been someone else there? Was I losing my mind?

“I thought maybe you had a heart attack like Dad. Maybe the road is slippery here.”

It was hard-­packed gravel on that side of the farm and perfectly dry. Could it have been a sudden change of light distorting his features? No light could have caused changes like those I had seen.

“I’ll have to say what you said. I don’t know why I did it.”