Gus turned around and almost fell down trying to catch her. He said: “Oh, baby — baby!” He took her up in his arms and carried her back into the living-room.
I followed him in and switched on the lights. He put Bella on the davenport. I watched him bend over her and flick ice water across her face with his fingers, from a pitcher; he rubbed her hands and wrists, and tried to force a little whiskey between her clenched pale lips. He kept saying: “Oh, baby — baby,” over and over. I sat down.
He sat on the edge of the davenport and looked at me while he rubbed and patted Bella’s hands.
“You better telephone,” he said. Then he looked at Bella a long time. “I did it — see — I did it; only I didn’t know about it. I was cockeyed—”
I nodded. I said: “Sure, Gus,” and I leaned forward and picked up the telephone.
Gus was looking at Bella’s white beautiful face. He bobbed his head up and down mechanically.
I said: “What’s the best play — self-defense?”
He turned suddenly. “I don’t care — no play at all.” He dropped her hand and stood up. “Only I did it myself. She didn’t have anything to do with it. She was in here...” He came towards me, shaking his finger at me, speaking very earnestly.
I said: “Maybe I can get Neilan. The longer we let it go, the worse it’ll be.” I dialed a number.
Neilan was a short chubby man with a strangely long face, a high bony forehead. He and Frank had been partners in a string of distilleries for almost five years. He said: “When did you get here, Red?”