About to turn away, she paused and looked back at him. Her lips quivered, her hazel eyes held an odd swimming brightness. Then, before Bryan could overcome his bewilderment, she whirled and hurried toward the door.
He stared after her with a disturbing sense of alarm. He had always considered Joyce a friend, but now he realized her own feelings went deeper than that. Deep enough so that she seemed fiercely to resent his interest and sympathy where Leeta was concerned.
He felt—danger. Joyce, he knew now, had become an enemy.
He walked slowly through the darkness, a big man whose tweed suit was more rumpled than usual. The park was oddly deserted tonight. No couples strolled along the walks, no figures occupied the benches.
And Bryan knew the reason for that. Patrolmen, on emergency duty, guarded all the approaches to the park. People were being turned away. He himself had gained admission only because he was personally acquainted with the captain in charge of the guard detail. The only formality had been a warning to remain alert.
An expectant hush lay on the air. Even the warm spring breeze seemed stilled, the rustling of leaves muted. Bryan felt the atmosphere of tension, and his excitement grew. He wondered if Leeta would appear again, if he would be able somehow to attract her notice, speak to her.
Leeta.... He recalled the way she had looked when she had stood close to him, with the crystal globe in her hands—lovely, strange, wondering. He recalled the wistfulness that had radiated from her, the urgency. And in his mind seemed to ring an echo of the delicate silver chiming, voice-like, that seemed associated with her.
He couldn't deny his longing.
The pavilion took shape in the lamp-lit gloom. Bryan was walking toward it, when a burly figure stepped out of a patch of shadow a few yards ahead.