George was coming up for the last lap. The noise of the cars and the shouting was deafening. Round he came into the straight. It was like watching a red smudge. I don’t know how it happened; no one knew. It was not as if he were taking a corner. It looked as if he knew he had won and then suddenly thrown in his hand. The car swerved right across the track, turned over, bounced in the air like a huge ball and then burst into flames.
Myra screamed and I ran forward. It was no use. Other cars were still thundering past and no one could get across the track. When at last we did get there, it was too late. George had been strapped in, and one look at the blackened, twisted car told me it was useless to stay.
I walked away, feeling sick and too stunned to really realize what had happened.
As I climbed into my car, Myra came up to me. Her eyes were very dark, and her mouth worked rather horribly.
“Give me that paper,” she said.
Because I wanted to get away I took the paper from my wallet and looked at her. “This isn’t the time now to talk about this. I’ll come and see you later.”
“Oh no, you won’t,” she said. She seemed to be speaking through locked teeth. “I fooled George and I fooled you. Read what it says. Didn’t I promise to pay my husband one million dollars? Well, he wasn’t my husband, I can contest that. By the time the court has made a ruling, it will be too late. George’s little suckers will be down the drain.”
I said: “What do you mean? George married you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he married me, but that was all. He didn’t lie with me. Oh no! My money was good enough for him, but I wasn’t. He thought it was sufficient just to marry me—the fool.”
I stared at her. “You can’t prove that,” I said slowly. “Surely you are keeping to your agreement?”