“Okay, Lila,” I said. “I need help.”
She was scrambling to her feet. “Did he — did it—” She giggled.
“No. If you have hysterics I’ll tell Bill. Slap yourself, I can’t. It’s there on a carton, and don’t go near it.”
“But he — my God, he—”
“Shut up. Company’s coming, and we’ve got to get out of here. I want some adhesive tape, quick. Find some.” She moved and started looking on shelves and in drawers. I kept talking, thinking it would help. “A drugstore is a handy place — sulphuric acid, adhesive tape, everything you might need. Watch your step; it’s spreading on the floor. When I said I was good with uncles I didn’t mean uncles like him. He’s a lulu. He may have been—”
“Here it is.”
“Good girl. Tear off a piece six inches long — that’s it. No, you’ll have to do it; if I turn loose of his throat he’ll squawk. Across his mouth, good and tight — not that way, diagonal. That’s right. Now one the other way. That ought to do it, thank you, nurse. Now find some nice sterile bandage...”
She found that too and held his arms while I sat on his knees and tied his ankles. Then I fastened his wrists behind him and anchored the strip of bandage to the handle of a locked drawer. I squatted for a look at the tape on his mouth, gave it a rub, stood up, went to the door and pushed the bolt, and told her, “Come on.”
“But we ought to make—”
“Come on, damn it! If company is on its way, and I think it is, it won’t be bottle-danglers. If you like this place you can stay, but I’m going. Well?”