I got a few hours sleep in an auto camp, reached Oakview early Tuesday morning, and had breakfast at the hotel dining-room. It was a rotten breakfast. I finished the last of my cold coffee and went out to the lobby.

The clerk said, “Why hello, Mr. Lam. Your bag’s here at the desk. We didn’t know whether you intended to check out. You left suddenly. We were — er — concerned about you.”

“You needn’t have been. I’ll pay my bill now.”

He looked at my eye as I handed him some money. “Accident?” he asked.

“No. I was walking through a roundhouse in my sleep. A locomotive hit me.”

He said, “Oh,” and gave me a receipt and my change.

“Mrs. Lintig up yet?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t come down yet.”

I thanked him and went down the street to the Blade office. Marian Dunton came out from behind the partition, and said, “Why, hello — what about it? Good Lord, what happened to your eye?”

I said, “I stubbed my toe. I tried to get you twenty-five bucks. I couldn’t make it stick. What’s she doing here?”

“Apparently just visiting friends. Remember, I warned you.”

“Visiting friends after all this time, and in a hotel?”

“That’s right.”

“How does she look?”

“I understand she shows her age. Mrs. Purdy, the mother of one of her old friends, has seen her, and says she looks terrible. Her hair’s turned white, and she’s put on a lot of weight. Mrs. Purdy says she told her she hasn’t had a happy moment since Dr. Lintig ran away.”

“It’s been twenty-one years,” I said.

“Yes, it’s a long time — for a person to be unhappy.”

I said, “Isn’t it — and why did you call my attention to the warning at this particular time?”

“Because,” she said, “I don’t like being pushed out in the cold.”

“Who’s pushing you out in the cold?”

“You are.”

“I don’t get you.”

She said, with some feeling. “Don’t stall, Donald. Mrs. Lintig is mixed up in something that’s important. A lot of people have become interested in her. If you won’t take me into your confidence — well, I warned you, that’s all.”

I said, “How about some information?”

She said, “That depends. Donald, what did happen to your eye?”

“I met Charlie,” I said.

“Charlie?”

“Yes, you know. Your boy friend. He resented me taking you out to dinner.”

“Oh,” she said, lowering her eyes. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Was he jealous?”

“Very.”

“Did you hit him first?”

I said, “He struck the first blow.”

“Who got in the last blow?” she asked.

“The first was it,” I said. “That old proverb to the effect that ‘that which is first shall be last’ is intended to apply to fist fights.”

“I’ll have to speak to Charlie,” she said. “He didn’t hurt his hand, did he?”

“He might have shortened the arm a couple of inches by driving his knuckles back to the wrist bone, but aside from that he’s all right. How about my information?”

“What is it you want?”

“The local constabulary,” I said. “Do you own a cop about six feet tall, forty years old, around two hundred and twenty, with black hair, grey eyes, a cleft chin, and a mole on his right cheek? He has the disposition of a camel and the execution of a mule. His name wouldn’t by any chance be Charlie, would it?”

“We don’t own one,” she said. “Our cops average about sixty to sixty-five. They’re appointed through political pull. They chew tobacco, are suspicious, and their chief duty is to drag in enough fines from out-of-town motorists to offset their salaries. Was it a cop who gave you the black eye, Donald?”

“I wouldn’t know. How about killing that ad in your paper?”

“It’s too late now. Here’s your mail.”

She took out a sack of letters tied with a heavy cord.

I said, “Good Lord, I suppose everyone in town wrote me.”

“There are only thirty-seven letters here,” she said. “That’s nothing at all. Blade ads get results, you know.”

I said, “I need a secretary — someone around twenty-two or twenty-three with brown eyes and brown hair, someone who smiles easily, not just a lip smile, but who throws her whole face into it.”

She said, “She’d have to be loyal to her employer, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes.”

She said, “I don’t know anyone who fits the description who would care for the job. However, I’ll keep it in mind. How long are you going to be here, Donald?”

“It depends on Charlie,” I said. “How about giving me a job for two hours?”

“Doing what?”

“Representing the Blade.”

She said, “We could use a man around twenty-six or twenty-seven, about five feet five, with nice, wavy, dark hair, dark, sensitive eyes — and a black eye. But he’d have to be working for the paper and not for himself.”

I said, “You’re related to the man who runs the paper, aren’t you?”

“Yes. He’s my uncle.”

“Tell him you’ve hired a reporter,” I said, and started for the door.

“Don’t you get us into any libel suits, Donald.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re going to see Mrs. Lintig?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to approach her as a Blade reporter?”

“That’s what I have in mind.”

She said, “That might make complications, Donald. And I don’t think Uncle would like it.”

“That’s going to be too bad. I’ll have to add your uncle as well as Charlie to my list of local enemies.”

“Don’t you want your mail?” she asked.

“Not now,” I said. “I’ll see you after a while. The person I asked about couldn’t have been a sheriff’s deputy, could he?”

“No. They wear big sombreros — and are a pretty decent bunch.”

“This man has metropolitan manners,” I said, and walked to the door.

She called after me, “If you’ll cut me in, I’ll work with you.”

I said, “I can’t cut you in. I told you so. I tried it. It didn’t work.”

I thought there was a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes, almost a look of relief. “Okay,” she said, “you can’t say I didn’t make the offer.” I nodded and let the door click shut.

I went back to the hotel. Mrs. Lintig hadn’t been seen in the lobby. The clerk suggested I might phone her.

The house was proud of its telephone system. It had been recently installed to “thoroughly modernize” the house. There was a sign reading House Telephones in letters a foot high. Below that sign, on a bench-like desk, was one telephone. I crossed over to it, and the clerk connected me with Mrs. Lintig’s room.

Her voice sounded hard and cautious over the line as she said, “Hello.”

“Mr. Lam, of the Blade. I’d like an interview.”

“What about?” she asked.

“How Oakview looks to you after a prolonged absence,” I said.

“Nothing about — about my private affairs?”

“Not a word — I’ll be right up, if you don’t mind.”

She started to hedge, but I dropped the receiver into place and went on up. She was standing in the door of her room, waiting for me.

She was rather heavy. Her hair was silvered. Her eyes were dark and hard. There hadn’t been much sagging to her face, and her eyes glowed with an alert awareness. She gave the impression of having been on her own, where she’d had to look out for herself against all comers.

“You’re the man who telephoned me?” she asked. “Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lam.”

“And you work on one of the newspapers?”

“Yes. There’s only one.”

“What did you say it was?”

“The Blade.”

“Oh, yes. Well, I don’t want to be interviewed.”

“I think I understand, Mrs. Lintig. Naturally, you resent the idea of having a newspaper pry into your affairs. But you could give us just a few of your impressions on returning to the city — it’s been some time since you were here.”

“Twenty-one years.”

“How does the city look to you now?”

She said, “It looks like the damnedest hick burg — to think I spent a part of my life here! If I could only get back the time I wasted here, if I only could—” She paused, peered at me and said, “I suppose that’s the wrong thing to say.”

“It is.”

“I was afraid it was. What should I say?”

“About how the town still retains its distinct individuality. Other cities may have grown faster, but seem to have lost their individuality in the process. Oakview has the distinctive charm which always characterized it.”

She peered at me through narrowed eyes.

“I guess you know the answers,” she said. “Move over here into the light where I can see you.”

I moved over.

She said, “You look young to be a reporter.”

“I am.”

“I can’t see clearly. This hotel wins the prize for being the worst, the poorest excuse for — a bellboy broke my spectacles within fifteen minutes of the time I hit town. He plunked a suitcase right down on top of them, smashed them all to pieces.”

I said, “That’s too bad. The only pair you had?”

“Yes. I’ve had to send for more. They should be here today.”

“Where,” I asked, “are they coming from?”

Her eyes sparkled and glittered at me. “My oculist,” she said.

“San Francisco?”

“My oculist,” she said firmly, “is sending them by mail.”

I said, “So you notice what’s happened to the town?”

“Do I?”

“Naturally, it isn’t the sort of place you remembered. It must seem a lot smaller.”

She said, “It seems — like looking at a city through the wrong end of a telescope. What keeps people here?”

“The climate,” I said. “It used to be unhealthy for me, and I moved away for a while. Then I came back and I’ve never felt better.”

She seemed puzzled. “What was the matter with you?”

“Oh, a variety of things.”

“You look a little frail, but you seem healthy enough.”

“I am. I suppose you’re inclined to look at our little city through the eyes of a world traveller. When you left you were more a part of the surroundings. Now you’ve become a citizen of the world. Tell me, Mrs. Lintig, how does Oakview compare with London?”

She took that right in her stride. “It’s smaller,” she said, and then, after a moment: “Who told you I’d been in London?”

I gave her my best smile, which seemed wasted on her, probably due to the absence of her glasses. “Your manner,” I said. “You have developed a cosmopolitan manner. You don’t seem a part of Oakview any longer.”

“Good Lord, I should hope not! This place gives me the willies.”

I took out a notebook and scribbled a note.

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just stating that you said the town was quaint, but had retained its individuality.”

She said, “You’re tactful, aren’t you?”

“A reporter has to be. Have you kept in touch with Dr. Lintig?”

“I wish I had. I understand he’s made a lot of money somewhere. After the raw deal he gave me, it wouldn’t hurt him any to do something for me now.”

“Then you’ve heard from him?”

“No.”

I put sympathy into my voice. “The whole affair must have been a terrific shock to you, Mrs. Lintig.”

“I’ll say it was. It ruined my entire life. I took it too seriously. I was more attached to him than I realized, and when I discovered his infidelity, I was furious. To think of him keeping that woman right under my nose.”

“The records show that he turned over all of his property to you.”

“Well, that was just a drop in the bucket. You can’t break a woman’s heart, ruin her life, and then toss a couple of deeds in her lap, and expect her to go right on as though nothing had happened.”

“Yes, I see your point. That case, I understand, has never been dismissed.”

“It’s dismissed now,” she said.

“It is?”

“Yes. What did you think I came to Oakview for?”

“To visit some of your old friends.”

“I haven’t any friends here. Those I did have have moved away. It seems as though everyone who mattered has moved out of town. What in the world happened to this place?”

“It had some bad luck,” I said. “The railroad changed its division point, and quite a few other things happened.”

She said, “Humph!”

“I take it then, since you’ve dismissed the action, you’re still married to Dr. Lintig.”

“Of course I am.”

“And you haven’t heard from him during the twenty-one-year period since you left?”

“I — say, I thought you weren’t going to talk about this case.”

“Not for publication,” I said. “I was just trying to get your background.”

“Well, you can leave my background out of it.”

“The story,” I said, “should be treated from a human interest angle — the real evils of divorce and all of that. You and Dr. Lintig were well established here and well thought of. You had a host of friend’s. Then, out of a clear sky, this thing happened to you. You found yourself faced with the necessity of beginning life all over.”

She said, “I’m glad you see it from my viewpoint.”

“I’m trying to. I’d like to get a little more of that viewpoint. It would make my story more interesting.”

“You’re tactful,” she said. “I’m not. You know how to write. I don’t.”

“Have I your permission to use my own judgement then?”

“Yes — no. Wait a minute — I guess not. I don’t think you’d better say anything about it. You can say that the action has been dismissed. That’s enough. I don’t want to have my feelings spread out in print to satisfy the curiosity of a lot of morbid scandal-mongers.”

“You didn’t do anything. It was Dr. Lintig.”

“I guess I was a little fool. If I’d known more about life, I’d have kept my eyes closed to what was going on and continued to live on with him as his wife.”

“You mean remained right on here in Oakview?”

She all but shuddered. “Good heavens, no! This town is dead from its — it’s quaint. It’s retained its individuality. It’s all right for the people who like it.”

“Perhaps your travels have brought about a change in you. Perhaps you’ve changed while Oakview is standing still.”

“Perhaps.”

“Where are you living now, Mrs. Lintig?”

“Here in the hotel.”

“I mean what’s your permanent address?”

“Do you want to publish that?”

“Why not?”

She laughed and said, “And I’d have half of the crackpots in town writing to me. No. I’m finished with Oakview, and Oakview can be finished with me. This was a bitter chapter in my life. I want to close it and forget it.”

“Then I should think you’d want the divorce to go through so you could have your freedom.”

“I don’t want my freedom.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s none of your business. My God, can’t I come to town and handle my own affairs without having the newspapers ask me a lot of personal questions?”

“People are interested in you. A lot of people have been speculating on what happened to you.”

“Who?”

“Oh, lots of people.”

“Please be more specific.”

“Just our general readers,” I said.

“I don’t believe it. They wouldn’t remember a person who had moved away ages ago.”

“Have you been discussing the divorce with anyone lately?”

“What if I have?”

“I just wondered.”

“You want to know too much, young man,” she said. “You promised me that you wouldn’t try to pry into my private affairs.”

I said, “Just what you’d care to give us, Mrs. Lintig.”

“Well, I don’t care to give you anything.”

“One would think that, in view of the circumstances, a woman as — you’ll pardon me, Mrs. Lintig — as attractive as you would have met someone for whom you cared and married again.”

“Who said I married again?” she demanded, her eyes hard, black, and glittering.

“It was just speculation.”

“Well, the people in Oakview had better mind their own business, and I’ll mind mine.”

“And, of course, one naturally wonders what happened to Dr. Lintig and to that nurse.”

“I don’t care a snap of my fingers for what happened to him. I have my own life to live.”

“But the effect of dismissing this divorce action is to wipe it off the records. It leaves you legally married to Dr. Lintig. You’re now his legal wife — unless there’s been a divorce in Reno or—”

“Well, there hasn’t.”

“You’re positive of that.”

“I guess I know my own business. I should know what I’ve done.”

“But what has he done?”

“It doesn’t make any difference what he’s done. That divorce action was pending here in Oakview. The Oakview courts had jurisdiction of the entire matter. Until that case was dismissed, he, couldn’t go anywhere and get a divorce that would be worth the paper it was written on.”

“That’s what your attorneys have advised you?”

She said, “Mr. Lam, I think we’ve discussed this matter far enough. I have nothing to say about my affairs for publication. You wanted to know how Oakview looked to me, and I told you. I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I have a splitting headache because of those broken glasses. That stupid bellboy!”

She got up, walked across to the door, and held it open, “You won’t publish anything about Doctor Lintig?”

“The dismissal of the divorce action will appear upon the records.”

“What if it does?”

“It’s news.”

“All right, publish it.”

“And you’re here. That’s news.”

“All right, publish that.”

“And your comments are also news.”

“I haven’t made any. You did the talking, and I don’t care to discuss it. I don’t want you to publish a word I’ve said. Good-bye, Mr. Lam.”

I bowed affably. “Thank you very much for the interview, Mrs. Lintig.”

She slammed the door behind me as I walked out into the corridor. I went back down to the Blade office.

“Do you,” I asked of Marian, “keep a rewrite boy?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Lam,” she said, “for the star reporters, we do.”

“Where is he?”

“Over in that corner. His name is Mr. Corona, Mr. Smith-Corona.”

I said, “Before I go to all that trouble, I’ve had an interesting interview with Mrs. Lintig. She’ll deny it if we publish it, and threatens to sue the paper for libel. Do we publish it or don’t we?”

“We don’t,” she said quickly.

“I could make a swell story out of it, one that would interest your readers.”

“Would it get us any new subscribers?” she asked.

“It should.”

“And where would they come from?”

“That’s taking a low-down, unfair advantage,” I said.

She smiled. “Well, we’re definitely not progressive, Mr. Lam. My uncle is old-fashioned, and he doesn’t like libel suits.”

“He told you to go out to dinner with me and get a story,” I said. “That shows a nose for news.”

She said, “I’m glad you reminded me of my duty. How about that story?”

“No,” I said, “if your uncle publishes it, I’ll sue him for libel.”

“You might at least satisfy my personal curiosity.”

“I know you,” I said. “As soon as you get the story, you’ll quit stringing me along. I prefer to be strung along. Look at the way you showed me how to order dinner.”

She said, “My uncle won’t let me go out with you unless I get results.”

“That,” I admitted, “is a thought. I’ll try and think up something.”

“How did you get along with Evaline Dell’s trunk?” she asked abruptly.

I said, “Now wait a minute. One thing at a time. What’s this about Evaline Dell’s trunk?”

She said, “I have to hand it to you, Donald. You’re resourceful. We checked back on Miller Cross and Evaline Dell and found out the names and addresses were fictitious. That’s as far as we got. Naturally, we checked up on what you’d been doing.”

“And found out what?” I asked.

“That you’d been asking questions about the trunk.”

“And so?”

“And so we wrote the railroad company. I have a letter here this morning stating that a claim was made, not by Evaline Dell, but Evaline D. Harris.”

“Did you get her address?”

“Yes. The railroad company gives country newspapers a break now and then.”

“Are you going to see her?”

“Are you?”

“That depends.”

“What did she say, Donald?”

I shook my head.

She regarded me bitterly for a moment, and said, “You certainly play a funny game, all take and no give.”

I said, “I’m sorry, Marian. You wanted to play partners and pool information. I couldn’t do it that way. You’re working for the newspaper and want a story. I want something else. Publicity wouldn’t help my game any.”

She drew little aimless diagrams with her pencil on the pad of paper in front of her. After a minute, she said, “Well, we understand each other.”

“Your uncle in?” I asked.

“No. He’s gone fishing.”

“When did he go?”

“Early yesterday morning.”

“Then he doesn’t know about the big news.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Lintig’s arrival.”

“Oh,” she said, “he knew that before he left. He didn’t go until after he’d heard about her.”

“And he left you on the job to cover the big event and get the paper out?”

She drew more diagrams before she answered. Then she said, “It isn’t a big event from a news standpoint, Donald. No one here cares very much about Mrs. Lintig. That’s ancient history. The people who knew her moved away. They were the younger set. When business left, they left.”

“Just what did happen to this town?” I asked.

She said, “The bottom dropped out. The railroad moved. The Pennant mine struck a water pocket and the works were flooded. They were never able to pump them out. It’s just been a long succession of things like that. After a city starts on the toboggan, people leave.”

“Your uncle went through the boom?”

“Oh, yes. He’s a native. His feet are anchored in Oakview.”

“How about you?”

Her eyes sparkled with the intensity of her hatred. “If I could only find some way to shake the dust of this dead town off my feet,” she said, “I’d be on my way so quick it would surprise you.” She pointed her finger towards a little closet, and said, “My hat and coat are in there. Show me a way to make a living in the city, and I won’t even stop to put on my hat and coat.”

“Why don’t you come to the city if you feel that way about it, and make some contacts?”

“One of these days I’m going to.”

“And what would Charlie say?”

“You leave Charlie out of it,” she said.

“I don’t suppose your boy friend would be a big man with a cleft chin and a mole on his cheek, would he?”

She drew diagrams at furious speed. “I don’t like to be kidded,” she said.

“I’m not kidding. I’m asking.”

She dropped the pencil to the counter, and looked up at me. “You’re playing a game, Donald Lam,” she said. “You’re not fooling me for a minute. You’re smart, and shrewd, and cautious. There’s something big in the wind. If I could find out what it was, I could use it to get out of this town and get established in something in the city. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Under those circumstances,” I said, “the only thing I can do is to wish you luck.”

“Luck?” she asked.

“Bad luck,” I said, and started for the door.

I could feel her standing at the counter, staring at me, wistful and indignant at the same time, but I didn’t look back.

I walked over to the hotel. The clerk told me long distance was calling. I went to my room, got on the line, and after a ten-minute wait heard Bertha Cool’s voice. She was putting on her best wheedling act. “Donald, darling,” she said, “you mustn’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Walk out on Bertha in a huff.”

“I had work to do,” I said. “I went out and did it. There’d been too much delay as it was. After this, when a telegram comes in collect, addressed to me, pay for it.”

“I will, Donald,” she said. “Bertha was in an awful temper. Some little thing had gone wrong and thrown her all out of balance.”

“Did you,” I asked, “ring me up long distance to tell me about your temper?”

“No, lover. I wanted to tell you that you were right.”

“What about?”

“About Dr. Lintig. I’ve just checked back through the records of the medical board. It took me a little while to get the right line into their office, but I did it.”

“What,” I asked, “did you find out?”

“In 1919,” she said, “Dr. Lintig filed a certificate showing that he had changed his name to Charles Loring Alftmont. So they changed their records accordingly, and he’s now practicing at Santa Carlotta — eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist.”

I said, “That’s fine — only you still haven’t told me what you called up about.”

Her voice was sugar-coated. “Listen, Donald, Bertha needs you.”

“What happened?” I asked.

She said, “In a way, Donald, it’s your fault.”

“What is?”

“We’re fired.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Smith sent me a registered letter. He told me that our instructions were to find Mrs. Lintig, not to bother about Dr. Lintig, that he was very much put out at our failure to follow instructions, and that we weren’t to proceed any farther with the case.”

After a while, when I said nothing, she said, “Hello, Donald. Are you there?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m thinking.”

That got action with Bertha. She said, “Well, for Pete’s sake, don’t think over the long-distance telephone.”

“I’ll see you some time tomorrow,” I said, and hung up, while she was still trying to talk.

I sat and thought for the space of a couple of cigarettes, then I picked up the telephone and said, “Connect me with Mrs. Lintig’s room, will you please?”

The clerk said, “I’m very sorry, Mr. Lam, but she’s checked out. She received a telegram and said she had to leave at once.”

“Did she leave any forwarding address?”

“No.”

“How did she leave, on the train?”

“No. She hired a car — said something about being driven to the nearest place where she could charter a plane.”

I said, “Just a minute. I’m coming down. I want to talk with you.”

I threw my things into my bag, went down to the lobby, and said, “I have to leave — urgent business. Please make out my bill at once. Now, Mrs. Lintig had some spectacles ordered.”

“Yes,” the clerk said, “a most unfortunate accident. The hotel agreed to assume responsibility, although I’m not entirely certain we were to blame.”

“When those glasses come,” I said, “forward them to me at this address.”

I scribbled my address on the back of a card. “They may come C.O.D.,” I said, “or they may be prepaid. In any event, just forward them to me. If there’s a C.O.D., I’ll take it up and relieve the hotel of responsibility. I’m related to Mrs. Lintig. She’s my aunt — but please don’t say anything about it — she’s very sensitive, and she used to live here, you know. There was a divorce. I’ll pay for the glasses.”

“Yes, Mr. Lam. That’s very nice of you.”

I loaded my hag into the agency car and started out for Santa Carlotta.