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Jane trying to get me down to Skaneateles?”
    Harriet was shivering in her thin silk. “Come in before your freeze,” said John, steering her inside and closing the sliding door. “No—I can’t. But I don’t know how significant that is. What would you like me to do? See if we can get some sort of response from the locals in Skaneateles? It’s easy enough.”
    Harriet shook her head. “No. That won’t help. I have to go down there. There’s something unpleasant going on and for some reason Jane wants my help. Don’t look at me like that. When I arrive, I’ll get in touch with the local police, saying I had a suicidal letter from my friend and I’m worried about her. They’ll come along with me to her house, won’t they? So if there’s anything—” She paused to look up at Sanders. “I can’t get away until after three tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter. It really isn’t very far.” By now, her voice had dropped to a calculating mutter. “Four hours, maybe a little longer. I’ll be there before the sun goes down. There’s a nice inn—there should be a room available in the middle of the week. And if it’s just a tempest in a teapot, as my mother used to say, then there really are some good buildings there to photograph. It won’t be a wasted trip. For God’s sake, John, say something. Don’t just stand there looking at me.”
    â€œI was waiting for you to finish,” he said, shaking his head. “Harriet, you are incorrigible. You get this letter saying, ‘Dear fly—I’m caught here in the middle of this awful web. Do you think you could come up and help me out of it? Your pal, spider.’ I have no idea why your old pal, Jane, or whoever it is, wants you to visit her in some small town—”
    â€œVillage, I’d call it,” said Harriet.
    â€œâ€”village, but I doubt if it’s for your benefit. Harriet, for chrissake, there you go again, walking straight into the stupidest things.”
    â€œThanks,” she said coldly. “For the vote of confidence. What are you trying to do? Convince me that I can’t look after myself? I had enough of that from Beaumont.”
    â€œHarriet, I know you can look after yourself as much as anyone can—all I’m asking is that you stop trying to prove to the entire world that you’re invulnerable.”
    â€œThen stop treating me as if I was made of glass, nagging me every time I set foot outside alone.”
    â€œI know you’re not made of glass. But you live in the middle of an area where some maniac has been attacking women; you wander around as if you were untouchable; and then you complain that Beaumont destroyed your nerve. If he did, I see no signs of it. You pay no attention to the real dangers in the world and get all upset over one stupid bastard’s bullying.”
    â€œI don’t.” Harriet began pacing back and forth, pausing to pick up books and put them back in the bookcase. “And besides, it has to do with trust and betrayal, not courage. That bastard who’s out there stalking women—he’s not a friend of mine. I never liked him. I never thought he was a nice man, who would treat me as an equal. I did believe in Guy—for a while, anyway. It was a—a shock.”
    â€œSo it was a shock. You’re a tough woman. Tough and courageous. That’s why I fell in love with you. And I am not Guy Beaumont. I don’t like women who turn out to be marshmallows and I don’t have any desire to turn any woman into a marshmallow. I wish you would remember that.”
    â€œA marshmallow?” said Harriet, in an odd voice, and sat down suddenly on the chesterfield.
    He crouched in front of her, his hands on her knees. “Harriet, please don’t go down there. I’m begging you, all right? Write her, telephone her, find out what the