The Phoenix index., 1942-08-29
NATIVE son
INSTALLMENT SO
By RICHARD WRIGHT

1INS 90
BIGGER's EYES were wide,
taking in all three of them in one
rowing glance. Mrs. Dalton contln-
ued to sob and Peggy sank into
a chair, her face in her hands.
Then she sprang up and ran out
of the room, crying:
Lord, don't let them kill her!'
Mrs, Dalton swayed. Mr.. Dalton
lifted her and staggered, trying to
get her through the door. AS he
watched Mr.. Dalton there flashed
through Bigger's mind quick
image of how he had lifted Mary's
body in his arms the night before.
He rose and held the door open for
Mr.. Dalton and watched him walk
unsteadily down the dim hallway
with Mrs. Dalton in his arms.
He was alone in the kitchen now.
Again the thought that he had the
chance to walk out of here and be
clear of it all came to him, and
again he brushed it aside. He was
tenSely. eager to stay and see how
it would all end, even if that end
swallowed him in blackness. He
felt that he was living upon high
pinnacle where bracing winds
whipped about him. There came to
his ears muffled sound of sobs.
Then suddenly there was silence.
What's happening? Would Mr..
Dalton phone the police now? He
strained to listen, but no sounds
came. He went to the door and
took a few steps into the hallway.
There were still no sounds. He look
ed about to make sure that no one
was. watching him, then crept on
tiptoe down the hall. He heard
voices. Mr. Dalton was talking to
someone. He crept farther. yes, he
could hear !. r. want to talk to
Britten please. Mr.. Dalton was
phoning. Come right over please
yes at once something awful has
happened I don't want to talk
about it over the phone. That
meant that when Britten came
back he would be questioned again.
Yes right away I'll be waiting.
He had to get back to his room.
He tiptoed along the hall, through
the kitchen, down the steps and
into the basement. The torrid
cracks of the furnace cleaned in
the crimson darkness and he heard
the throaty undertone of the draft
devouring the air. Was she burnt?
But even if she were not, who
would think of looking in the fur
mace for her? He went to his room
into the closet, closet, closed the
door and listened. Silence. He came
out, left the door open and, in Or
der to get to the closet quickly and
without sound, pulled off his Shoes
He lay again on the bed, his mind
Whirling with images born of a
multitude Of impulses He could run
away; he could remain; he could
even go down and confess what he
had done. The mere thought that
these adventures of action were
open to him made him feel free,
that his life was his, that
he held his future in his hands.
But they would never think that
he had done it; not meek black
boy like him.
He bounded off the bed, listen
ing thinking that he had heard
voices. He had been SO deeply TAX
enjsup with his own thoughts that
he did not know if he had actual
ly heard anything or had imagined
1T. Yes; he heard faint footsteps
below. He hurried to the closet.
The footsteps ceased There came
to him the soft sound of sobbing.
It was Peggy. Her sobbing quieted,
then rose to high pitch. He stood
for a long time, listening to Peg
gy's sobs and the long moan of
the wind sweeping through the
night outside. Peggy's sobs ceased
and her footsteps sounded once
more. Was she going to answer the
doorbell? Footsteps came again:
Peggy had gone to the front of the
house for something and had come
back. He heard heavy voice, a
mans. At first he could not identi-
fy it; then he realized that it was
Britten's.
g.. and you found the note?"
eyes"
How long ago?"
9"About an hour"