The Second Confesion

Naturally I did not approve of it. At a public beach, or even at a private beach or pool where there is a crowd of strangers and he changes with other males in a common room, a man has a right to guard something valuable by putting it into a waterproof container and keeping it next to his hide, and he may even be a sap if he doesn't. But Rony, being a house guest like the rest of us, had changed in his own room, which wasn't far from mine on the second floor. It is not nice to be suspicious of your hosts or fellow guests, and even if you think you ought to be there must have been at least a dozen first-class hiding places in Rony's room for an object small enough to go in that thing he kept worrying about. It was an insult to everybody, including me. It was true that he kept his worry so inconspicuous that apparently no one else noticed it, but he had no right to take such a risk of hurting our feelings, and I resented it and intended to do something about it.

Madeline's fingers touched my arm. I finished a sip of my Tom Collins and turned my head.

“Yeah?” “Yeah what?” she smiled, opening her eyes.

“You touched me.” “No, did I? Nothing.” It was evidently meant as a teaser, but I was watching Gwenn poise for a back flip, and anyway there was an interruption. Paul Emerson had wandered over and now growled down at me.

“I forgot to mention it, Goodwin, I don't want any pictures unless they have my okay-I mean for publication.” I tilted my head back. “You mean any at all, or just of you?” “I mean of me. Please don't forget that.” “Sure. I don't blame you.” When he had made it to the edge of the pool and fallen in, presumably on purpose, Madeline spoke.

“Do you think a comparative stranger like you ought to take swipes at a famous character like him?” “I certainly do. You shouldn't be surprised, if you know my repertory so well.

What was that crack, anyhow?” “Oh-when we go in I guess I'll have to show you something. I should control my tongue better.” On the other side Rony and Connie Emerson had got their breath back and were making a dash for the pool. Jimmy Sperling, whom I preferred to think of as Junior, called to ask if I could use a refill, and Webster Kane said he would attend to it. Gwenn stopped before me, dripping again, to say that the light would soon be right for the west terrace and we ought to put on some clothes, and didn't I agree with her?