In another moment her features softened, her voice grew pleading. "It isn't too late, Terry. Forget that girl. Tip off the police so they'll be ready for her the next time she shows up. They don't have to know exactly what you saw--or what you did. We'll keep that to ourselves, Terry. We'll start over again ... you and I." * * * * * Bryan stared at her, shocked by the bargain she was suggesting. She was asking him to doom Leeta, to sacrifice his pride and his hopes in return for her silence. It was a kind of blackmail, in which she was seeking to use the tragedy of Mulvaney for her own purposes. He found in this a wrong somehow vastly greater than in what Leeta had done--for this was knowing, calculating. He had always regarded Joyce as a friend, understanding and sympathetic. Now he realized these qualities were only a veneer, and in the stress of what had happened the veneer had been stripped away. An underlying ugliness was revealed--an ugliness that seemed to be the very foundation of a world he had come to despise. Slowly, grimly, he shook his head. "You're asking too much for what you have to sell, Joyce. If I have to pick between you and Leeta, then...." She stiffened as though struck. "Leeta!" she spat. "So you know her name, do you? Now I see you must have been cozy with her all along--that's why you helped her commit murder!" Her voice grew shrill and breathless with fury. "All right, Terry! You're asking for it. I've made a fool of myself in front of everyone, chasing after you, throwing myself at you. This is where I even up the score.... The police might not believe what I just saw, but I'll tell them a story they'll swallow without tasting. They just love people who help kill cops. And they already have a crush on you over the run-around you gave them after the last killing. If you aren't sent to the chair, you're dead certain to get a job cracking shells in a nuthouse. Everybody knows you've been going to pieces, and they won't be surprised to hear you've finally blown your top." She stood facing him a moment longer, her eyes blazing with deadly promise. Then she whirled and was running swiftly toward one of the paths that led away from the pavilion. Bryan gazed after her, realizing that he might have made a serious mistake. But he was somehow unable to care. He had an enormous sense of futility, defeat. All his hopes, the very course of his life, had come to center about this evening's meeting with Leeta--and she had slipped from him. There would not be another chance. Joyce had made it clear that the sands of time were running out for him.