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Kincaid?”
    She stopped as though I had shot her. I took her arm instinctively. She flung away my hand, and opened her mouth as if to call out for help. No sound came out. The other students around us, passing on the wide mall or chatting on the steps, paid no attention to her silent scream.
    “I’d like very much to talk to you, Mrs. Kincaid.”
    She pushed her hair back, so forcefully that one of her eyes slanted up and gave her a Eurasian look. “Who are you?”
    “A friend of your husband’s. You’ve given Alex a bad three weeks.”
    “I suppose I have,” she said, as if she had only just thought of it.
    “You must have had a bad three weeks yourself, if you’re fond of him at all. Are you?”
    “Am I what?” She seemed to be slightly dazed.
    “Fond of Alex.”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it. I don’t wish to discuss it, with you or anyone. Are you really a friend of Alex’s?”
    “I think I can claim to be. He doesn’t understand what you’re doing to him. He’s a pretty sad young man.”
    “No doubt he caught it from me. Spreading ruin is my specialty.”
    “It doesn’t have to be. Why don’t you call it off, whateveryou’re doing, and give it another try with Alex? He’s waiting for you here in town right now.”
    “He can wait till doomsday, I’m not going back to him.”
    Her young voice was surprisingly firm, almost harsh. There was something about her eyes I didn’t like. They were wide and dry and fixed, eyes which had forgotten how to cry.
    “Did Alex hurt you in some way?”
    “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. You know that, if you’re really a friend of his. He’s a nice harmless boy, and
I
don’t want to hurt
him.”
She added with conscious drama: “Tell him to congratulate himself on his narrow escape.”
    “Is that the only message you have for your husband?”
    “He isn’t my husband, not really. Tell him to get an annulment. Tell him I’m not ready to settle down. Tell him I’ve decided to finish my education.”
    She made it sound like a solitary trip to the moon, one-way.
    I went back to the Administration Building. The imitation flagstone pavement of the mall was flat and smooth, but I had the feeling that I was walking knee-deep in gopher holes. Dean Sutherland’s door was closed and, when I knocked, her “Come in” was delayed and rather muffled.
    Dean Bradshaw was still with her, looking more than ever like a college student on whom light frost had fallen during the night.
    She was flushed, and her eyes were bright emerald green. “This is Mr. Archer, Brad, the detective I told you about.”
    He gave my hand a fiercely competitive grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Actually,” he said with an attempt at a smile, “it’s rather a mixed pleasure under the circumstances. I very much regret the necessity of your coming here to our campus.”
    “The kind of work I do has to be done,” I said a little defensively. “Mrs. Kincaid ran out on her husband, and some explanation is due him. Did she give any to you?”
    Dean Sutherland put on her grim face. “She’s not returningto him. She found out something on their wedding night so dreadful—”
    Bradshaw raised his hand. “Wait a minute, Laura. The facts she divulged to you are in the nature of professional confidences. We certainly don’t want this chap running back to her husband with them. The poor girl is frightened enough as it is.”
    “Frightened of her husband? I find that hard to believe,” I said.
    “She didn’t pour out her heart to you,” Laura Sutherland cried warmly. “Why do you suppose the poor child used a fake name? She was mortally afraid that he would track her down.”
    “You’re being melodramatic, you know.” Bradshaw’s tone was indulgent. “The boy can’t be as bad as all that.”
    “You didn’t hear her, Brad. She told me things, as woman to woman, that I haven’t even told you, and I don’t intend to.”
    I said: “Perhaps she was