Is there something else; that you've never told?"

Keith hesitated only momentarily. "Yes."

"I figured there might be." Mel chose his words carefully; he sensed that what was passing between them could be of critical importance. "But I also figured if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me; and if you didn't, well, it was none of my business. Sometimes, though, if you care about someone enough---say, like a brother---you ought to make it your business, whether they want you to butt in or not. So I'm making this mine now." He added softly, "You hear me?"

"Yes," Keith said, "I hear you." He thought: He could stop this conversation, of course; perhaps he should stop it now, at once---since it was pointless---by excusing himself and going back to the radarscope. Mel would assume they could resume later, not knowing that for the two of them together, there would be no later.

"That day at Leesburg," Mel insisted. "The part you've never told---it has something to do with the way you feel, the way you are, right now. Hasn't it?"

Keith shook his head. "Leave it alone, Mel. Please!"

"Then I'm right. There is a relationship, isn't there?"

What was the point of denying the obvious? Keith nodded. "Yes."

"Won't you tell me? You have to tell someone; sooner or later you have to." Mel's voice was pleading, urgent. "You can't live with this thing---whatever it is---inside you forever. Who better to tell than me? I'd understand."

You can't live with this... Who better to tell than me?

It seemed to Keith that his brother's voice, even the sight of Mel, was coming to him through a tunnel, from the distant end, far away. At the farther end of the tunnel, too, were all the other people---Natalie, Brian, Theo, Perry Yount, Keith's friends---with whom he had lost communication long since. Now, of them all, Mel alone was reaching out, striving to bridge the gap between them... but the tunnel was long, their apartness---after all the length of time that Keith had been alone---too great.

And yet...

As if sorreone else were speaking, Keith asked, "You mean tell you here? Now?"

Mel urged, "Why not?"

Why not indeed? Something within Keith stirred; a sense of waating to unburden, even though in the end it could change nothing... Or could it? Wasn't that what the Confessional was all about; a catharsis, an exorcism of sin through acknowledgment and contrition? The difference, of course, was that the Confessional gave forgiveness and expiation, and for Keith there could be no expiation---ever. At least... he hadn't thought so. Now he wondered what Mel might say.

Somewhere in Keith's mind a door, which had been closed, inched open.

"I suppose there's no reason," he said slowly, "why I shouldn't tell you. It won't take long."

Mel remained silent. Instinct told him that if wrong words were spoken they could shatter Keith's mood, could cut off the confidence which seemed about to be given, which Mel had waited so long and anxiously to hear. He reasoned: if he could finally learn what bedeviled Keith, between them they might come to grips with it. Judging by his brother's appearance tonight, it had better be soon.

"You've read the testimony," Keith said. His voice was a monotone. "You just said so. You know most of what happened that day."

Mel nodded.

"What you don't know, or anybody knows except me; what didn't come out at the inquiry, what I've thought about over and over..." Keith hesitated; it seemed as if he might not continue.

"For God's sake! For your own reason, for Natalie's sake, for mine---go on!"