A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 74: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

- gince we left,’ 74 A. MERRITT’S FANTASY “Not unless Dr. Bennett has told her I answered. Uneasily I wondered whether he had, and cursed my stupidity for not getting his promise that —he wouldn’t. He considered me for a time, then said: _ “Okay, Doc. But I’ve got to tell the boss . when he comes.” I laughed, and said: “Okay, McCann. By that time the game may be all over— except the post- -ortems.’ He asked, sha: ply : “What do you mean by that?” I answered: “Nothing.” And went on with my packing. The truth was I didn’t know myself what I had meant. He said: “You figure on getting there some time tomorrow evening. I'll be up at the old goat’s with some of the lads long before dusk. Probably won’t get to this house I been telling you of until next day. But nothing’s likely to happen right off. ' You.got any plans how we're going to get together ?”’ “I’ve been thinking about that.” I stopped the packing, and sat on the bed. “I’m not so sure how much I’m going to be under surveillance, or what liberty I'll _ have. The situation is—well. unusual and complicated. Obviously, I can't trust to - letters or telegrams. I might ride to the village, but that doesn’t mean I could get in touch with you when I got there, be- cause I don’t think I'd be riding alone. Even if you happened to be there, it would _ be highly impolitic to recognize and talk - to you. The de Keradels are no fools, Mc- Cann, and they would realize the. situation - perfectly. Until I’ve been on the other side of de Keradel’s wall, I can suggest only one thing.” “You talk like you been sentenced an’ bound for the Big House,” he grinned amiably. “T believe in looking for the worst,” I said. “Then you're never disappointed. That being so—put this down, McCann— a telegram to. Dr. Bennett which reads, ‘Feeling fine. Don’t forget to forward all mail,’ means that you're to get over that wall despite hell or high water as quick as you.can and up to the house as quick as you can and damn the torpedoes. Get that, McCann ?” “Okay,” he said. “But I got-an idea or two likewise. First—nobody’s going \to keep you from writing after you get there, Okay again. You write an’ you find some - excuse to get to the village. You get out ~ tc this Beverly House I been telling you — about an’ go in. Don’t matter who’s with ~ you, you'll find some way to drop that let-~ ter on the floor or somewhere. You don’t — have to give it to nobody. After you go they'll comb the place through to find it. An’ I'll get it. That’s one line, “Next—they’ll be a couple of lads fish | ing around the north side of that wall all the time—that’s the left end of it coming — from the house. There’s a breast of rock — there, an’ I don’t see why you can’t climb ~ up that to look at the surroundings, all by yourself. Hell, you’re inside the wall an’ © why should they stop you? Then if you’ve writ another note an’ put it in a little bot- tle an’ casually throw some stones an’ among ’em the bottle, the lads being on the look-out for just such stuff will just as casually rope it in.’ “Fine,” I said, and poured him a drink. He thought for a bit, then asked: “How well you heeled, Doc ?” I showed him my .32 automatic. He shook his head: “This is better, Doc.” He reached under his left armpit and un- strapped a holster. In it was an extra- ordinarily compact little gun, short-bar- — reled, squat. “Tt shoots a .38,” he said. ‘“Ain’t noth- ing under armor plate stands up against that, Doc. Tote your others but stick this under your arm. Keep it there, asleep or awake. Keep it hid. There's a few extra clips in that pocket of the holster.” I said: “Thanks, Mac.” And threw it on the bed. He sighed again, and arose. “You got too much curiosity, Doc. Well, play your hand your own way—” At the door he turned. “Anyway, the boss’ll like you. You got guts.” Ta next morning I taxied leisurely to — Larchmont; arrived at the Club short- ly before noon and was told that a boat from the Brittis was awaiting me at the | landing stage. I went down to the boat. | There were three men on it—Bretons or Basques, I couldn’t tell which, oddly | enough. Rather queer looking—stolid faces, the pupils of their eyes unusually — dilated, skins sallow. One turned his eyes 4 comichook i i