A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, April 1950 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE NINTH LIFE gages all the staff, an’ you’d have to go to his office. But will I see you at Baker’s Arms? You'll be there?” “I’m going there now.” She moved to- ward the door. But then she halted, for the door in the corner almost crashed open, and Tony Briggs strode, even clattered, across the marble floor toward che entrance. Hurry- ing, Phil Vincent got the door swung open for him, and received no reply to his: “Faxi, sir?” Phil turned back to Miss Brandon as the door swung slowly and silently into its place. He said—“She ain’t ‘arf combed is hair for ’im. I reckon she ain’t, by the look of it.” “Why, who are they?” she asked, with evidently intent interest. “Now, look ’ere,” he said persuasively. “Tf I was to be ketched, talkin’ ’ere with you for hours an’ hours like this, Mr. Katzenbaum’d ring up the Labor Ex- change. I'll tell you all about ’1m an’ ’er, if you want, round at the Baker’s Arms, but not in ’ere, see?” : He held the door for her, as she passed out and remembered to turn to the left. © FAR, she reflected, the intuition which she had let guide her had pro- duced a possible source of information, but she had got little out of it. Phil Vincent, too, might prove of more trouble than use, but fully three-quarters of an hour, at least, remained before she would see him again, and she determined to try the Baker’s Arms. She found the private bar door on the first corner, and entered to a clatter of voices. A_ shirt-sleeved, red-nosed man behind the glass-shuttered bar leaned to- ward her, “Any sandwiches?” she inquired. “Course we got sandwiches, ducky. Wadger like?” he asked. “T’d like a little politeness, being a friend of Phil Vincent,’ she told him icily, “And if you've got sandwiches—ham.” “Sus-certainly, miss,”’ he said, with a complete change of manner. “I didn’t know you was one o’ the Gravenor bunch. Anything to drink? “A small port, please.” Previous ex- perience had taught her it was the least noxious: compound she could order in a place of this sort. So she always had tt. She reflected, as she seated herself on a leather-covered bench against the wall opposite the bar, that the Gravenor people demanded, or in any case obtained, re- spectful service. A flaming-haired damsel moved a half-empty stout glass to make room for her and said, “Pardon, ducks,” and Sid—if it were Sid—came from be- hind the bar with a wet rag with which ‘he scrubbed off the area of long table in front of her. “Nice evening, ain't it?” said the red- haired girl. “Quite mild for the time of year,” Miss Brandon responded pleasantly. “We don’t have the winters they used to get,” the other pursued. “It ought to be snowing, this time of year,’ Miss Brandon said. “Yes, and we don’t seem to get no snow, do we?” Miss Brandon leaned forward and began innocently: ‘“What’s this about the care- taker’s little boy round at the Gravenor? I’ve been away, and only just heard about it.” Red-hatr was evidently astonished. “Why, it oughter be in all the papers! Little Ernie kidnapped—anyhow, he’s lorst. Four o’clock today. You see, Miss—” She paused, invitingly. “Oh, just Gracie,” Miss Brandon said recklessly. “And I’m Eileen. Well, you see—do you know Gravenor Mansion, though?” “T’ve only been there once, to make an appointment with Phil.” “Then you don’t know the Parkoots— the caretaker and his wife?” “T believe Phil did mention some name like that,” Miss Brandon lied gravely. “But I didn’t know they were the care- takers.” “Qo, yes! They are! And little Ernie —well, you wouldn’t believe! That kid ain't only just over two, but—’’ She lifted her glass, tilted it, and gurgled once. “As I was sayin’,” she went on, “‘little Ernie’s the apple of his mother’s eye. She do look after that kid. But little Ernie’s lorst, an’ the pleece is on it now, an’ Par- koot is ravin’ distracted, runnin’ up an’ down since four o’clock today. You’d think half London was lorst, the way he’s carryin’ on,” 23 comichoo CS (E(0)