A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, April 1950 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

THE NINTH LIFE 51 “Ah! About that Kefra woman’s ante- cedents, you mean?” Gees refrained from squirming. He said: “Yes, and the other people tn the story. The man in it—the one you said was an agent provocateur. Was he ever caught, do you know?” _ The general shook his head. “He van- ished completely.” “Did you ever see him?” “No. I had his description given me.” =e I suggest,” Gees said slowly, ; “that he was a small man, with a not very dark complexion, and remark- ably young-looking blue eyes. Very strik- ing eyes, incongruous in such a face as his, though I can’t describe his face as it was thirty-eight years ago, naturally. [ suggest further that his name was Saleh.” He spelled the name out. “Ah!” his father exclaimed softly. “There was another woman in it, you told me,” Gees said. “One who was killed in a particularly brutal way. You knew her name?” “Not till after she was dead,” the gen- eral answered. “In that service, we do not deal largely in names, which anyone may assume.”’ “Does it matter about revealing the dead woman’s name now, at this length of time?” Gees inquired after a pause. “Sadie Hillman, wasn’t it ?—American.” “Gordon, you have got access to rec- ords in some way!” the general barked at him. " That is—there is a leakage—I must—”’ “T assure you, Father, there has been no leakage. You can rely on my keeping absolutely still, Father,’ Gees assured him rather earnestly, “especially since the story concerns you in the way it does.” He drank the rest of his sherry. “Yes. Certainly Gordon—certainly. But—well, you have amazed me. That you should know both those names!” In turn he put down an empty glass and rose to his feet. “T must say, Gordon, my opinion of your activities in that office of yours has changed considerably since—er—since you dropped that infernally vulgar adver- tisement about mumps to murder,” his father, said, over their lunch. “The cases in which your name has come to public notice, and now this present instance of unexpected knowledge, go to show that your work has a certain efficiency about it. Ah! [ suppose you would not—er— disclose any of the sources from which you obtain information? Such as those names, for instance ?”’ “Since you were once in intelligence, you ought to know anything of that sort is qttite impossible,’ Gees told him. © “Yes—yes, of course, and I cannot re- sent your discretion. No. And although it may sound a strange thing to say to one’s own son, it gratifies me exceedingly that you and I get on together so much better than we did a year or two ago. In fact, at times I begin to feel almost proud of you, Gordon.” “Sentiment entirely reciprocated, Fa- ther,” Gees said, and managed a smile. “Let me give you a hand with your coat.” The general adjusted the coat collar carefully, and took his gloves from its pocket. “I want you to come and dine with me one evening next week,” he re- marked, “and bring that Miss Brandon of yours.” The inference was altogether too plain, Gees reflected as he went on his way. Since the old boy had discovered that Eve Madeleine was well connected, niece of one of his friends of service days and daughter of another military man he had known, he had not been sparing of these hints, though he had never gone as far as this before. But, Gees told himself, that dinner would be eaten without him; on Saturday Kefra would return to London —before the definite invitation material- ized, he hoped. His yale key proved sticky in the lock of the outer door of his flat, as it often. did, and he cursed it softly, volubly, fiercely, with more intense irritation than ever before. Entering, he closed the door, shied his hat viciously to the far end of the corridor, and entered Miss Brandon’s room to find her looking up from her chair at the desk with a sort of question- ing surprise.. He said—‘“I’m sorry, Miss Brandon—that infernal lock annoyed me.’ Reiraining from reply, she noted that the hitherto inevitable cigarette case did — not appear. Presently she moved some papers on the desk and observed: “I put | comicbooks.com