A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, April 1950 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

74 A. MERRITT’S FANTASY us he’d just had a similar case, one of the farmers round here had been to him with his hand all torn to shreds by a pet cat that fiad gone mad. Some disease attack- ing the cats, by the look of things.” _ “It might be,” Gees observed, “and again might not. Is Sergeant wie vee badly hurt?” “Out of action tie a day or two, lI should say,” Tott answered. “So it looks as if this case has nothing to‘do with the one in London. At least, that’s Perry’s view.” “And Perry considers his case closed?” Gees half-questioned. “Considers it closed?” Tott echoed irritably. “It zs closed! With what that ordinary little cat did to Willis—what a thing that size was able to do before we got it off him, and the size and weight of the thing they destroyed in the woods today, there’s only one thing for a coroner to do at the inquest on the girl.” “And the bruises we saw?” Gees in- quired thoughtfully. “Caused while she was playing with the other children—caused by any one of a dozen means,” Tott insisted. ‘‘What’s in your mind?” “You'd be surprised,” Gees answered, and left it at that. “I suppose, if that wild cat hadn’t turned up to provide Inspector Perry with his solution of the mystery, you'd have been calling at the Grange?” “T might have called, but I shouldn’t have stayed the night,” Tott said, and took a briar pipe out of his pocket and looked at it. “Have one of my cigarettes.” Gees’ case flew open as he offered it. “A village like this, of course, is hell for scandal.” _“T won’t smoke any more just now, hank you,” Tott said, and put his pipe yack in his pocket. “It’s quite true—in laces like this, people will talk, and it’s unlikely that anyone else would have left a Rolls-Bentley standing out there all night. Same colors, too.” “T take it,” Gees suggested, “your in- terest in the fact is what you might call academic—or is it?” “My interest—” Tott began, and broke off to gaze toward the opening door. Gees looked over his shoulder, and saw a small, swarthy, blue-chinned man, ap- ‘ -the query. “I didn’t mention him. Why’ parently in the late twenties or early thir- ties, a frail-looking being whose eyes appeared distorted behind horn-rimmed lenses of, evidently, very high correc- tive strength. Even with those aids to vision he peered, craning his neck in Tott’s direction, after he had closed the door and faced toward the fireplace again. He said, in a deep, booming voice which ought to have emanated from a giant: “Why, Mr. Tott! Well, well!” Tott snapped out: “Mr. Green, this is a presshound who goes by the name of Drake.” ““How-de-do, Mr. Green?” Drake said, and smiled, quite unabashed. “The in- spector will have his little jokes, of course. I don’t mind! But if there’s any story going, Mr. Tott—well, you know me.’ “You're barking up a fruitless tree. It’s no more than a provincial and perfectly simple tragedy—” “And no connection with any other tragedy, huh?” Drake boomed, interrupt- ing. “Because I covered another case before I left London.” “T’d advise you to forget that when you tackle this,” Tott said, The pressman swung a chair round from the nearest table and planted it at the edge of the hearthrug, midway be- tween the two in their armchairs, got all there is to be had in the bars, about cats going mad and all that, and still—y’see, Mr. Tott, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what Inspector Crampton went after—and got!—at Gravenor Man- sions,” “T’d advise you not to make use of that idea,’’ Tott said ominously. “Oh, quite! I’m not fool enough to weigh in any story I can’t stand for.” He took off his horn-rimmed specta- cles, wiped his eyes with a silk handker- chief, polished the lenses of the glasses, and put them on again to gaze at Tott with an expression of smug satisfaction. “The information,” Gees observed, and Drake turned his head with a start toward the speaker, “is as welcome as it is un- expected. What did you say was the naine of the man on duty in the Gravenor entrance ?”’ “J—I didn’t say anything about pint Drake answered, rather taken aback by “T’ve | Eomichoo SS (ECO)