A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, April 1950 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

THE NINTH LIFE 85 “Well, I’d never have thought a London agency would send a man down, but—”’ he gave the undersized, goggle-eyed man a disapproving look— i suppose they felt they could spare you.’ “You think—today finishes it, Inspec- tor?” “T’ve nothing whatever to tell you,” Perry answered stiffly. “Well, if you feel like that, that’s how you feel,” Drake observed quite cheer- fully. He began polishing his glasses. “TI dunno why,” he added, “but my specs will fog, down here, Something in the air.” Perry glanced .at the bulging lenses. “Your sight must be in a pretty bad way, to need things like those,” he said less coldly. “Tt’s in a bad way,” Drake said. “I’m utterly helpless without these. Now I haven’t got '’em on—” he turned directly toward the inspector—“you’re no more than a fuzzy line to me. That is, I can see you're a man, but not where your neck leaves off and your head begins.”’ He replaced them on his nose. “This show won't last long, will it?” “T have no idea how long,” Perry answered, stiffening. “Well, it seems you’ve everything all set, cause of death absolutely plain, and no complications—especially since that Mr. Green bagged the second of the two wild cats last night.” “Since you know all about, it, you don’t need information from me,’’ Perry re- marked. “And the tie-up with the Gravenor Mansions affair falls to the ground,” Drake observed, carefully watching the inspec- tor’s face. “What affair was that?” Perry asked casually. ‘‘There’s the corner, though— excuse me.” He hurried across the hall, glad to get away, and Drake nodded to himself before taking off those trouble- some spectacles to give them another rub. As he rubbed, a voice beside him said: “Blessed if it ain’t young George Drake!” and he hastily replaced the glasses to re- cognize a boyhood acquaintance. “Bill!” he exclaimed, and offered his hand. “How are your” “Oh, able to take nourishment, y’know,”’ Bill admitted, “What's fetched you down here, George? I thought you were in London?” But it sure sis nice to catch a glimpse of you again.” “I represent the press. Sent down to cover this inquest. D’you still live around this way?” “Yes, I got a little place—maybe you'll remember it. The farm Taylor used to have, down in Barnby. Mostly dairy pasture,’’ “Oh, yes, I remember it all right. And the Grange—I heard from somebody it was let, a little while back. All done up, I suppose ?”’ ““No—look like fallin’ down any minute, like it allus did. Damp old place—any place’d be damp with five-and-twenty foot of water all around it. If it was mine, I’d drain that old moat, right off.” “Ah!” Drake made the monosyllable sound appreciative. “‘What sort of people were they who hired it, do you know any- thing about them ?”’ “Tt were a woman,” Bill told him, “ not people at all. Except she got an wd sorter man to drive her big car. Foreigner, he is. We don’t see much of her or him— they’re in London, mostly. An’ the three maids she had there all run off an’ left, because them big cats which was the cause o’ this inquest turned up there an’ scared ’em. Didn’t do ’em no harm, but scared one gal most outer her wits.” Which was no news to Drake, but, having led the talk in the way he wanted, he hoped for better things. “You mean,” he suggested, “the cats belonged there— they belonged to this woman?” “Nobody’ll go so far as to say that,” Bill hinted darkly. “This gal reckoned she see ‘em upstairs i’ the middle o’ the night, though. Reckoned they was ghosts, she — did, an’ cleared off next mornin’.” “They might not have been the same cats,” Drake conjectured. “A pair, big an’ yellerish, she said— an’ the two which was killed like that— big an’ yellerish. There wouldn't be two pair like that round here.” “Well, I’d like a talk with you later on, Bill, for the sake of old times,” Drake said. “I'd find you down at your place round about six, would [?” “Yes, I'll be there—” “Silence, please!” Drake took out his notebook—to be ready to write. cComicbooks.com