short, well-rounded silhouette, as clear and sharp as the figures in a magic lantern show. It was unmistakably Mr. Mazzeeck, and he appeared to be doing something with the object in his hands.
Harry felt a thrill of awful anticipation, like when the background music in a horror picture tells you that something terrible is about to leap out at you. It didn’t exactly look like a sword in Mr. Mazzeeck’s hands; but maybe that was only because of the angle the light was hitting it.
Then, as the imaginary horror music reached a brain-numbing climax, Harry realized that Mr. Mazzeeck was not alone in his room. Harry was sure he hadn’t so much as blinked, but somehow he had missed the arrival of the huge shadowy figure that now faced the shorter, rounder silhouette. The other man seemed to have a huge head and shoulders, and as he towered over Mr. Mazzeeck, he swayed backward and forward, as if he were unsteady on his feet.
For less than a minute, hardly long enough for Harry to convince himself that he was really seeing it, the second figure in Mr. Mazzeeck’s room cast its shadow against the shade. Then, while Harry still stared in unblinking fascination, it began to change. First, it became softer and less distinct; it wavered more than ever and became blurry around the edges. Then suddenly, it shrank away to nothing. The shorter shadow stayed for a moment; then it disappeared too. But it only seemed to walk away from the window.
It was some time before Harry began to realize that he was in a very uncomfortable position on the roof of the carriage house. He was cold and stiff, and he had been staring at the golden rectangle of window-shade for so long that he felt a little cross-eyed. He had to blink several times and rub his eyes before he could focus well enough to find his way down the stairs and across the yard to the back door.
On his way upstairs he stopped for a moment and listened outside Mr. Mazzeeck’s door, but everything was quiet. Up in his own room, he threw himself down on the bed and thought and thought and thought.
Who was the other man in Mr. Mazzeeck’s room? What had Mr. Mazzeeck been holding in his hands? If someone fell to the floor in front of a window, would his shadow on the shade appear to shrink away?
The longer Harry thought about it, the harder it was to remember just exactly what he had seen. By the time he gave up trying to figure it out, he wasn’t at all sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
The next few days were terrible, at least in the mornings and evenings when all the borders were home. It turned out that Miss Clyde really lived on what she called her “private income” and only had “occasional engagements” at night clubs. Mom said she thought Miss Clyde got alimony from somebody she used to be married to, but Harry had seen her once in the hall without her make-up, and he figured that maybe the “private income” was an old age pension. Anyway she didn’t go to work much, so she was around the boarding house an awful lot.
Harry was just about going crazy, trying to keep his eye on Mr. Mazzeeck and Miss Clyde and Mr. Brighton all at the same time. And as if things weren’t bad enough, he started having to keep a watch on Mom and Mr. Konkel, too.
Harry had always known that Mr. Konkel was sort of gone on Mom, but he’d never worried about it, because it was pretty plain that Mom didn’t like him any more than Harry did. And that wasn’t much. In fact, Harry and Mom had had a joke about Mr. Konkel for a long time. When no one else was around, of course, Mom would say something like, “There goes Oscar Konkel, the man-like machine.”
“It walks, it talks, it breathes, it’s almost human,” Harry would say, “but it has a ticker tape for a heart.”
“And a slide rule for a brain,” Mom would add. Sometimes they got so funny on the subject, that for a day or two they couldn’t look at each other when Mr. Konkel was around without wanting to
Harry felt a thrill of awful anticipation, like when the background music in a horror picture tells you that something terrible is about to leap out at you. It didn’t exactly look like a sword in Mr. Mazzeeck’s hands; but maybe that was only because of the angle the light was hitting it.
Then, as the imaginary horror music reached a brain-numbing climax, Harry realized that Mr. Mazzeeck was not alone in his room. Harry was sure he hadn’t so much as blinked, but somehow he had missed the arrival of the huge shadowy figure that now faced the shorter, rounder silhouette. The other man seemed to have a huge head and shoulders, and as he towered over Mr. Mazzeeck, he swayed backward and forward, as if he were unsteady on his feet.
For less than a minute, hardly long enough for Harry to convince himself that he was really seeing it, the second figure in Mr. Mazzeeck’s room cast its shadow against the shade. Then, while Harry still stared in unblinking fascination, it began to change. First, it became softer and less distinct; it wavered more than ever and became blurry around the edges. Then suddenly, it shrank away to nothing. The shorter shadow stayed for a moment; then it disappeared too. But it only seemed to walk away from the window.
It was some time before Harry began to realize that he was in a very uncomfortable position on the roof of the carriage house. He was cold and stiff, and he had been staring at the golden rectangle of window-shade for so long that he felt a little cross-eyed. He had to blink several times and rub his eyes before he could focus well enough to find his way down the stairs and across the yard to the back door.
On his way upstairs he stopped for a moment and listened outside Mr. Mazzeeck’s door, but everything was quiet. Up in his own room, he threw himself down on the bed and thought and thought and thought.
Who was the other man in Mr. Mazzeeck’s room? What had Mr. Mazzeeck been holding in his hands? If someone fell to the floor in front of a window, would his shadow on the shade appear to shrink away?
The longer Harry thought about it, the harder it was to remember just exactly what he had seen. By the time he gave up trying to figure it out, he wasn’t at all sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
The next few days were terrible, at least in the mornings and evenings when all the borders were home. It turned out that Miss Clyde really lived on what she called her “private income” and only had “occasional engagements” at night clubs. Mom said she thought Miss Clyde got alimony from somebody she used to be married to, but Harry had seen her once in the hall without her make-up, and he figured that maybe the “private income” was an old age pension. Anyway she didn’t go to work much, so she was around the boarding house an awful lot.
Harry was just about going crazy, trying to keep his eye on Mr. Mazzeeck and Miss Clyde and Mr. Brighton all at the same time. And as if things weren’t bad enough, he started having to keep a watch on Mom and Mr. Konkel, too.
Harry had always known that Mr. Konkel was sort of gone on Mom, but he’d never worried about it, because it was pretty plain that Mom didn’t like him any more than Harry did. And that wasn’t much. In fact, Harry and Mom had had a joke about Mr. Konkel for a long time. When no one else was around, of course, Mom would say something like, “There goes Oscar Konkel, the man-like machine.”
“It walks, it talks, it breathes, it’s almost human,” Harry would say, “but it has a ticker tape for a heart.”
“And a slide rule for a brain,” Mom would add. Sometimes they got so funny on the subject, that for a day or two they couldn’t look at each other when Mr. Konkel was around without wanting to
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