“That’s
all right,” she said. “Have you heard much of him?”
“He
had some interesting barbarian ideas on death,” said Lantry.
“Horrible
ones,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Ghastly.”
“Yes.
Ghastly. Abominable, in fact. Good thing he was burned. Unclean. By the way, do
you have any of Lovecraft?”
“Is
that a sex book?”
Lantry
exploded with laughter. “No, no. It’s a man.”
She
riffled the file. “He was burned, too. Along with Poe.”
“I
suppose that applies to Machen and a man named Derleth and one named Ambrose
Bierce, also?”
“Yes.”
She shut the file cabinet. “All burned. And good riddance.” She gave him an odd
warm look of interest. “I bet you’ve just come back from Mars.”
“Why
do you say that?”
“There
was another explorer in here yesterday. He’d just made the Mars hop and return.
He was interested in supernatural literature, also. It seems there are actually
‘tombs’ on Mars.”
“What
are ‘tombs’?” Lantry was learning to keep his mouth closed.
“You
know, those things they once buried people in.”
“Barbarian
custom. Ghastly!”
“ Isn’t it? Well, seeing the Martian tombs
made this young explorer curious. He came and asked if we had any of those
authors you mentioned. Of course we haven’t even a smitch of their stuff.” She
looked at his pale face. “You are one
of the Martian rocket men, aren’t you?”
“Yes,”
he said. “Got back on the ship the other day.”
“The
other young man’s name was Burke.”
“Of
course. Burke! Good friend of mine!”
“Sorry
I can’t help you. You’d best get yourself some vitamin shots and some sun
lamps. You look terrible, Mr.—?”
“Lantry.
I’ll be good. Thanks ever so much. See you next Hallows’ Eve!”
“Aren’t
you the clever one.” She laughed. “If there were a Hallows’ Eve, I’d make it a date.”
“But
they burned that , too,” he said.
“Oh,
they burned everything,” she said. “Good night.”
“Good
night.” And he went on out.
Oh,
how carefully he was balanced in this world! Like some kind of dark gyroscope,
whirling with never a murmur, a very silent man. As he walked along the eight
o’clock evening street he noticed with particular interest that there was not
an unusual amount of lights about. There were the usual street lights at each
corner, but the blocks themselves were only faintly illuminated. Could it be
that these remarkable people were not afraid
of the dark? Incredible nonsense! Every
one was afraid of the dark. Even he himself had been afraid, as a child. It was as natural as eating.
A
little boy ran by on pelting feet, followed by six others. They yelled and
shouted and rolled on the dark cool October lawn, in the leaves. Lantry looked
on for several minutes before addressing himself to one of the small boys who
was for a moment taking a respite, gathering his breath into his small lungs,
as a boy might blow to refill a punctured paper bag.
“Here,
now,” said Lantry. “You’ll wear yourself out.”
“Sure,”
said the boy.
“Could
you tell me,” said the man, “why there are no street lights in the middle of
the blocks?”
“Why?”
asked the boy.
all right,” she said. “Have you heard much of him?”
“He
had some interesting barbarian ideas on death,” said Lantry.
“Horrible
ones,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Ghastly.”
“Yes.
Ghastly. Abominable, in fact. Good thing he was burned. Unclean. By the way, do
you have any of Lovecraft?”
“Is
that a sex book?”
Lantry
exploded with laughter. “No, no. It’s a man.”
She
riffled the file. “He was burned, too. Along with Poe.”
“I
suppose that applies to Machen and a man named Derleth and one named Ambrose
Bierce, also?”
“Yes.”
She shut the file cabinet. “All burned. And good riddance.” She gave him an odd
warm look of interest. “I bet you’ve just come back from Mars.”
“Why
do you say that?”
“There
was another explorer in here yesterday. He’d just made the Mars hop and return.
He was interested in supernatural literature, also. It seems there are actually
‘tombs’ on Mars.”
“What
are ‘tombs’?” Lantry was learning to keep his mouth closed.
“You
know, those things they once buried people in.”
“Barbarian
custom. Ghastly!”
“ Isn’t it? Well, seeing the Martian tombs
made this young explorer curious. He came and asked if we had any of those
authors you mentioned. Of course we haven’t even a smitch of their stuff.” She
looked at his pale face. “You are one
of the Martian rocket men, aren’t you?”
“Yes,”
he said. “Got back on the ship the other day.”
“The
other young man’s name was Burke.”
“Of
course. Burke! Good friend of mine!”
“Sorry
I can’t help you. You’d best get yourself some vitamin shots and some sun
lamps. You look terrible, Mr.—?”
“Lantry.
I’ll be good. Thanks ever so much. See you next Hallows’ Eve!”
“Aren’t
you the clever one.” She laughed. “If there were a Hallows’ Eve, I’d make it a date.”
“But
they burned that , too,” he said.
“Oh,
they burned everything,” she said. “Good night.”
“Good
night.” And he went on out.
Oh,
how carefully he was balanced in this world! Like some kind of dark gyroscope,
whirling with never a murmur, a very silent man. As he walked along the eight
o’clock evening street he noticed with particular interest that there was not
an unusual amount of lights about. There were the usual street lights at each
corner, but the blocks themselves were only faintly illuminated. Could it be
that these remarkable people were not afraid
of the dark? Incredible nonsense! Every
one was afraid of the dark. Even he himself had been afraid, as a child. It was as natural as eating.
A
little boy ran by on pelting feet, followed by six others. They yelled and
shouted and rolled on the dark cool October lawn, in the leaves. Lantry looked
on for several minutes before addressing himself to one of the small boys who
was for a moment taking a respite, gathering his breath into his small lungs,
as a boy might blow to refill a punctured paper bag.
“Here,
now,” said Lantry. “You’ll wear yourself out.”
“Sure,”
said the boy.
“Could
you tell me,” said the man, “why there are no street lights in the middle of
the blocks?”
“Why?”
asked the boy.
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