Professor. But then I’m curious about a lot of things and life’s too short to investigate them all.” He changed the subject. “Olson himself. Was he fairly healthy? Or was there something wrong that you know about? Something that might not show up in a routine physical?”
“So far as I know he was healthy. He never missed a class and he never seemed to suffer from chronic headaches or colds. Why?”
Crawford stood up, toying with his hat. “Well, I guess that’s the way it goes then. I’ve seen it happen before to a young fellow so I shouldn’t be too surprised.”
Tanner could feel his skin start to crawl. “Surprised at what?”
“Olson wasn’t killed and he didn’t commit suicide, Professor. I hate to disappoint you but he came home at midnight Saturday night, read a while, and at three o’clock Sunday morning he sat down at his desk and died.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. No pain or strain. He just died.”
Just like that, he thought, after Crawford had gone. A young, relatively healthy man had sat down at his desk and died. With no cause.
He shivered. It would be so damned easy to get the shakes and end up in a blue funk, just knowing what was after him. Not who . Not a person, not somebody he could fight, not somebody he could flush out into the open.
Not who, but what.
And just what was wanted of him? To drop off the committee? Or had he already gone past the point of no return, did he already know too much? And if so, why hadn’t there been another attempt to kill him? It wouldn’t be difficult. Sunday morning he had almost walked off the end of the pier. Perhaps some day he would step out in front of an automobile or lean too far out of an open window. And everybody would say that Professor Tanner had been careless. Or that the world had been too much for him.
And why me? Why me rather than anybody else on the committee? What do I know that’s so special? Or is it that he just hasn’t gotten around to the others yet?
He started sifting through the pile of mail on his desk. It was the same stack of mail that had been there Wednesday morning. The same stack that had been there Tuesday and Monday. Nobody had sent him anything since Monday. No firm in the city had dropped him a circular, nobody had sent any bills.
He flicked through the sheaf of letters waiting to be filed and stopped at one. A colored circular from Colorado advertising the natural wonders of that state.
Only he wasn’t going there. And one of the minor reasons why was that Crawford had said the school had dropped him. Why, he didn’t know. Professor Scott wouldn’t have had anything to do with it. He had had run-ins with Scott, but the old man had always backed him up outside of the department. His trouble must have started with the dean of the school, Harry Connell.
He looked at his watch. Harry would be in now. And maybe Harry would have an explanation.
Connell’s secretary didn’t want to let him by.
“I’m sorry, Bill. Mr. Connell’s very busy right now. Why don’t you stop back later?”
“Do you think he would be in later?”
She bit her lip. “Honest, Bill, I don’t know what to say. He said you might drop by to see him and to tell you that he was busy.”
“And that he was going to be busy the rest of the week, that it?”
She shrugged. “Of course, if you didn’t pay any attention to me and walked right in … I can always say I tried.”
He brushed past her. “Thanks.”
The man in the office was on the phone, talking. He hung up when Tanner barged in, an angry look on his fleshy face.
“I thought I told my secretary to tell you I was busy?”
“She did but I guess I’m getting a pretty thick skin.” He lowered his voice. “What’s going on, Harry? Why didn’t you let me know if something was up?”
Connell’s face reddened. “I ought to call the police. I ought to have you thrown out of here but I’m trying to keep it quiet. The publicity wouldn’t do the
“So far as I know he was healthy. He never missed a class and he never seemed to suffer from chronic headaches or colds. Why?”
Crawford stood up, toying with his hat. “Well, I guess that’s the way it goes then. I’ve seen it happen before to a young fellow so I shouldn’t be too surprised.”
Tanner could feel his skin start to crawl. “Surprised at what?”
“Olson wasn’t killed and he didn’t commit suicide, Professor. I hate to disappoint you but he came home at midnight Saturday night, read a while, and at three o’clock Sunday morning he sat down at his desk and died.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. No pain or strain. He just died.”
Just like that, he thought, after Crawford had gone. A young, relatively healthy man had sat down at his desk and died. With no cause.
He shivered. It would be so damned easy to get the shakes and end up in a blue funk, just knowing what was after him. Not who . Not a person, not somebody he could fight, not somebody he could flush out into the open.
Not who, but what.
And just what was wanted of him? To drop off the committee? Or had he already gone past the point of no return, did he already know too much? And if so, why hadn’t there been another attempt to kill him? It wouldn’t be difficult. Sunday morning he had almost walked off the end of the pier. Perhaps some day he would step out in front of an automobile or lean too far out of an open window. And everybody would say that Professor Tanner had been careless. Or that the world had been too much for him.
And why me? Why me rather than anybody else on the committee? What do I know that’s so special? Or is it that he just hasn’t gotten around to the others yet?
He started sifting through the pile of mail on his desk. It was the same stack of mail that had been there Wednesday morning. The same stack that had been there Tuesday and Monday. Nobody had sent him anything since Monday. No firm in the city had dropped him a circular, nobody had sent any bills.
He flicked through the sheaf of letters waiting to be filed and stopped at one. A colored circular from Colorado advertising the natural wonders of that state.
Only he wasn’t going there. And one of the minor reasons why was that Crawford had said the school had dropped him. Why, he didn’t know. Professor Scott wouldn’t have had anything to do with it. He had had run-ins with Scott, but the old man had always backed him up outside of the department. His trouble must have started with the dean of the school, Harry Connell.
He looked at his watch. Harry would be in now. And maybe Harry would have an explanation.
Connell’s secretary didn’t want to let him by.
“I’m sorry, Bill. Mr. Connell’s very busy right now. Why don’t you stop back later?”
“Do you think he would be in later?”
She bit her lip. “Honest, Bill, I don’t know what to say. He said you might drop by to see him and to tell you that he was busy.”
“And that he was going to be busy the rest of the week, that it?”
She shrugged. “Of course, if you didn’t pay any attention to me and walked right in … I can always say I tried.”
He brushed past her. “Thanks.”
The man in the office was on the phone, talking. He hung up when Tanner barged in, an angry look on his fleshy face.
“I thought I told my secretary to tell you I was busy?”
“She did but I guess I’m getting a pretty thick skin.” He lowered his voice. “What’s going on, Harry? Why didn’t you let me know if something was up?”
Connell’s face reddened. “I ought to call the police. I ought to have you thrown out of here but I’m trying to keep it quiet. The publicity wouldn’t do the
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