The Cosmic Puppets Read Online Free PDF Page B

A possible friend? “Doctor,” Barton said slowly, “that boy who died was related to me. But I don't know how.” He rubbed his forehead wearily. “I don't understand it. I've got to find out what I am to that boy.”
    “Why?”
    “I can't tell you that.”
    The doctor got out a silver toothpick from a little engraved box and began thoughtfully to pick at his molars. “Did you go down to the newspaper office? Nat Tate'll give you some help. Old records, pictures, newspapers. And at the police station you can go over a lot of city records. Taxes and duns and assessments and fines. Of course, if you're trying to trace a family relationship, the best thing is the county courthouse.”
    “What I want is here in Millgate. Not at the county courthouse.” After a moment Barton added, “It has to do with the whole town. Not just Ted Barton. I have to know about all of this.” He moved his hand in a tired circle. “It's all involved, somehow. Tied in with Ted Barton. The other Ted Barton, I mean.”
    Doctor Meade considered. Abruptly he put his silver toothpick away and got to his feet. “Come on out on the porch. You haven't met Miss James, have you?”
    Something plucked at Barton. His weariness fled and he glanced quickly up. “I know that name. I've heard it before.”
    Doctor Meade was watching him oddly. “Probably,” he agreed. “She was sitting across from us during dinner.” He held the porch door open. “She's the librarian over at the Free Library. She knows all about Millgate.”
    The porch was dark. It took a couple of minutes for Barton to get adjusted. Several shapes were sitting around on old-fashioned chairs and a long sagging couch. Smoking, dozing, enjoying the evening coolness. The porch was protected by wire screens; no insects had got in to immolate themselves on the single electric bulb glowing faintly in the corner.
    “Miss James,” Doctor Meade said, “this is Ted Barton. Maybe you can help him. He has a few problems.”
    Miss James smiled up at Barton through her thick, rimless glasses. “I'm glad to meet you,” she said in a soft voice. “You're new around here, aren't you?”
    Barton seated himself on the arm of the couch. “I'm from New York,” he answered.
    “You're the first person through here in years,” Doctor Meade observed. He blew a vast cloud of cigar smoke around the dark porch. The red glow of his cigar lit up the gloom. “The road's practically ready to fall apart. Nobody comes this way. We see the same old faces month after month. But we have our work. I have the hospital. I like to learn new things, experiment, work with my patients. I have about ten fairly dependent people up there. Once in a while we get in a few of the town wives to help. Right now it's pretty quiet.”
    “Do you know anything about a—barrier?” Barton asked Miss James abruptly.
    “A barrier?” Doctor Meade demanded. “What kind of a barrier?”
    “You've never heard of it?”
    Doctor Meade shook his head slowly. “No, not that I can think of.”
    “I, neither,” Miss James echoed. “In what connection?”
    No one else was listening. The others were dozing and murmuring together at the far end of the porch. Mrs Trilling, the other boarders, Peter, Doctor Meade's daughter Mary, some neighbors. “What do you know about the Trilling boy?” Barton asked.
    Meade grunted. “Seems to be healthy enough.”
    “Have you ever examined him?”
    “Of course,” Meade answered, annoyed. “I've examined everybody in this town. He has a high IQ; seems to be alert. Plays a lot by himself.” He added, “Frankly, I never liked precocious children.”
    “But he's not interested in books,” Miss James protested. “He never comes to the library.”
    Barton was silent for a time. Then he asked, “What would it mean if somebody said, ‘The one on the far side. The one with his hands out.' Does that mean anything to you?”
    Miss James and Doctor Meade were baffled. “Sounds like a game,”