The demolished man Read Online Free PDF Page B

3rd. Be fair."
    "She gives me a pain."
    "Do you think it's decent... marrying a girl when you feel that way about her?"
    "Don't be a romantic ass, Powell. We've got to marry peepers. I might as well
    settle for a pretty face."
    The Rebus game was going on in the living room. The Noyes girl was busy building
    a camouflaged image with an old poem:
     
    The                                        vast,
    sea                                        and
    is                  out                     Glimmering
    calm            in        the                stand,
    tonight,       tranquil      bay             England
    The        Come       to     the window       of
    tide         sweet      is    the night       cliffs
    is             air.           Only           the
    full             from        the             gone;
    the                long    line               is
    moon                 of spray               and
    lies                                       Gleams
    fair                                       light
    Upon the straights;---on the French coast the
     
    What the devil was that? An eye in a glass? Eh? Oh. Not a glass. A stein. Eye in
    a stein. Einstein. Easy.
    "What d'you think of Powell for the job, Ellery?" That was Chervil with his
    phoney smile and his big fat pontifical belly.
    "For Guild President?"
    "Yes."
    "Damned efficient man. Romantic but efficient. The perfect candidate if only
    he'd get married."
    "That's the romance in him. He's having trouble locating a girl."
    "Don't all you deep peepers? Thank God I'm not a 1st."
    And then a smash of glass crashing in the kitchen and Preacher Powell again,
    lecturing that little snot, Gus Tate.
    "Never mind the glass, Gus. I had to drop it to cover for you. You're radiating
    anxiety like a nova."
    "The devil I am, Powell."
    "The devil you're not. What's all this about Ben Reich?"
    The little man was really on guard. You could feel his mental shell hardening.
    "Ben Reich? What brought him up?"
    "You did, Gus. It's been moiling in your mind all evening. I couldn't help
    reading it."
    "Not me, Powell. You must be tuning another TP."
    Image of a horse laughing.
    "Powell, I swear I'm not---"
    "Are you mixed up with Reich, Gus?"
    "No." But you could feel the blocks bang down into place.
    "Take a hint from an old hand, Gus. Reich can get you into trouble. Be careful.
    Remember Jerry Church? Reich ruined him. Don't let it happen to you."
    Tate drifted back to the living room; Powell remained in the kitchen, calm and
    slow-moving, sweeping up broken glass. Church lay frozen against the back door,
    suppressing the seething hatred in his heart. The Chervil boy was showing off
    for the lawyer's girl, singing a love ballad and paralleling it with a visual
    parody. College stuff. The wives were arguing violently in sine curves, @kins
    and West were interlacing cross-conversation in a fascinatingly intricate
    pattern of sensory images that made Church's starvation keener.
    "Would you like a drink, Jerry?"
    The garden door opened. Powell stood silhouetted in the light, a bubbling glass
    in his hand. The stars lit his face softly. The deep hooded eyes were
    compassionate and understanding. Dazed, Church climbed to his feet and timidly
    took the proffered drink.
    "Don't report this to the Guild, Jerry. I'll catch hell for breaking the taboo.
    I'm always breaking rules. Poor Jerry... We've got to do something for you. Ten
    years is too long."
    Suddenly Church hurled the drink in Powell's face, then turned and fled.
     
     
     
    3
    At nine Monday morning, Tate's mannequin face appeared on the screen of