The Physiognomy Read Online Free PDF

hear that?” he asked.
    â€œWhat?” I said.
    â€œOut there, in the bushes,” he said.
    â€œThe demons?” I asked.
    He pointed at me and started to laugh. “There, I had you,” he said. “You have to admit it.”
    I punched him as hard as I could in the left eye, chafing my knuckles. While he leaned over, swimming through the pain, I told him I would leave my topcoat in his library and that he should have it cleaned for me by the time the party was over. Then I left and returned to the purgatory beneath me.
    The mayor’s wife handed me a chived cremat as I ordered her to set up folding chairs for the guests. “Right away,” she said, and was already overseeing the operation when I turned to look. The aroma of the hors d’oeuvre was penetrating, and instinctively I tossed it off the plate I held. It rolled onto the carpet. For some time I was taken with watching the unwitting guests come within a hairsbreadth of stepping on it—a metaphor for their search for meaning. Finally, a woman ran it through with a slender high heel and carried it off into the crowd.
    â€œWe are ready for you,” said the mayor’s wife, awakening me from my reverie.
    I had a method I employed when speaking to large groups of the dim, a way of making them focus on my message. I began by doing some quick readings of faces in the crowd and making predictions. No one could resist its appeal. “You, over there,” I said, pointing as I strode back and forth in front of the assembled guests, “you will live in poverty for your entire life. You, the woman with the flowers in her hat, should you really be cheating on your husband? Dead within the year. A child on the way. Worthless as the day is long. A mockery of nature. I see a marriage to a man who will beat you.” I bowed to thundering applause.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen of Anamasobia,” I began as silence returned, “just as Mr. Beaton was transformed from flesh to spire rock this afternoon, you too have been changed. You are no longer citizens; you are no longer mothers or fathers, sisters, brothers, et cetera. You are now suspects in my case. Until I leave, that is all you are. I will be calculating each of your physiognomical designs in order to flush out a criminal. Most of you, I should think, are aware of my credentials. You will disrobe for me. I am a man of science. I probe gently with an educated touch. If I am forced to delve into the topography of your private areas, I will do so wearing a leather glove. My instruments are so sharp that even if they do happen to nick you, you will not discover the cut for hours. Remember, move swiftly. Pose for me in utter silence. Don’t ask me to tell you my assessment. I guarantee, you won’t want to know it.”
    My oration was smooth and cleanly, and I could see that the women, though failing to understand, were taken by my innate command of the human language. The men nodded and scratched their heads. They knew enough to know I was their superior. It was a job well done. I moved through the crowd so they could get a better look at me. The beating I had given the mayor gave me newfound energy and I conversed roundly. They asked me what books they should read, how to raise their children, the best way to make money, how many times a day did I bathe. I told them everything.
    Someone had lowered the lights to a faint glow, and I had had a glass or two of absence, when from out of the crowd stepped a physiognomy that my eyes slid over without a scratch. She walked up to me and said, “May I ask you a question about Greta Sykes?” Stunned by her beauty, I nodded, not realizing what she was asking. “How could you have been sure that she was the werewolf simply by an insufficient nostril-to-forehead measurement when the elegance of her jawline canceled out all upper facial anomalies?”
    I stared at her features for a minute, then stared away for