The victim Read Online Free PDF Page B

say to you, I've got plenty to say. But you know that." "That's news to me, too." Allbee grinned at him with an intimation of a shared secret that aroused and vexed Leventhal, and sickened him. "Let's sit down," Allbee proposed. "Damn him, he's got me, he's got hold of me," Leventhal thought. "He's become some kind of a crank. I shouldn't have gone out. I should have tried to sleep, after the day I've had." They found a place on a bench. "I haven't got much time. I get up early. What do you want?" Allbee regarded him. "You've become stouter," he said. "Darker, too. How much do you weigh?" "About two hundred and ten." "That's too much. It's bad for your heart to carry so much weight. Don't you feel it in this weather? I'll bet your heart takes a beating from it. You have a lot of stairs to climb." "How do you know that?" "Oh, I happen to know that you live on the fourth floor." "How do you know?" Leventhal insisted. "I just happen to. Is it some kind of a secret? Isn't anybody allowed to know that you live on the fourth floor?" "What else do you know about me?" "You work for the Burke-Beard people. You put out one of their sheets." "Any more?" "Your wife is away. She is..." he glanced over as though to see if he was entirely right, "down South. Went a few days ago. These things aren't hard to find out." "Did you ring my bell before?" "Did I ring it? No, why should I?" Leventhal grimly looked at him in the light that came through the leaves. He had been spying on him, and the mystery was why! How long had he been keeping watch on him and for what reason--what grotesque reason? Allbee returned his look, examining him as he was examined, in concentration and seriousness, his lower jaw slipped to one side, his glum, contemplative eyes filled with a green and leaden color. And in the loom of these eyes and with the warmth of the man's breath on his face, for they were crowded together on the bench, Leventhal suddenly felt that he had been singled out to be the object of some freakish, insane process, and for an instant he was filled with dread. Then he recovered and told himself there was nothing to be afraid of. The man was a crank and irritating, and certainly it was creepy to think of being observed secretly. But there was nothing so alarming about this Allbee. He had become a bum and a drunk and he seemed to have an idea or a twist about him, a delusion; perhaps it was even invented. How could you tell about these drunks? There must be reasons, but they were beyond anybody's ability to find out--smoky, cloudy, alcoholic. Allbee had taken him by surprise. It was surprising. And in his present state of mind he was, moreover, easily carried away by things. He felt unwell, and that didn't help. He gave a steadying, wary pull to his shoulders. Still looking at him, Allbee said, "It's hard to know what kind of a man you are, personally." "Oh, it's me you want to talk about?" "Now, you see? There's an example. You're outspoken, but are you leading away from the main thing? You are. It's a maneuver. I don't know whether you're smart or crude. Maybe you don't even care much about the main thing." "What don't I care about?" "Ah, come on, drop it, Leventhal, drop it! You know what it is." "I don't." There was a pause; then Allbee said with an effort at patience, " Well, if that's the way it's got to be--I guess you want me to go over the whole business. I thought it wouldn't be necessary, but all right. Dill's Weekly. You remember Dill's Weekly? Mr Rudiger?1 "Of course I do. Sure. Rudiger. I have it written down in an old appointment book I've been hoping to run across; his name keeps getting away from me. Oh, Rudiger," he said reminiscently and began to smile, but with a line of constraint about his mouth. "So you do remember?" "Naturally." "Now what about the rest of it? No, you won't go on to the rest of it. You'll make me do it. Okay, I will. It was through Rudiger that you got at me." "Got at you?" said Leventhal, astonished. He