A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 81: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

_—_ < — CREEP, SHADOW! ~——— ae —_—_ — EE ————e——— OS a OS en eee _. that the Lord of Caranac had on his mind, _ this combination of archaic servility and modern convenience made me laugh. But no smile answered me. The man stood, head bent, wound up to do and say cer- tain things. Smiling had not been in his instructions. I looked at his impassive face, the blank eyes which were not seeing me at all as I was, nor the world in which I lived, but were seeing me as another man in another world. What that world might be, I suspected. I threw a robe over my pajamas and locked the bedroom door against him; unstrapped McCann’s holster and hid it before bathing. When I came out I dis- missed him. He told me that breakfast would be ready a little after nine, and bowing low, departed quickly without an- other word. I went to the armoire, took out my gun and snapped it open. The cartridges were in place. Furthermore, the extra clips lay orderly beside where it had been. Had I also dreamed that it had been emptied? A sudden suspicion came to me, If I were wrong, I could explain it as an accident. I carried the gun to the window, aimed it at the sea touched the trig- ger. There was only a sharp crack as the cap exploded. In the night the cartridges had been made useless and without doubt, restored to the pistol during my later sleep. Well, here was warning enough, I thought grimly, without any buzzing blue- bottle and put the gun back. Then I went down to breakfast, cold with anger and disposed to be brutal if I had the chance. The Demoiselle was waiting for me, pro- saically reading a newspaper. The table was laid for two, so I judged her father had business elsewhere. I looked at Dahut, and as always admiration and a certain tenderness reluctantly joined my wrath and my rooted hatred of her. I think I have mentioned her beauty before. She was never more lovely than now—a dewy freshness about her, like the dawn; her skin a miracle; clear-eyed, just the _ tight touch of demureness . . . not at all _ the murderess and witch I knew her in oe She dropped the paper and held out her ied ae I kissed it, ironically. She said: “I do hope you slept sound- ly, Alan.” And that had. just the right touch of domesticity, It irritated me still more. I ss 7 | | dropped into my chair, spread my napkin | over my knees. ‘“Soundly, Dahut, except for a big blue-bottle fly that came and» whispered to me.” Her eyes narrowed at that, and distinct- ly I saw her tremble. Then she dropped = eyes, and laughed: “You're joking, an 33 I said: “I am not. It was a big blue- bottle that buzzed and whispered and buzzed and whispered.” She asked, quietly: “What did it whis- per, Alan?” “To beware of you, Dahut.” She asked, again quietly: “Were you awake ?”’ Now, regaining caution, I laughed: “Do blue-bottle flies whisper to people who are awake? I was sound asleep and dreaming—without doubt.” “Did you know the voice?” Her eyes lifted suddenly and held mine. I answered: “When I heard it I seemed to know it. But now, awake, I have forgotten.” She was silent while the blank-eyed servant placed this and that before us. Then she said, half-wearily: “Put away your sword, Alan. For today, at least, you do not need it. And today, at least, I carry no weapon, I pledge you this, and you can trust or today. Treat me today only as—one who loves you greatly. Will you do this, Alan?” It was said so simply, so sincerely, that my anger fled and my distrust of her weakened. For the first time I felt a stirring of pity. She said: “TI will not even ask you to pretend to love me.” I said, slowly: “It would not be hard to love you, Dahut.” The violet of her eyes were misted with tears. She said: “I—-wonder—” I said: “A bargain. We meet for the first time this morning. I know nothing of you, Dahut, and today you will be to me only—what you seem to be. Perhaps by tonight I will be your—slave.” She said, sharply: “I asked you to put down your sword,” Eomiic book (E(0) y : ’ feet) - 7 ; a4 ar , i