A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, April 1950 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

THE NINTH LIFE - | 13 “No,” Tott remarked in the pause. “But I must get along.” After closing the outer door, Gees went into his secretary’s room, seated himself on the end of her desk, and produced the inevitable cigarette case. He said, “If Tott were a fool he wouldn’t be where he is.” The girl waited. “And yet,” he went on, “it’s apparent- ly possible for Tott, even, to acquire a wacky notion. About Briggs. Foreign Office. He’s just got engaged. The girl it seems, exotic, slinky, and hails from Egypt. Also appears possessed of a healthy wad of dough. And Tott wants - me to break the engagement since he can’t do anything about it himself.” “But that’s absurd,” she said. “Quite. Now I suggest we lunch at the Berkeley, Miss Brandon. I'll fix it for Tony to bring Cleo Kefra along. A woman’s view of another woman is al- ways worth having.” “So is a lunch at the Berkeley,” she remarked. “But what name was that you called her ?”’ “Exactly, Miss Brandon—it hit me just like that. Cleo Kefra—something to do with the great pyramid, by the sound of it. Not an alias, either—she’ d have chosen something less conspicuous.’ Tony Briggs, over the phone, said he’d be delighted to bring his fiancée to lunch on Wednesday. No, he had not seen Tott recently—not for over a fortnight, in fact. “And when is the wedding?” Gees in- quired. “Oh, we haven’t got-as far as that yet,” Tony protested. “Just as well. I’d better pass judgment first.” “Oho!” And Tony laughed. “I’ve no fear of anybody’s judgment.”’ “Probably another Tony said _ that about another Cleopatra, old son,” Gees observed. He hung up, and went along to Miss Brandon’s room again. She looked up from her typing at him. “It just occurred to me that history is doing another of its repetitions,” he said. “History—?”’ “Anthony Br ig gs—and . apparently Cleopatra Kefra,” he explained. “T thought of that some time ago,” she said. “Weil, the other one threw the world away, but I expect chucking the Foreign Office will be this one’s limit.” “Sacred mackerel!” Gees ejaculated, as he entered the Berkeley lounge on Wednesday with Miss Brandon. “The old man’s getting gay.”’ The white-haired, soldierly-looking man, seated with another of his kind over two dry sherries, got on his feet and came toward them. There was enough facial likeness to declare the relationship between him and Gees—though his father was better locking and had neatly propor-. tioned hands and feet, while Gees had large hands and very large feet. “How d’you do, Miss Brandon?” he said courteously. “How are you, Gordon? Lunching here?” “Meeting Tony Briggs and the girl he’s going to marry, Father,’’ Gees explained. “You know Tony, of course. Would you and—and that friend of yours care to join our party?” General Sir George Green shook his head. “Thank you,-Gordon, but—” He broke off to stare toward the en- trance, where Briggs and a tall, very slim girl were poised. ‘‘Gordon,” he said, hur- riedly, “I met that girl, exactly as she is now, when I was on my honeymoon in Egypt. A Miss Kefra.” “Mother to this one—no, though—it’s the same name,” Gees said. “An aunt— father’s sister, probably. You'll be in- troduced ?” | “Not now. No, I must get back to Farebrother.” With a slight bow he turned away— turned his back almost pointedly on Tony Briggs and his companion. ' Past ques- tion the girl’s appearance had disconcerted him. HE was wearing a coat of undyed black panther fur, the five- -group mark- ings showing distinctly ; in its satiny gloss, and under it a closely fitted frock of shining gray, with a moonstone set in platinum pinned at her breast. Except for her fiancé’s ring, she wore no other jewelry. A little black hat fitted closely to the red-brown of her hair, and under it her unusually pale face was perfect in feature. Her eyes were aes flecked with cEomichooks.com