I WOKE the next morning to see the sun streaming through the grass blinds. I could hear the sing-song chatter of the Mexican waiters preparing breakfast in the patio below. I glanced at my wrist-watch. It was 6.40.
Not much use going to sleep again, so I reached for my cigarette case. Then I propped myself up in the hard little bed and brooded.
Once I got to thinking, I realized just how much there was to think about. It was terrific. In twenty-four hours the whole set-up had so completely changed that I was up the creek without a paddle. When planning a newspaper campaign, a modern newspaperman can’t take miracles into consideration. But, on the face of it, that was what I had to do. The kidnapped blonde story was as dead as a mummy. The blonde who could work miracles was front-page news. But how would Maddox react? I thought gloomily that he’d can me before I could give him a demonstration. On the other hand, of course, I might be able to persuade Myra to give him a little scare and get my job back.
What about Myra anyway? I couldn’t imagine either Ansell or myself persuading her against her will. It’d, take all my time, anyway, to keep on the right side of her. It wasn’t as if she were a soft cookie. She’d always been difficult and now with powers such as she possessed, she was going to be a definite menace.
I came out in a cold sweat when I thought of Pablo. His was a story that could never be written. There was no proof and no one would believe it. If I even hinted to Maddox what had happened he would have sent me to the booby-hatch. I wouldn’t blame him at that. So the Pablo episode had to be forgotten.
The next point was to find another approach to the kidnapping angle. How to make Maddox and Myra happy at the same time. Not easy. The 25,000-dollars reward complicated matters. I regretfully decided that I wasn’t going to see much of that. Knowing Myra, I was pretty certain that she’d grab all of it. I couldn’t see myself arguing about it either. What was 25,000 dollars if I were turned into a hamburger or a breast of chicken?
I ran my fingers through my hair. This was driving me screwy. I played with the idea of getting up, packing quietly and sneaking off to Mexico City. I’d lose my job, but at least, I’d be clear of the whole thing. The thought tempted me.
Then there was a light tap on my door and Myra came in. She was in flame-coloured pyjamas and a scarlet dressing gown. And as she stood in the diffused light, with the little bolts of sunlight in her hair, I thought she was the loveliest thing I’d seen for a long time.
She closed the door gently and leaned against it.
We looked at each other as if we had met for the first time and I was conscious of a new feeling for her. Up to now, she had been a subject to write about. But, seeing her there, her big eyes serious, the sun in her hair, the way she held her head, well, I guess she sent a tingle through my veins. At that moment, she came alive and looking back, now that it is all over, I guess that this was the time I really fell for her in a big way.
“I’m scared,” she said. “Something’s happened to me.”
I sat up on my elbow. “Come here,” I said. “What’s happened to you?” I didn’t like the bewildered look in her eyes and she seemed to have lost a lot of her confidence.
“I don’t know what it is,” she said, sitting on the end of the bed. “I feel—oh, I guess you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I won’t,” I said, reaching for the cigarettes and offering her one.
We didn’t say anything for a while. Smoke haze drifted in the sunbeams and the Mexican waiters chattered outside. Then she said: “It wasn’t a dream last night, was it?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I hoped it was,” she went on, tapping ashes on the floor. “I wish it all was a dream. It’s frightening.”
“I can’t tell you there’s nothing to be scared about,” I said, “All I can say is I’m sorry we got you into this mess.”
“I’ve been trying to remember what happened,” she said. “I’m putting it together, but it still doesn’t make sense. I can remember the old Indian more clearly. I can remember sitting in that little hut with him. We didn’t speak. We read each other’s minds. That was frightening. I couldn’t lie to him, you see. Not talking like that. I just had to keep my mind blank when I felt he was finding out too much about me. I still don’t know how far I succeeded. We talked with our minds for a long time. He told me a lot of things. I know that, but I can’t remember what they were. He gave me some horrible stuff to drink and after I’d got it down I remember seeing some black smoke coming from the corner of the hut. It was quite terrifying. There was no fire or anything, just the black smoke building up into a shadow. I thought at the time it looked like the shadow of a woman, but it was dark in the hut and I couldn’t be sure. But all he time we talked, the shadow was there, hovering close to me.”
I lit another cigarette. I felt there wasn’t much I could say, so I just lay there and listened.
“The shadow was behind Pablo, just before it happened,” she shuddered. “I’m scared even to think of anything now, in case something happens.”
“Snap out of it, kid,” I said reaching out and pulling her to me. I put ray arm round her and she stretched out with her head on my shoulder. I liked the smell of her hair and the feel of it against my face.
“But there’s something else,” she said in a small voice. I wondered what was coming. “Tell me,” I said.
“I don’t think you’ll understand,” she returned speaking reluctantly. “I don’t understand it myself. But, last night, when I got into bed, something happened to me. I thought I saw a shadowy figure get up from my bed and go out of the room. It—seemed to come from me. It—it looked like me, and when it had gone I felt different.”
“You were dreaming,” I said, patting her arm. “You’ve been through enough to have series of nightmares.”
“But, I feel different,” she repeated. “Oh, Ross, what is happening to me?”
“But, how different?” I turned so that I could look into her troubled eyes. “Don’t get in a panic, kid. What do you mean… different?”
“Oh, lighter, happier—as if I’d been through a mental bath and become clean. Oh, I don’t know how to tell you.”
“Well, if you feel happier, why worry?” I said, and kissed her.
She drew away quickly. “If you’re not going to concentrate, I’ll have to leave you,” she said severely.
“But, I am concentrating,” I said, with my mouth against her hair.
She pulled away, “No, you mustn’t,” she said. “I wish all this hadn’t happened.”
“You wait until you get that reward,” I said. “You’ll think differently then.”
“But, I don’t want it,” she returned emphatically. “That’s another thing I can’t understand. Yesterday, I was furious with you, but now—well, I just don’t want it. I can get along without it and besides, it’s not really honest.”
This shocked me. Something had happened to her.
“Not honest?” I repeated stupidly. “What’s the idea?”
“You know as well as I do,” she said impatiently, “I wasn’t rescued and you have no right to try to claim the reward.”
“This is too much for me,” I said, lying back. “Coming from you, that’s rich!”
Just then Bogle opened the verandah door and stuck his head round. “Don’t mind me, if you’re busy,” he said, leering at Myra. “I’m scared of my own company, this morning.”
“Come in, Sam,” I said wearily. “If you’ve any friends, bring ’em in too. I always work best when I’ve a room full of people.”
“There ain’t no one but me and Whisky,” Bogle said, coming in. He was followed by the wolfhound “Whisky’s taken a liking to me.”
Myra and I looked at the wolfhound uneasily. The dog clicked its teeth in an absent-minded kind of way and lay down near the bed. It eyed us with sleepy insolence and then stretched out with its head on Bogle’s boot.
“Whisky?” I repeated. “Is that its name?”
“That’s what I call him,” Bogle said. “He seems to like it and it’s the sort of name I wouldn’t easily forget. Nice dawg, ain’t he?”
“I don’t know,” I said, with some feeling. “Perhaps he is. I can’t forget that he ate Pablo. That rather preys on my mind.”
Bogle sneered, “Ate Pablo?” he said. “You’re nuts! He ate a sausage. You and Doc ought to have your ears blown out!”
I considered this. I thought if that was the only thing necessary how absurdly simple everything would be.
“Never mind, Sam,” I said. “You aren’t the only one who won’t believe it.”
While I was speaking, Whisky turned over on his back and folded his legs across his chest like a crab. His tail straightened and he closed his eyes.
Myra said quietly, “I don’t like that dog’s attitude. It’s unhealthy.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I returned, pulling the bedclothes a little higher. “But, it’s disturbing, if that’s what you mean.”
Bogle unfolded Whisky’s legs gently and turned him on his side. “Relax, fella,” he said.
“You can’t rest that way.”
Whisky opened one eye and looked at Bogle. Then he turned on his back and folded his legs over his chest again.
“Gawdamn it,” Bogle said. “Did you ever see such a dawg?” and he bustled forward to unfold Whisky’s legs again.
I suppose Whisky decided not to tolerate this interference. Opening one eye sharply, he regarded Bogle’s hands with a sour look and then thrusting his nose forward he clicked his teeth with a snap like a mouse-trap.
I guess Bogle thought he’d lost his hand. He didn’t dare look, but sat on the floor, breathing heavily until I had assured him that Whisky had missed him by an eighth of an inch. Then he removed himself to the far end of the room, where he sat in a chair and scowled at the dog.
“Listen,” I said. “Don’t think I’m unsociable. I’m not. I’ve always been sociable. I’m the guy they laughed at when I sat down at the piano. But, right now, my nerves are on edge and I’d like you and Whisky to take a little walk. I don’t want you to go far. I’d even stand for seeing you at a distance, but I can’t stand much more of your heavy breathing and the dog’s affected attitude. So, would you drift… the pair of you?”
“Every time you open your trap, you write a book,” Bogle said. “I’m waiting for Ansell. He’s coming to have a talk. Besides, I’ve ordered breakfast to be sent up. You’ve got the best room, ain’t you?”
“Well, Precious, you see how it is,” I said to Myra. “We’ll have to postpone our little talk. I just can’t keep my mind on anything so long as Whisky’s with us.”
Myra got off the bed and stretched. “I don’t think we would have got anywhere,” she said, a little wearily. “I’m afraid talking won’t help me.”
“Did you say you’d ordered breakfast?” I asked Bogle.
“Yeah,” Bogle’s face lit up. “Eggs and fruit and cawfee. I didn’t get much to eat last night. There was so much talking and shouting and people going off into faints.”
“You wouldn’t like to cover up Whisky, would you?” I said. “He really is getting on my nerves.”
“Maybe he ain’t well,” Bogle said, looking at the dog with puzzled eyes.”
“With Pablo inside him, I don’t wonder at it.”
Whisky rolled over on his side and looked at me. There was something strangely human about the expression in his eyes. “How right you are, old dog,” he said in a deep, guttural voice. “He lies like a rock on my stomach.”
“There you are,” I said to Sam. “I knew he couldn’t be well.” Then I clutched my pillow and looked at the dog in horror.
Myra stifled a scream and stood petrified, but Bogle didn’t seem to be moved.
“You know it sounded almost as if that dog spoke,” I said a little feverishly.
“Sure,” Sam returned. “What of it? He’s been talking to me half the night.”
“What of it?” I repeated, stupefied. “Have you ever heard a dog talk before?”
“Well, no, but then anything can happen in this country, can’t it? What I mean is if a parrot talks, why not a Mexican dog? “That’s the way I’ve been reasoning.” He suddenly noticed my strained expression and fear came into his eyes. “It ain’t possible? Dawgs don’t talk? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? This is another of these freak things… floating women… disappearing men… now talking dawgs?”
“Yeah, along those lines.”
“My Gawd! And I talked to it half the night!” Bogle shivered edging back in his chair and half raising his hand to protect himself.
“And a lot of rot you talked too,” the dog snapped. “Of all the illiterate, prissy-mouthed, dyed-in-the-wool nincompoops I’ve had to listen to, you take the biscuit.”
Myra said in a low voice, “I think I’ll go now. Somehow, I don’t feel like breakfast.”
“For goodness sake stay where you are,” Whisky said peevishly “There’s so much yapping in this hotel, I’m leading a dog’s life.”
“It wouldn’t be someone practising ventriloquism, I suppose?” I asked hopefully, feeling that any second I’d have to run out into the desert and keep running for some time. “Someone wouldn’t be trying to make fools of us?”
Whisky yawned. He had the most astonishing collection of fangs I’d ever seen. “To improve on your mothers’ efforts would be a difficult task,” he observed. “Just because I happen to talk your horrible language, there’s no need for you to behave like dolts.”
“Look, old fellow,” I said nervously. “Would you mind going away? It’s not that I don’t like you, but I’ve had all I can stand for one morning. Come back later on, will you? Maybe I’ll be adjusted to the idea by then.”
Whisky shook himself. “As a matter of fact I have something rather important to do,” he said, getting to his feet. “And besides, it’s time for my own breakfast.” He walked to the verandah door, his nails clicking on the polished floor. “I’ve got to see a dog about a man, if you’ll pardon the cliché,” and he strolled out on to the verandah and then disappeared out of sight.
There was a long silence while we endeavoured to recover.
“Like a nightmare, isn’t it?” I said, at last. “Maybe we’ll wake up and have a good laugh over this in a little while.”
“Naw,” Bogle said, mopping his face with his handkerchief, “I wouldn’t laugh at it even if it was a dream.”
“I’d rather have a disappearing man and a floating woman to a talking dog,” I said reflectively. “Do you think if we packed our bags and skipped, we’d be able to shake him off?”
“That dawg wants to stay with us,” Bogle said gloomily. “Anyway, that’s what he said last night.”
“Then I think you had better take him away and leave us to mourn for you,” Myra put in. “I don’t see why we should all be driven mad.”
Doc Ansell came in. He was looking a little tired, but there was a light of battle in his eye.
“There you are,” he said.
“Breakfast is on its way up. I want to talk to you all this morning. We’ve got to make plans.”
“Have you heard about the dog?” I asked.
Ansell sat down. “What dog?”
“The dog that ate Pablo,” I said. “He’s befriended Samuel.”
“Well, that’s all right,” Ansell looked at me sharply. “There’s nothing like a good dog to keep one company. You don’t object I hope?”
“No, no, nothing like that. But the dog talks. He’s just been in. He even makes little jokes like going to see a dog about a man. Whimsy stuff and he clicks his teeth.”
Ansell looked at me closely. “Talks,” he said. “What do you mean… talks??”
“Just that,” I returned, stretching out and making myself comfortable. “I thought you might have an explanation. I wish you could have heard him. At the moment, I’m suffering from general collapse.”
“I see,” Ansell said thoughtfully. “Well, maybe I will hear him. Actually, of course, I’m not at all surprised. I’ve been thinking things over and I’ve come to the conclusion that we mustn’t be surprised at whatever happens. You see Myra has now the full powers of Nagualism concentrated around her. It is likely to set off the most unlikely things.”
I smiled, “Oh, so Myra’s at the bottom of it, is she?”
“Why, certainly,” Doc returned. “None of you would believe me when I told you about the powers of the Naguales, you’re seeing for yourselves. The great thing, of course , is to try to control it. That’s really what I want to talk to Myra about.”
The little Mexican girl came in with a tray and put it on the table by my bed. It was quite a relief to see someone who looked completely normal and who hadn’t fear lurking in her eye.
When she had gone, and Myra had poured out the coffee, Ansell picked up his threads.
“Now look, young woman, I am perfectly convinced that you have unlimited powers. It’s no use your trying not to believe this. You’ve got to face it. Rather than let those powers control you, you’ve got to try to control them. I know a little about this business. I’ve studied it and I know that you can’t do things unless you’re in the right frame of mind. For instance, as you are now, relaxed and worried, you’ll never be able to evoke the powers. But, last night, when those bandits arrived you were frightened and without knowing it, you were in the right atmosphere to perform. There are no limits to what you can do. I don’t think you ought to waste your talents.”
Myra put down her coffee cup with sudden determination. “All I want is to get back to my normal life. And more than anything, I want to have some peace and quiet.”
Ansell sighed, “Disappointing,” he said, half to himself. “You don’t seem to realize that with your powers you could become mistress of the world. Haven’t you any ambition?”
“Not that kind of ambition, thank you,” Myra said shortly. “It’s no use talking. I’m just not going to do anything about it.”
“I think she’s right,” I said. “The whole thing doesn’t bear thinking about. How long are these powers likely to last?”
Ansell scratched his ear thoughtfully, “I’m not quite sure,” he said. “The Naguales used to begin their rituals at the beginning of the full moon. It may be that the power is influenced by the moon. If that’s so, she’s got to the end of the month before she returns to normal. Why not make hay until then? It’s not long. She’ll never be able to regain the power now that Quintl’s dead.”
“And a good thing too,” Myra said firmly. “I’m going to be very careful of how I act for the next few weeks. If I can get through that time without anything more happening, I’m g to be quite contented.”
I threw up his hands in disgust. “What about my snake-bite remedy?” he demanded. “Am I to get nothing out of this?”
“I’m sorry, Doc,” Myra returned, “but I don’t want anything more to do with this business. It’s all very well for you, but…”
“Can’t you do something?” Ansell appealed to me.
I was already racking my brains, “I don’t think so,” I said at last. “You see, she ain’t interested in the reward any more.”
“What?” Bogle said, sitting up. “What about us? Ain’t we considered?”
“That’s up to you, Myra,” I said, looking over at her. “Don’t you see we can’t claim the reward?” she said. “We’re not entitled to it.”
“It wouldn’t be honest,” I said, grinning at Bogle.
“Wouldn’t be what?” he snarled, growing red in the face. “What’s this… a gag?”
“I’m afraid our Myra’s become honest overnight,” I said. “A girl’s got to have her conscience, you know.”
“Yeah?” Bogle bellowed, “I’ll tell you something. She’s trying to gyp us!”
“You can believe what you like,” Myra said quietly, “but I’m not having anything to do with it. I want to go somewhere quiet and wait until the end of the month.”
I thought of all the publicity I’d lose and I thought of Maddox. What he’d do to me if I didn’t get this kid back to New York would be nobody’s business.
“Now, for the love of mike, don’t be in such a hurry,” I said. “Here, you two, get out. I want to talk to her.”
“It’s no good,” Myra said firmly, “I’ve made up my mind,” and she turned to the door.
“Can’t one, of you think of something?” I demanded.
“Really, Ross, I mean it,” she said over her shoulder. As she opened the door, the little Mexican girl came bustling in. She had a telegram which she handed to me. I took it and then waved her away. She seemed glad to go.
“Hold on until I’ve read this,” I said to Myra. “It might be important.”
“Hurry,” Myra said, standing by the door. “I want to change.”
I was staring at the telegram in astonishment. It was from Paul Juden:
Maddox cables girl has been found stop. What are you diddling with stop Civic reception to be held today stop Girl’s father claims reward stop Maddox loves you stop Juden.
“Well, fan me with a plate of soup!” I said and offered the telegram to Myra.
Bogle and Ansell crowded round her and read over her shoulder. There was a moment’s silence which was immediately after exploded by a general uproar.
“What does this mean?” Myra demanded. “Is this something you’ve hatched up?”
“Now don’t set yourself on fire,” I said hastily, “I don’t know any more about this than you do.”
“Yeah?” Bogle said, jerking Myra round. “So you don’t want the money, huh? You double-crossing little hooker! How the hell did you manage it?”
“Don’t be a damn fool!” I said. “She’s got nothing to do with it. It’s her father trying to pull a fast one over Maddox. It sticks out a yard.” I turned to Myra, “What kind of a man is your father?”
She hesitated “He—he’s a bit of a crook,” she said reluctantly. “But there’s no vice in him. He was just born that way.”
“Well, it looks to me like your father’s trying to gyp Maddox. What’s to stop him palming off some other girl as his daughter? You know, precious, that’s about what he’s doing.”
She stared at me, “But the photograph in the paper. They’ll know she’s a fake.”
“Maybe he’s found someone who looks like you.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be hard,” Sam put in. “Any one with a Veronica Lake hair-cut would do.”
This seemed to annoy Myra. “So I look like any one, do I?” she said angrily.
“Now don’t get up in the air,” Ansell said hastily.
I suppose it was the association of ideas. I don’t really know, but thinking about it afterwards, I guess that was what it was. Myra left the ground.
It was an unnerving sight. One minute she was sitting on the bed and the next she was sitting on nothing, about three feet above the bed.
The most astonished person in the room was Myra herself. “Now, see what you’ve done,” she said in alarm, “Don’t stare at me, do something.”
But we all just sat and stared.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to stand a great deal more of this,” I finally jerked out. “Will you calm down, Myra, and stop messing around?”
The first initial shock over, Myra reached for the bed rail and anchored herself. Then she pulled herself back to the bed. She settled on the bed with the lightness and instability of a thistle down.
“Levitation,” Ansell said. “It’ll pass off if you don’t excite yourself.”
“It’s rather fun,” Myra said, still looking a little scared. “Would any of you mind if I cast off?”
“Don’t do it,” Bogle pleaded. “Please don’t do it.”
“Oh, nuts!” Myra snapped. “Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself,” and she very cautiously pushed herself away from the bed.
She immediately rose in the air in a sitting position and then she overbalanced and turned upside down. Her feet shot up towards the ceiling and she hung suspended a few feet from the floor.
“Help!” she cried. “What am I going to do now?”
Ansell went to her rescue and got her straightened out. After a little balancing, she managed to float, lying full length.
“This is rather fun,” she said. “But it’s an effort to keep straight. Pull my feet down, Doc, I want to see if I can walk.”
“I can’t and won’t stand it,” Bogle said, closing his eyes and screwing up his fists.
“You shut up!” Ansell said, pushing Myra’s feet down and helping her upright. “She’s doing very well.”
Myra took a few hesitating steps and managed to cross the room some three feet above the floor. It was a shocking sight and I could hardly bring myself to watch her.
“I think I’d prefer to lie out,” she said, drawing up her feet and stretching out.
“I’ll give you a push,” Doc said and he did so, sending her floating across the room where she bumped gently against the wall. She was like a toy balloon and she bounced off the wall and came floating back to me. I reached out and dragged her back on the bed.
“Please stop,” I pleaded. “You’ll drive me crazy.”
“But, it’s marvellous,” Myra said, her face alight with pleasure. “You’re only jealous. Let me go once more across the room and then I promise I won’t do it again.”
“Well, if it means so much to you,” I said and shoved her off into space again. I must have given her too hard a posh because she shot across the room narrowly missing Doc who threw himself on the floor with a squeal of fear. She banged against the wall, ricocheted like a billiard ball and whizzed over Bogle, who cowered down in his chair. Then the power that held her up seemed to be snatched away, for she came down on the end of her spine with a thud that made the coffee cups rattle.
Ansell hurried over to her and helped her up.
“Ooch!” she said, limping across to the bed. “There’s nothing for you to laugh at.”
“If you could have seen yourself,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. “You’d have laughed too.”
“Next time I take to flying, I’ll pad my undercarriage,” she said feelingly, as she sat down on the bed.
Bogle peered at her between his fingers. When he assured himself that she was sitting quietly, he took his hand away and sucked his teeth noisily. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said. “A sight like that doesn’t belong anywhere.”
“Think of the shoe leather I’ll save,” Myra said, smiling happily. “That was really something to experience.”
“Can’t we get our minds down to business?” I asked. “Not that I can think clearly. This’s about the craziest moment of my life, but we’ve still to settle about your father. Can you discuss him without becoming inflated?”
Myra’s face clouded, “I was forgetting him,” she said. “There’s nothing to discuss. I’m going to see him.”
“Now, don’t be in too great a rush,” I said. “The first thing to do is to get hold of Juden. He’ll have details. Then we can decide what to do. We’ll get packed up and go to Mexico City as quickly as we can. We ought to get there by to-night. Then we can talk things over with him, make plans and see what it’s all about.”
“Sam and I are coining,” Ansell said firmly. “Don’t you get any ideas about stopping us.”
I looked questioningly at Myra. She shrugged. “Oh, well,” she said, “I suppose they’d better.”
Just then the verandah door pushed open, and Whisky came in. “Mexico City?” he growled.
“I haven’t been there since I was a pup. I’ll come along too.”
I shook my head. “Listen,” I said firmly. “I’m not interested in your puppy life. We haven’t room for you and none of us like dogs. If you want to go to Mexico City you make your own arrangements.”
Ansell was staring at the dog in delight. “My goodness! He’s worth a fortune. Of course, he must come with us,” he said.
Whisky eyed him suspiciously. “If you’ve got any ideas of exploiting me,” he snapped, “forget them I’m against any form of sweatshop labour. I’m coming with you because I’m tired of the other dogs in this town. A change will do me good.”
“He talks like a real gentleman, doesn’t he?” Bogle said in awe.
Myra went to the door. “I think I’m going mad,” she said in a firm voice.
Whisky eyed her thoughtfully, “Upon my word that’s a pretty trull,” he said. “Whoever gets her will be a lucky dog.”
Myra looked at him, her eyes wide with horror, then she disappeared, slamming the door behind her.