littlevacation together somewhere."
He grinned and reached for her. This, it developed, was a mistake,because Joy reached for him at the same time. She lifted histwo-hundred-odd pounds as though he were a baby and he went flyingacross the room like a projectile. He hit a radiator head-on and laystill.
Again I was stupefied. It seemed I knew nothing at all about this girlI'd married. She smiled at me and said, "Don't be alarmed, angel.There's an explanation. You see, my mother gave me money for pianolessons and I invested most of it in a course of ju-jitsu. I thought anoccasion like this might arise sometime. Do you want to take McCaffery,or shall I do it? I doubt if he'll come to the station peaceably."
But Hands McCaffery was not to be caught flatfooted. Without his machinegun he was just an ordinary little man who didn't want to go with us. Hetook one look at the prone barkeep, muttered, "Geez!" and headed for theback door.
"Get him," Joy yelled. "Maybe we can make a deal with the cops to fryHands in place of Uncle Peter!"
I started after Hands and as I went through the back door I heard UnclePeter protesting feebly. "I say now. This is all uncalled-for--"
"Don't let him get away!" Joy called. "He's got the serum!"
That cleared things up somewhat and made me even more resolute.Evidently we had interrupted Uncle Peter and Hands in the process ofdoing away with all the latter's enemies. With that bottle in hispossession, he was a menace to the entire population of the city. A manof his type would certainly have far more enemies than friends.
Outside in the dark alley, I was guided only by footsteps. The sound ofHands' retreat told me he was moving up the smelly passageway towardDivision Street. I went after him.
I am no mean sprinter, having won laurels in college for my fleetness inthe two-twenty and the four-forty, and I had no trouble in overtakingthe little assassin. We were fast approaching the alley entrance where Iwould have had the aid of street lights and could have swiftly collaredMcCaffery whose heavy breathing I could now hear--when disaster struckin the form of a painful obstacle. It was heavy and it caught me justbelow the knees.
I tripped and fell headlong, plowing along a couple of yards of slipperybrick pavement on my face. I got groggily to my feet and shook my headto clear my brain. From the deposits of old eggs, rejected tomatoes andother such refuse in my face and ears, I gathered that I had trippedover a garbage can.
This delayed me for some moments. When I finally staggered out intoDivision Street, a strange sight met my eyes. Hands McCaffery had beenapprehended. It seemed that the police had orders to pick him up becausetwo uniformed patrolmen had him backed against the wall and wereapproaching him with caution. They had him covered and were taking nochances of his pulling a belly gun on them.
But he did not draw a gun. Instead, while I stared wide-eyed, he raisedUncle Peter's vial to his lips and drank the contents.
I will not bore you with details of his going _pop_. If you have readthis letter carefully, the details are not necessary.
I turned and retraced my steps, realizing Hands McCaffery had beenvicious and defiant to the last. Rather than submit to arrest, he hadtaken the wild animal's way out.
I arrived back in Joe's Tavern to find the barkeep had been revived andbore none of us any ill-will. This no doubt because of Joy's persuasiveabilities. Cora was sulking in a booth and Uncle Peter was patching thegash on the barkeep's head.
* * * * *
I entered with a heavy heart, realizing, as a good citizen, I must turnmy own uncle over to the police. But there was an interlude before Iwould be forced into this unpleasant task. This interlude was furnishedby Bag Ears. After I acquainted the group with the news of how Hands hadtaken the easy way out, Bag Ears' face took on a rapt, silent look ofhappiness. He was staring at Joy. He said, "Pretty--very pretty!"
Joy said, "Thank you."
Bag Ears said, "Pretty--pretty--pretty."
Joy looked at me. "What's eating _him_?"
There was a bottle on the bar together with some glasses. I stepped overand poured myself a drink. I certainly needed it. "Bag Ears isn'treferring to you, dear. He's alluding to his bells. He's hearing themagain."
"Oh, my sky-blue panties! Pour me a drink."
I complied. "You see, Bag Ears is somewhat punch-drunk from his years inthe prize ring. I've seen this happen before."
We sipped our brandy and watched Bag Ears move toward the door.
"That's the way it always is. When he hears the bells, he feels aterrific urge to go forth and search for them. But he always ends up atRed Nose Tessie's and she takes him home. It's no use trying to stophim. He'll hang one on you."
As Bag Ears disappeared into the street, there were tears in Joy's eyes."He's dreaming of his bells," she murmured. "I think that's beautiful."She held up her glass. "May he find his bells. Pour me another drink."
I poured two and we drank to that.
"May we all someday find our bells," Joy said with emotion, and I wasdelighted to find my wife a girl of such deep sentiment. "Pour meanother."
I did. "Your quotation was wrong, sweetheart," I said. "Don't you mean,'May we all find our Shangri-La?'"
"Of course. Let's drink to it."
We drank to it and were rudely interrupted by the barkeep who said, "Ihope you got some dough. That stuff ain't water."
I gave him a ten-dollar bill and--with a heavy heart--turned to UnclePeter. "Come, Uncle," I said gently. "We might as well get it overwith."
"Get what over with?"
"Our trip to the police station. You must give yourself up of course."
"What for?"
I shook my head sadly. Uncle Peter would never fry. His mind wasobviously out of joint. "For murder."
He looked at Joy. He said, "Oh, my broken test tube! There is no needof--"
"I know it will be hard for them to convict you without _corpusdelicti_, but you must confess."
"Let's all go over to my laboratory."
"If you wish. You may have one last visit there."
"Excellent--one last visit." He smiled and I wondered if I saw a certaincraftiness behind it.
Cora voiced no objections, seemingly anxious to stay near Uncle Peter.When we got to his laboratory, he went on through into his livingquarters and took a suit case from the closet.
"What are you going to do?"
"Pack my things."
"Oh, of course. You'll need some things in jail."
"Who said anything about jail? I'm going to Tibet."
"_Tibet!_ Uncle Peter! I won't allow it. You must stay here and face themusic."
"The music is in Tibet, Homer. That's one of the reasons I'm goingthere. To a monastery high in Himalayas. There are some wonderful menthere I've always wanted to meet--yogis who have such control overnatural laws that they can walk on water and move straight through solidwalls."
"But, Uncle Peter! If you want to go to Tibet, you should have thoughtof it before. It's too late now. You've committed murder."
"Bosh! I haven't killed anyone. The serum I discovered is one oftransition, not murder. It causes the stepping-up of the human physicalstructure into an infinitely higher rate of vibration. Two controls aredistilled into it. One is a timer that sets off the catalysis, and theother is a directive element based upon higher mathematics which allowsthe creator of the serum to direct the higher vibratory residue of thephysical form to be put down at any prearranged point on the globebefore the reforming element takes effect."
Joy said, "Oh, my painted G-string!"
I strove to absorb all this. "You mean those people weren't destroyed?"
Joy was quicker on the reaction. "Of course. I couldn't picture UnclePeter as a killer somehow. He merely picked them up here and set themdown in Tibet. Can't you understand? He just explained it to you."
Of course I didn't want to admit my mental haziness to Joy, so I skippedhastily over it and pointed an accusing finger at Uncle Peter. "But whycouldn't you have conducted your experiments on a hig
her plane. Why didyou have to consort with law-breakers?"
* * * * *
Joy had apparently lost interest. She planted a wifely kiss on my cheekand started toward the door. "I'm going back to Joe's Tavern," she said."It's more fun there. When you get all this straightened out, come onover."
I moved to protest but she waved me down. "Never mind. I'll take a cab."She smiled at me sweetly. "And don't stay too long, darling. I'm sureCora is anxious to get her clothes off."
Cora distinctly pronounced an unprintable name but Joy did not hear it.She was already gone.
I turned to Uncle Peter. "You did not answer my question."
"It's very simple. Even one of your limited brain power should be ableto understand it. You see, with finishing my experiments I was notaverse to doing the city a favor. Why not, I asked myself, perform themupon persons undesirable to our law-abiding populace? Cora wasacquainted with Hands McCaffery and it was through him that I learnedwho the really undesirable people were."
"But why did you invite them to my wedding reception? I'd think youcould find a more appropriate place to carry out your--"
"It was an ideal place to get the Zinsky mob together. Like your AuntGretchen, Mr. Zinsky has social ambitions, and he anticipated no dangerat the reception."
"I can see your point."
"Also, I wanted to get back at your Aunt Gretchen. She's been veryniggardly with funds lately and I wanted to highlight my displeasure ina way she would remember."
I had a fairly clear picture of things now. But I still felt Uncle Petershould be upbraided on a last point. "Uncle Peter, I think it wasshameful of you to inflict those hoodlums on the monks in that monasteryin Tibet. They'll be in panic."
"No. I was careful to send along two policemen to keep them in hand."
"So you're leaving for Tibet?"
"Of course. I've got to follow up and check on the success of my serum,though there is really no doubt as to its potency. Also I'll be able toachieve a life-long ambition--that of meeting the yogis from whom Ishould learn a great deal."
I glanced at Cora. "Are you taking her with you?"
"Of course."
"But yogis are above things of the flesh."
Uncle Peter looked me straight in the eye. "Maybe the yogis are, but I'mnot."
There seemed nothing else to discuss, so I left Uncle Peter's chambersand went back to Joe's Tavern. My mind, now at ease, was filled againwith thought of the honeymoon to come. I would pick up Joy and we wouldbe off to pink-tinted lands.
But there was a slight hitch. When I arrived at Joe's Tavern, Joy wasgone.
I inquired of the barkeep and he brought me up to date. "That screwydame that can throw a guy around? Sure, she was here. She had a fewdrinks and then left again. She said something about having to help afriend find some bells he lost. I don't know what kind of bells they wasbut that dame can locate them if anybody can."
As I was about to leave the tavern, it occurred to me you would want toknow the truth of what's been going on, so I'm now in the backroomwriting this report which I will drop into the nearest mailbox. Then Iwill go out and find my bride and start upon a well-earned honeymoon. Ifyou have any questions, they'll have to wait until I get back.
Yours truly, Homer Nicholas.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _If: Worlds of Science Fiction_ July 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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