Page:Weird Tales volume 36 number 02.djvu/48



ROM behind his enormous desk, my uncle peered at me. "So!" he said in a high, thin voice, "you are Julian!"

"And you," I said, "are Uncle Alfred. I remember you." And the odd thing is that I did actually remember him. Seeing him again, I wondered how his memory could ever have grown so dim. It was like seeing a motion picture, or a play, for the second time, inadvertently; though apparently you had forgotten everything about it, with the first sequence the whole thing comes back in complete detail. I suppose he had changed—he must have changed in fifteen years!—but it seemed to me that I remembered him exactly as I saw him now.

The man was a hog: that is the most accurate, if not the most charitable way to put it. Not having seen him, you may conclude that Uncle Alfred was merely a sufferer from some such disease as dropsy or elephantiasis. But he was no invalid. On the contrary, he appeared to be in the best of health and spirits—like a vigorous hog. His head was huge and bald except for a few long strands of straight, black hair on the crown; the bulging jowls began just below the rounded brow and descended in a sweeping curve that cradled the chin; the nose was short, the tip raised in such a way that it seemed to be lifting the upper lip, also; the eyes were small, closely-set, and so deeply imbedded that the lids were not visible. They were keen, restless eyes that darted from object to object as if in hungry search for something. (I caught myself wondering what he was looking for: a carrot? An ear of corn?)

"Well, sit down!" he said. "Sit down, my boy! The last time I saw you, you were a baby—and now—look at you—a grown man! Tell me how you are—what you're doing. Did you know that you are my nearest living relative?" His eyes made a quick search of the room for nearer relatives.

It amused me to think of the summons in my pocket and of how angry my uncle would be when I served it on him, and it seemed to me that the longer I delayed, the greater the joke, so I sat down and answered his questions volubly. His curiosity about my life somewhat surprised me, for in the past his interest and his help would have been eagerly welcomed. But he had ignored my existence, and had even failed to reply to my guardians' letters.

Uncle Alfred was obviously impatient with the account I gave him of my childhood. He grunted and twiddled his fat thumbs that just managed to meet across his belly, and it was not until I mentioned my fiancée that he seemed to prick up his rather pointed ears.

"Ah!" he said. "You must tell me all about this girl! Her name?"

"Annette Worth."

"She is young? Of course. Beautiful? Surely. You love her very much?"

"Why, yes," I said. "Certainly." His sudden eagerness annoyed me in some obscure way.

"You are a lucky boy—a lucky boy." He sighed reflectively. "And when is the marriage to be?"

Before I could draw breath, he answered his own question. "Why, that depends on Uncle Alfred. That's why you came here, today. 'Will Uncle Alfred give his loving nephew enough money so that he can be married'?"

I was angry, but at the same time, delighted. How could he have stepped into the trap more effectively? I got to my feet and smiled down at his obese head. "Why no, my dear uncle," I said. "My reason for coming here was nothing of the sort. It was simply a matter of business." I reached into my pocket and drew out the paper. "I have here a summons for one Alfred Fry. It gives me pleasure to serve it on you!" And I slapped it down on the desk in front of him.