"Henry Kuttner - Call Him Demon UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

But her youngest cousin only said, 'I don't want to go down there, Janie.'

'You don't have to.'

'Yes, I do,' Emily said. 'I'll tell you what. I won't be afraid if you come right after me. I always think there's something coming up behind me to grabЧbut if you promise to come right after, it'll be all right.'

'I promise,' Jane said.

Reassured, Emily walked across the bridge. Jane was watching closely this time. Yet she did not see Emily disappear. She was suddenlyЧgone. Jane stepped forward, and stopped as a sound came from downstairs.

'fane!' Aunt Bessie's voice, 'fane!' It was louder and more peremptory now. 'Jane, where are you? Come here to me!'

Jane stood motionless, looking across the plank bridge. It was quite empty, and there was no trace of Emily or the other children. The attic was suddenly full of invisible menace. Yet she would have gone on, because of her promise, ifЧЧ

'fane!'

Jane reluctantly descended and followed the summons to Aunt Bessie's bedroom. That prim-mouthed woman was pinning fabric and moving her lips impatiently.

'Where on earth have you been, Jane? I've been calling and calling.'

'We were playing,' Jane said. 'Did you want me, Aunt Bessie?'

'I should say I did,' Aunt Bessie said. 'This collar I've been crocheting. It's a dress for you. Come here and let me try it on. How you grow, child!'

And after that there was an eternity of pinning and wriggling, while Jane kept thinking of Emily, alone and afraid somewhere in the attic. She began to hate Aunt Bessie. Yet the thought of rebellion or escape never crossed her mind. The adults were absolute monarchs. As far as relative values went, trying on the collar was more important, at this moment, than anything else in the world. At least, to the adults who administered the world.

While Emily, alone and afraid on the bridge that led toЧelsewhere. . . .

The uncles were playing poker. Aunt Gertrude, the vaudeville actress, had unexpectedly arrived for a few days and was talking with Grandmother Keaton and Aunt Bessie in the living-room. Aunt Gertrude was small and pretty, very charming, with bisque delicacy and a gusto for life that filled Jane with admiration. But she was subdued now.

'This place gives me the creeps,' she said, making a dart with

her folded fan at Jane's nose. 'Hello, funny^face. Why aren't you playing with the other kids?'

'Oh, I'm .tired/ Jane said, wondering about Emily. It had been nearly an hour sinceЧЧ

'At your age I was never tired,' Aunt Gertrude said. 'Now look at me. Three a day and that awful straight man I've gotЧMa, did I tell youЧЧЧ' The voices pitched lower.

Jane watched Aunt Bessie's skinny fingers move monotonously as she darted her crochet hook through the silk.

'This place is a morgue,' Aunt Gertrude said suddenly.. 'What's wrong with everybody? Who's dead?'

'It's the air,' Aunt Bessie said. 'Too hot the year round.' 'You play Rochester in winter, Bessie my girl, and you'll be glad of a warm climate. It isn't that, anyway. I feel likeЧmm-m Чit's like being on stage after the curtain's gone up.' 'It's your fancy,' her mother said.

'Ghosts,' Aunt Gertrude said, and was silent. Grandmother Keaton looked sharply at Jane. 'Come over here, child,' she said.

Room was made on the soft, capacious lap that had held so many youngsters.

Jane snuggled against the reassuring warmth and tried to let her mind go blank, transferring all sense of responsibility to Grandmother Keaton. But it wouldn't work. There was something wrong in the house, and the heavy waves of it beat out from a center very near them.