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Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [238]

By Root 1574 0
his eyes. No point in spending his last moments listening to the raving of a madman when he could be remembering pleasant scenes of the past for the last time. He pictured Daphne's smiling face . . . but the vision of her chained to a chair rose to blot out the image. He thought of Adoranne and Alain—and pictured them humbled before Quelius as he lolled on his stolen throne flanked by his secret police. Jorlemagne's towering figure was there—shaking his head futilely. Luppo rose up; Gizelle looked at him tearfully. Belarius stared at him accusingly; Agent Raunchini shook a fist at him, mouthing reproaches. The lean visage of Wizner Hiz was there, alight with triumph as he led his choral group in song . . .

Lafayette opened his eyes. Quelius was busily stringing wires.

"Won't be a moment, O'Leary. Don't be impatient," he called.

Lafayette cleared his throat, and started to sing:

"What's this?" the oldster looked around in surprise. "Vocal renditions in the face of eternity? A notable display of pluck. Pity your bride will never know. I intend to tell her that you kicked and screamed, offered to trade her for your life, volunteered to cut her ears off and all that sort of thing. Most amusing to watch her attempting to keep a stiff upper lip."

"Catchy tune," Quelius said. "Interesting rhythm. Seems to be a variation on the natural reality harmonic. Curious. Where did you learn it?"

"You're annoying me, O'Leary," Quelius snapped. He had stopped work to glare at his captive. "Stop that caterwauling at once!"

"Stop it at once, do you hear?" Quelius shrieked, covering his ears. "You're making me dizzy!" Suddenly he snatched up the knife from the heap of tools at his feet, leaned far out and slashed at the rope supporting the net.

There was a sharp pop! The rasping of the knife against the rope ceased abruptly. In the sudden silence, O'Leary thought he heard a faint, faraway cry, that trailed off into silence . . .

Footsteps rasped on the stone steps. O'Leary pried an eye open, saw Jorlemagne leaning out to pull the net in to the landing.

" . . . found the entry . . . few minutes to discover trick . . . Quelius . . . where is he—" the scientist's voice boomed and faded.

"Daphne—upstairs . . ." Lafayette managed; and then the darkness folded in like a black comforter.

3

Lafayette awoke lying on his back in a narrow white bed. An anxious-looking old fellow whom he recognized as the royal physician was hovering over him.

"Ah, awake at last, are we, sir? Now, just rest quietly—"

"Where's Daphne?" O'Leary sat up, threw off the covers.

"Sir Lafayette! I must insist! You've been unconscious for two days—"

"Nonsense! I've never felt better. Where is she?"

"Why—ah—as to that—Countess Daphne is in her apartments—in seclusion. She, er, doesn't wish to be disturbed—"

"Don't be silly, I don't want to disturb her." Lafayette leaped up, staggering only slightly, and grabbed a robe from the chair beside the bed.

"But Sir Lafayette—you can't—"

"Just watch me!"

Two minutes later, O'Leary rapped on Daphne's door.

"It's me, Lafayette!" he called. "Open up, Daphne!"

"Go away," came a muffled reply.

"Lafayette—what seems to be the trouble?" Jorlemagne called, arriving at a trot. "Dr. Ginsbag told me you'd leaped up and dashed off in a frenzy!"

"What's the matter with Daphne? She won't open the door!"

The old gentleman spread his hands. "Poor child, she's been through so much. I suggest you give her a few weeks to recover from the shock—"

"A few weeks! Are you out of your beanie? I want to see her now!" He pounded on the door again. "Daphne! Open this door!"

"Go away, you imposter!"

"Imposter—" Lafayette whirled to the startled sentries flanking the door. "All right, boys—break it down!"

As they hesitated, shuffling their feet and exchanging anxious glances, the door was flung open. Daphne stood there, dabbing at tear-reddened eyes. She jumped back as Lafayette reached for her.

"Leave me alone, you . . . you makeup artist," she wailed. "I knew you weren't really Lafayette the minute you threw the soup tureen

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