“Who is it, Powell? WHO IS IT?”

“The Man With No Face.”

Reich emitted a guttural cry of pain. Then he turned and staggered out of the house.

15

TENSION, APPREHENSION, AND dissension have begun.

Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun.

Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun.

Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun.

“Shut up!” Reich cried.

Eight, sir;

Seven, sir;

Six, sir;

Five, Sir;

“For God’s sake! Shut up!”

Four, Sir;

Three, sir;

Two, sir;

One!

“You’ve got to think. Why don’t you think? What’s happened to you? Why don’t you think?”

Tension, apprehension and—

“He was lying. You know he was lying. You were right the first time. A giant booby-trap. WWHG. Refusal. Refusal. But why did he lie? How is that going to help him?”

—dissension have begun.

“The Man with No Face. Breen could have told him. Gus Tate could have told him. Think!”

Tension—

“There is no Man With No Face. It’s just a dream. A nightmare!”

Apprehension—

“But the booby-traps? What about the booby-traps? He had me cold in his house. Why didn’t he pull the switch? Telling me I’m free. What’s he up to? Think!”

Dissension—

A hand touched his shoulder.

“Mr. Reich?”

“What?”

“Mr. Reich!”

“What? Who’s that?”

Reich’s eyes focussed. He became aware that it was raining heavily. He was lying on his side, knees drawn up, arms folded, his cheek buried in mud. He was drenched, shivering with cold. He was in the esplanade of Bomb Inlet. Around him were sighing, sodden trees. A figure was bending over him.

“Who are you?”

“Galen Chervil, Mr. Reich.”

“What?”

“Galen Chervil, sir. From Maria Beaumont’s party. Can I do you that favor, Mr. Reich?”

“Don’t peep me!” Reich cried.

“I’m not, Mr. Reich. We don’t usually —” Young Chervil caught himself. “I didn’t know you knew I was a peeper. You’d better get up, sir.”

He took Reich’s arm and pulled. Reich groaned and yanked his arm free. Young Chervil took him under the shoulders and raised him, staring at Reich’s frightful appearance.

“Were you mugged, Mr. Reich?”

“What? No. No…”

“Accident, sir?”

“No. No, I… Oh, for God’s sake,” Reich burst out, “get the hell away from me!”

“Certainly, sir. I thought you needed help and I owe you a favor, but—”

“Wait,” Reich interrupted. “Come back.” He rasped the bole of a tree and leaned against it, panting hoarsely. Finally he thrust himself erect and glared at Chervil with bloodshot eyes. “You mean that about the favor?”

“Of course, Mr. Reich.”

“No questions asked. No tales told?”

“Certainly not, Mr. Reich.”

“My problem’s murder, Chervil. I want to find out who’s trying to kill me. Will you do me that favor? Will you peep someone for me?”

“I should imagine the police would be able to—”

“The police?” Reich laughed hysterically, then clutched himself in agony as the broken rib caught.

“I want you to peep a cop for me. Chervil. A big cop. The Commissioner of cops. D’you understand?” He let go of the tree and lurched to Chervil. “I want to visit my friend the Commissioner and ask him a few questions. I want you to be there to tell me the truth. Will you come to Crabbe’s office and peep him for me? Will you just do it and forget about it? Will you?”