Back The Intruder
Chapters (32)
  1. By the Same Author
  2. Introduction by Roger Corman
  3. THE INTRUDER
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. About the Author

“You made your choice. Of course, you tried to hang onto both when you swept in here with the big book proposition, but it was a lost cause, and you knew it would be.”

Outside, the late morning heat pressed up against the windows and made invisible snakes swim over the streets. An occasional auto horn moaned, but there was otherwise no sound.

“Now I suppose you’re not talking because you think I’m sorry for you. You’re wondering if I’m sorry enough—and disillusioned enough—to call everything off and maybe go shoot myself, or something. Right? I mean, it’d be pretty horrible, wouldn’t it, degrading yourself like this in front of a mere boy and all for nothing? God, then you wouldn’t have anything left! No idolators, no pride, no job. No nothin’.”

Blake sat tensely; his eyes were moist and wild behind the heavy glasses.

Adam grinned and walked close to the bed. He lit a cigarette, dropped the match into a glass ashtray, and said: “What would you do, Professor? Where would you go?”

“Stop it!” Blake cried. “Stop it, Adam, please. I don’t care what you think. Perhaps some of it is true. That doesn’t matter now. I’m asking you as a friend—”

“Quote. ‘A friend is one who, after he has stabbed you in the back, will be moved to select a tasteful tombstone.’ Unquote. Try asking me as an enemy, instead. Only remember, ‘One is judged by the quality as well as the quantity of his enemies.’ Or look: why not go right to the bottom and beg me. Be pitiful. Be pathetic, even a little comical. Maybe I’ll be so disgusted I’ll give up. Well, aren’t you going to beg?”

Slowly Blake said, “Very well. I beg you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think you have your heart in it. I tell you what, though. Try it on your knees. That might help.”

Blake’s eyes flashed. His right hand clutched the edge of the mattress, and Adam could see that the little flexible bones across his knuckles were white.

“Okay, forget it. I thought this meant something to you. Apparently it doesn’t, though.”

“I’ll pay you,” Blake said. “I’ll give you whatever you ask, within reason.”