and when?
"Somebody you horsed around with up at New Jericho?" she went on resentfully. "Or is it somebody you dug up for yourself since you been hiding out down here in the city?"
"I've been undercover the whole time down here--"
"Well you weren't undercover up there!" she Flashed back.
That gave him the answer. The one answer he had already guessed. Up there was where. New Jericho. Only one remaining lantern to steer for now. When? When? When?
Meanwhile she was still aggrieved. "Let her buy your groceries for you, then, if she's so hot! That's a fine thing! I've got to hear somebody else's name in my ear, even--"
"Sh! they'll hear you around this dump. Listen, there's no Virginia. I don't know any Virginia. To me it's a state--"
"-You- weren't thinking of geography just then!" the let him know seethingly.
He reached out and caught hold of her hand. She came back to him by diminishing zones of aloofness. First sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, her back to him. Then reclining on the point of one elbow, face still averted. Then relapsing in full forgiveness, head to his shoulder once more.
When? When? When?
"Light one for me too. Like you used to.... Gee your eyes look shiny by matchlight, Danny.... No, don't blow it out! Save it for me, I want to make a wish.... There.... What was it? You ought to be able to guess. That they'll never catch up with you; that they'll let me keep you to myself like this, forever."
Forever. A time word. There it was, right there. Better grab it quick, he mightn't get another chance that night.
"Forever is a long time. How long has it been-- like this with me now? Any idea? I'm not so good at keeping track of time--"
"Nine months now, isn't it?" The question tricked her into some more of that audible counting up that is a weakness of those who are imperfectly schooled. "Let's see, August, September, October... yeah, it was nine months on the fifteenth. I don't know how you've been able to bold out that long--"
So it had happened, whatever it was, on August fifteenth, the year before.
Where, plus when, equals the past.
14
He was as timorous about entering the reading room of the library as he had been of venturing into the station, although it had a reassuring atmosphere of scholarly absorption, of seclusion from the everyday world. Still, who could tell what eyes might not suddenly look up, rest on him in explosive recognition?
He kept his head down as he approached the reservation desk, got in line behind several others.
"Do you keep any back numbers of newspapers from New Jericho on file here?"
The attendant looked it up for him. "No, I'm sorry, we don't."
Maybe none were published there. Who could tell how small a place it was? It might be just an unincorporated crossroads.
He tried another question. "Have you any idea, offhand, what the nearest large town to it is?"
The librarian didn't seem surprised, as though this was less erratic than many another question he bad been called upon to answer in his time. "I'm not sure, but I believe Meredith would be about the closest."
"Well, have you any Meredith back-number papers on file here?"
The attendant looked that up. "We have the Meredith -Leader-, but I don't know how complete a file we have on it. Fill out this card and then wait over there by the call board until your number comes up."
He filled it out "Meredith -Leader-, August i6th, 1940," and signed it "Allen." That would be about right, the day after.
When the paper was brought to him he handled it gingerly. Suddenly he wanted to drop it, never to look inside it. He wanted to escape from this room, from Tillary Street, from himself. The past Was here in his hands, and he was afraid of it. Frank Townsend and Dan Nearing were together at last.
What had Dan Nearing done? He took the paper over with him to one of the tables and sat down in front of it
"Somebody you horsed around with up at New Jericho?" she went on resentfully. "Or is it somebody you dug up for yourself since you been hiding out down here in the city?"
"I've been undercover the whole time down here--"
"Well you weren't undercover up there!" she Flashed back.
That gave him the answer. The one answer he had already guessed. Up there was where. New Jericho. Only one remaining lantern to steer for now. When? When? When?
Meanwhile she was still aggrieved. "Let her buy your groceries for you, then, if she's so hot! That's a fine thing! I've got to hear somebody else's name in my ear, even--"
"Sh! they'll hear you around this dump. Listen, there's no Virginia. I don't know any Virginia. To me it's a state--"
"-You- weren't thinking of geography just then!" the let him know seethingly.
He reached out and caught hold of her hand. She came back to him by diminishing zones of aloofness. First sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, her back to him. Then reclining on the point of one elbow, face still averted. Then relapsing in full forgiveness, head to his shoulder once more.
When? When? When?
"Light one for me too. Like you used to.... Gee your eyes look shiny by matchlight, Danny.... No, don't blow it out! Save it for me, I want to make a wish.... There.... What was it? You ought to be able to guess. That they'll never catch up with you; that they'll let me keep you to myself like this, forever."
Forever. A time word. There it was, right there. Better grab it quick, he mightn't get another chance that night.
"Forever is a long time. How long has it been-- like this with me now? Any idea? I'm not so good at keeping track of time--"
"Nine months now, isn't it?" The question tricked her into some more of that audible counting up that is a weakness of those who are imperfectly schooled. "Let's see, August, September, October... yeah, it was nine months on the fifteenth. I don't know how you've been able to bold out that long--"
So it had happened, whatever it was, on August fifteenth, the year before.
Where, plus when, equals the past.
14
He was as timorous about entering the reading room of the library as he had been of venturing into the station, although it had a reassuring atmosphere of scholarly absorption, of seclusion from the everyday world. Still, who could tell what eyes might not suddenly look up, rest on him in explosive recognition?
He kept his head down as he approached the reservation desk, got in line behind several others.
"Do you keep any back numbers of newspapers from New Jericho on file here?"
The attendant looked it up for him. "No, I'm sorry, we don't."
Maybe none were published there. Who could tell how small a place it was? It might be just an unincorporated crossroads.
He tried another question. "Have you any idea, offhand, what the nearest large town to it is?"
The librarian didn't seem surprised, as though this was less erratic than many another question he bad been called upon to answer in his time. "I'm not sure, but I believe Meredith would be about the closest."
"Well, have you any Meredith back-number papers on file here?"
The attendant looked that up. "We have the Meredith -Leader-, but I don't know how complete a file we have on it. Fill out this card and then wait over there by the call board until your number comes up."
He filled it out "Meredith -Leader-, August i6th, 1940," and signed it "Allen." That would be about right, the day after.
When the paper was brought to him he handled it gingerly. Suddenly he wanted to drop it, never to look inside it. He wanted to escape from this room, from Tillary Street, from himself. The past Was here in his hands, and he was afraid of it. Frank Townsend and Dan Nearing were together at last.
What had Dan Nearing done? He took the paper over with him to one of the tables and sat down in front of it
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