“You’re mad!” I said backing away. “Such things can’t happen.”
Bogle came limping over and gaped at Doc. “What the hell are you squealing about?” he said, then looking down at Myra. “What she think she’s doing?”
I jerked my attention from the sausage to Myra. “I’ll take her inside,” I said, and picking her up I carried her into the lounge. When I had laid her on a couch, I yelled for Doc. “Come on,” I shouted. “Help me, will you?”
Ansell came in white and trembling. “I can’t believe it! It’s the most fantastic…”
“Aw, shut up!” I said roughly. “There’s plenty of time to talk when we’ve taken care of this kid. After all, we were in a damn tight spot before this happened. We should be grateful.”
It took some little time to bring Myra round. She opened her eyes at last and blinked unhappily up at me. “I’ve had such an awful dream,” he said sleepily. “Such an awful dream.”
“That’s all right,” I said soothingly. “You go to sleep. I’m right by your side, so there’s nothing to be soared about.”
She smiled at me and then closed her eyes again. In a moment she was breathing regularly.
“I’d be a hit as a father,” I said, pleased. “Did you see that piece of technique?”
Bogle came in. “How’s she doing?” he asked.
“She’s okay,” I said abruptly. “What have you done with the sausage? I want it in here.”
“I’ve given it to the innkeeper’s dawg,” Bogle said indifferently. “He’s a good dawg and I’ve been promising him something…”
“Given it to a dog?” I shouted, grabbing him by the arm.
“Why not?” Bogle said, on the offensive. “Want to make anything of it? Do you think it’s too good for a dawg?”
“Listen, you fat jerk,” I exclaimed. “That wasn’t a sausage. It was Pablo.”
Bogle’s eyes opened. “What was that?” he asked, starting.
“That sausage wasn’t a sausage at all. It was Pablo turned into a sausage,” I explained, trying to keep my voice down.
“The sausage wasn’t a sausage, it was Pablo?” Bogle repeated in a dazed voice. “Was that what you said?”
“Yes, you fat fool!”
“Iszatso? Well, it certainly looked like a sausage to me.”
“I don’t care what it looked like to you! It’s Pablo done up like a sausage.”
“Done up like a sausage?” Bogle’s eyes looked scared. “
“No, you don’t,” I said savagely. “You don’t see at all. Where is the dog? Tell me that and we won’t argue.”
“You’d better take a look at this guy, Doc,” Bogle said to Ansell. “Something’s got loose in his dome.”
“Try to understand,” Ansell said. “Myra has turned Pablo into a sausage.”
A look of horror came into Bogle’s eyes. “You, too?” he whispered, backing away. “Don’t you think you guys ought to sit down or something?”
“I tell you Pablo’s in that sausage!” Ansell snapped. “You’ve got to get it back at once.” Bogle shivered. “Maybe I’m going bats, too,” he said hoarsely. “Maybe it ain’t you two but me. Maybe I’m just hearing voices in my brain.”
“What are you drivelling about?” I stormed at him.
“Someone keeps telling me that Pablo’s a sausage,” Bogle wailed. “I’ve gone nuts! I knew I’d go nuts and by God I’ve gone nuts!”
“I tell you, Pablo has been turned into a sausage,” Ansell hissed, pushing his face into Bogle’s. “Now will you do something about it, you large lump of useless blubber!”
Bogle closed his eyes and sat abruptly on the floor. “This is going to be a pretty sad day for my old lady,” he said, as if to himself. “I wouldn’t like to be the guy to tell her her only son’s gone bugs,” and he lay flat on his back and began making humming noises.
“Come on, Doc,” I said. “We’ve got to find the dog by ourselves.”
We didn’t have to go far. Just outside on the verandah there was an enormous wolfhound lying on the floor who glanced up with bored overfed eyes as we came out. There was no sign of the sausage. As we stood staring, the wolfhound dosed his eyes luxuriously and licked his chops.
“He’s eaten Pablo,” I said in a hushed, horrified voice. “That’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”
Doc took off his hat and lowered his head.
Then a sudden thought struck me and I gripped his arm in alarm. “Doc!” I gasped. “Do you realize what this means? She’s got the whip hand over us all. We won’t be able to open our mouths.”
Doc put on his hat again and blinked at me. “What do you mean?” he asked, bewildered.
“Can’t you see what she can do if she decides she doesn’t like any of us?” I looked furtively over my shoulder, then lowering my face close to his, I whispered: “She might even turn you into a pork pie and give you to me for my lunch. How would you like that?”
Doc just fainted away in ray arms.
Chapter EIGHT
I WOKE the next morning to see the sun streaming through the grass blinds. I could hear the sing-song chatter of the Mexican waiters preparing breakfast in the patio below. I glanced at my wrist-watch. It was 6.40.
Not much use going to sleep again, so I reached for my cigarette case. Then I propped myself up in the hard little bed and brooded.
Once I got to thinking, I realized just how much there was to think about. It was terrific. In twenty-four hours the whole set-up had so completely changed that I was up the creek without a paddle. When planning a newspaper campaign, a modern newspaperman can’t take miracles into consideration. But, on the face of it, that was what I had to do. The kidnapped blonde story was as dead as a mummy. The blonde who could work miracles was front-page news. But how would Maddox react? I thought gloomily that he’d can me before I could give him a demonstration. On the other hand, of course, I might be able to persuade Myra to give him a little scare and get my job back.
What about Myra anyway? I couldn’t imagine either Ansell or myself persuading her against her will. It’d, take all my time, anyway, to keep on the right side of her. It wasn’t as if she were a soft cookie. She’d always been difficult and now with powers such as she possessed, she was going to be a definite menace.
I came out in a cold sweat when I thought of Pablo. His was a story that could never be written. There was no proof and no one would believe it. If I even hinted to Maddox what had happened he would have sent me to the booby-hatch. I wouldn’t blame him at that. So the Pablo episode had to be forgotten.
The next point was to find another approach to the kidnapping angle. How to make Maddox and Myra happy at the same time. Not easy. The 25,000-dollars reward complicated matters. I regretfully decided that I wasn’t going to see much of that. Knowing Myra, I was pretty certain that she’d grab all of it. I couldn’t see myself arguing about it either. What was 25,000 dollars if I were turned into a hamburger or a breast of chicken?
I ran my fingers through my hair. This was driving me screwy. I played with the idea of getting up, packing quietly and sneaking off to Mexico City. I’d lose my job, but at least, I’d be clear of the whole thing. The thought tempted me.
Then there was a light tap on my door and Myra came in. She was in flame-coloured pyjamas and a scarlet dressing gown. And as she stood in the diffused light, with the little bolts of sunlight in her hair, I thought she was the loveliest thing I’d seen for a long time.
She closed the door gently and leaned against it.
We looked at each other as if we had met for the first time and I was conscious of a new feeling for her. Up to now, she had been a subject to write about. But, seeing her there, her big eyes serious, the sun in her hair, the way she held her head, well, I guess she sent a tingle through my veins. At that moment, she came alive and
