Fredrick Brown - Night of the Jabberwock

I wanted names and such. I grabbed a pencil. Where I was going to put the story, I didn't know. Evans talked a while and I took notes until I had all I wanted and then I said again, "Now please don't give me any more. I'm going nuts already."

He laughed and got up. He said, "Okay, Doc." He strolled to the door and then turned around after he was halfway through it. "Then you don't want to know about Sheriff Kates' being under arrest."

He went on through and was halfway down the stairs before I caught him and dragged him back.

Dixon, who ran the crook-hideout, had been paying protection to Kates and had proof of it. When he'd been raided he'd thought Kates had double-crossed him, and he'd talked. The state police had headed for Kates' office and had picked him up as he was entering the courthouse at six o'clock.

I sent out for more black coffee.

There was only one more interruption and it came just before we were finally closing the forms at half past eleven.

Clyde Andrews. He said, "Doc, I want to thank you again for what you did last night. And to tell you that the boy and I have had a long talk and everything is going to be all right."

"That's wonderful, Clyde."

"Another thing, Doc, and I hope this isn't bad news for you. I mean, I hope you were deciding not to sell the paper, because I got a telegram from my brother in Ohio; he's definitely taking that offer from out West, so the deal on the paper is off. I'm sorry if you were going to decide to sell."

I said, "That's wonderful, Clyde. But hold the line a second. I'm going to put an ad in the paper to sell it instead."

I yelled across the room to Pete. "Hey, Pete, kill something somewhere and set up an ad in sixty-point type. `FOR SALE, THE CARMEL CITY CLARION. PRICE, ONE MILLION DOLLARS.' "

Back into the phone, "Hear that, Clyde?"

He chuckled. "I'm glad you feel that way about it, Doc. Listen, there's one more thing. Mr. Rogers just called me. He says that we've discovered that the Scouts are going to use the church gym next Tuesday instead of this Tuesday. So we're going to have the rummage sale after all. If you haven't gone to press and if you haven't got enough news to fill out—"

I nearly choked, but I managed to tell him we'd run the story.

I got to Smiley's at half past twelve with the first paper off the press in my hands. Held carefully.

I put it proudly on the bar. "Read," I told Smiley. "But first the bottle and a glass. I'm half dead and I haven't had a drink for almost six hours. I'm too keyed up to sleep. And I need three quick ones."

I had three quick ones while Smiley read the headlines.

The room began to waver a little and I realized I'd better get to bed and quickly. I said, "Good night, Smiley. 'Sbeen wonnerful knowing you. I gotta—"

I started for the door.

Smiley said, "Doc. Let me drive you home." His voice came from miles and miles away. I saw him start around the end of the bar.

"Doc," he was saying, "sit down and hang on till I get there before you fall down flat on your face."

But the nearest stool was miles away through the brillig, and slithy toves were gimbling at me from the wabe. Smiley's warning had been at least half a second too late.