"He's stayin' at Mrs. Kirpatrick's roomin' house. Poor Mrs. Kirpatrick.
Got a bad case of food poisoning. She ate--"
I ran out of the building and inquired for the rooming house. I found
it and Professor Klugelmeyer.
"What? What? Hard to believe--Hard to believe. Once heard the same
story from Professor Dickson. The poor fellow was put away. You must be
mistaken, old man. You must be. Take my advice. Give up drinking. Bad
for the liver, too, you know."
"That old deputy told me you believe in flying saucers," I said.
"I do. I really do. From Mars, probably. But they certainly won't turn
out to be fish. Fish talking? Come now."
"I didn't believe it at first myself. Listen, Professor, come with me.
See and hear for yourself."
"Well, I don't know."
It took me an hour before I had him half convinced. I almost dragged
him to my car.
"This had better not turn out to be a practical joke," he said. The
professor was somewhere between sixty and seventy. He was kind of thin
and he sported a long white mustache.
It was getting toward evening when we got to the lodge.
I ushered him in to my room. "There," I said, flinging open the
bathroom door.
"Where?" he said.
"There."
"Where?"
I looked. I blinked. I looked again. The tub was empty.
I raced through the house.
In the front room I saw Mrs. O'Brien, my housekeeper.
"Where's Hrodes?" I asked her.
"Who?"
"He was in the tub. I left him there."
"You mean that big fish?"
"Yes, yes. Where is he?"
"He's in the kitchen. We're having him for dinner."
"What!"
"Sure. Yat has it in the oven now."
"You murderer!"
"What are you talking about? It's only a fish. Didn't you catch him so
we'd have fish for dinner?"
"No. Didn't he tell you who he was?"
"Are you crazy? He didn't tell me nothin'. Besides, I didn't see it
till Sun Yat had it all cut up and laid out for cookin'."
Sun Yat, my Chinese cook. Hrodes had met someone who couldn't
understand his plight or be scared out of his wits. Sun Yat was a deaf
mute!
The professor was clucking sadly at me as he stomped out of the house.
Me? There was nothing to do but eat my dinner....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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