The Red Gem of Mercury Read Free Page A

would do. The gem was hidden from casual scrutiny. Vane was whistling softly as he slid the car into gear and began the long journey into Kentonville….

Chapter 3 
    The Man Who Was Dead
    Six hours later, at five-thirty, Vane reached his destination. He paused on the outskirts and bought a paper from an excited newsboy.
    â€œBig mystery, mister,” the kid was yelping. “Men from Mars—escaped convict—jeez!”
    â€œSure,” Vane said, and gave the boy a dollar he found in his pocket. Later he parked under a street light and examined the headlines. A worried frown puckered his brows.
    There was trouble he had not anticipated. His plan had not been successful. The three guards had awakened ten minutes after he left them and started plodding back to the prison. But before they topped the rise they were halted by reinforcements the warden had sent out, The newcomers saw the spaceship, and, worse, they had followed the tracks in the snow.
    They read the signs correctly. One of the escaped convicts had fallen into the gorge. The other had escaped; his tracks ended at the highway, where he had obviously boarded an automobile. The dragnet was still out. The mystery of the surviving convict’s identify wasn’t solved by Hanley, Jaeckel, or Bester. In the face of plain evidence and sane logic, they continued to contend firmly that both Apollo and Vane had fallen into the gorge.
    The spaceship made headlines. Wild guesses were made as to its origin. Naturally, the three guards added little light to the problem. They had never seen the ship before. Obvious they were lying, since their tracks in the snow told a different story. Jaeckel, Hanley, and Bester were now protesting against their confinement in the observation ward.
    Vane grinned
    There was a watch in his vest pocket, he found. Five-thirty-five. And, as the newspaper showed, this was Thursday. The lawyer shoved the car into gear. “Unless Pasqual has changed his methods since I was sent up,” he murmured, “his boys are making the rounds on East Third Street right now. Wonder if Uncle Tobe’s still in business?”
    He had decided on a definite plan. Swiftly he treaded the familiar streets of Kentonville, feeling an odd sense of pleasure at seeing well-known sights again. The City Hall—the old Mattingly mansion—Curlew Park—and the slums. The tenement district, where Vane had been born and where he had fought his way up from the gutter. The slums were part of Vane. Beneath the squalor and the filth he saw something else, a high, unwavering courage that kept on where all else failed. Kids playing naked under the hydrants, bent old shopkeepers saving their pennies to send their children to school, shapeless, tired-eyed mothers slaving over oven-hot stoves in the blazing summers….
    Vane parked the car and turned his head. He said to the man lying under the afghan, “In two minutes you’ll wake up and drive to your home. You won’t remember anything that’s happened since I met you.”
    There was no answer. Vane emerged from the car and crossed the street, looking up at the twilit sky. Ramshackle tenements loomed all around. Tiny, grimy little shops were visible everywhere. Pushcarts were visible here and there. Vane entered a small grocery whose window bore the legend: Elite Grocery. A bell tinkled as he stepped across the threshold, looking around the gloomy interior. A glass showcase, filled with cheap candy, was at his left. The place looked just the same—like any other grocery in slumtown.
    A boy came from the back—a sallow, taffy-haired kid whose thin face was splashed with freckles. He stared at Vane.
    â€œSteve! Jez—” He whirled. “Pop! Hey! Steve’s here!”
    â€œEh? Who? What—” Uncle Tobe came into view. He looked like a gnome, except for his lack of beard. His face was brown and wrinkled as a walnut, and the faded blue eyes blinked at