By Henry (also wrote as Lewis Padgett) Kuttner
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I was thinking them, but they didn't have anything to do with me. The bastard's given me a Mickey. I hope to God it's only a Mickey. The pain kept me clamped jackknifed against the bar, and then there was a voice. "Got to get you out of here," I heard Gavotte say. "The hell with McElroy. " I heard his footsteps, and I put my hand against the bar and shoved hard. My legs remembered how to work by themselves; I wasn't telling them what to do. They carried me across the floor till I bounced off the wall.
She gave us a blank, absent stare that gradually cleared. Then she grinned. "It depends on the sanitarium," she said. "Personally, I got rather tired of crossword puzzles and counting the mesh in the window gratings. " She waited a moment, watching the Count, and still grinning. "Incidentally," she said, when he got out his cigarette case and opened it, "you notice I'm beginning to work crosswords again. I need a vacation. " "The riotous excitement of Phoenix tomorrow should refresh you," De Anza said.
Maybe I wasn't in the room, but the gun and I were real. The gun seemed a lot more real than either of the two De Anzas, just then. At last the Count held out the letters to me. I took them. He went back to working on the revolver. I glanced toward Mrs. De Anza. She wasn't paying any attention. " he asked. " "There isn't much to think over," I said. "A job means a salary. I could use a salary. " "Some jobs aren't worth the salary," he said, "and some salaries aren't worth the job. " "No doubt he wrote them himself," the Countess said unexpectedly.