The Essential Works of Henry Kuttner. Henry Kuttner

went somewhere with that agent," DeeDee said. "Or was that in the rushes too?"

      "But where, where, where?"

      "They went to Atlantis," DeeDee announced with an air of faint triumph.

      "No!" shouted St. Cyr. "That was the picture! The mermaid came from Atlantis, not Watt!"

      "Tolliver didn't say he was coming from Atlantis," DeeDee murmured, unruffled. "He said he was going to Atlantis. Then he was going to meet Nick Martin at his house tonight and give him his contract release."

      "When?" St. Cyr demanded furiously. "Think, DeeDee? What time did—"

      "DeeDee," Martin said, stepping forward with suave confidence, "you can't remember a thing, can you?" But DeeDee was too subnormal to react even to a Disraeli-matrix. She merely smiled placidly at him.

      "Out of my way, you writer!" roared St. Cyr, advancing upon Martin. "You will get no contract release! You do not waste St. Cyr's time and get away with it! This I will not endure. I fix you as I fixed Ed Cassidy!"

      Martin drew himself up and froze St. Cyr with an insolent smile. His hand toyed with an imaginary monocle. Golden periods were hanging at the end of his tongue. There only remained to hypnotize St. Cyr as he had hypnotized Watt. He drew a deep breath to unlease the floods of his eloquence—

      And St. Cyr, also too subhuman to be impressed by urbanity, hit Martin a clout on the jaw.

      It could never have happened in the British Parliament.