The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps

And once he cut in quickly in his ramblings.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Who could help it?” I answered, for there had been an irritable note in his voice, and I rather liked it. So, I thought, there is a way to get under that skin of his. And with that thought I felt better. Funny. I encouraged him to talk now. “Why do you want me to visit you — and why should I?”

“Because I will interest you. As to your safety. If you were my most feared enemy, my home would be the safest spot for you in the whole city of New York. The police watch it occasionally. One policeman in particular. And I think, while I’m on the subject, I’ll tell you his name. It amuses me and helps establish my reputation, this interest in me. My life is an open book. The police see me come and go. But my mind is closed to all but myself. Silly, this following me about, watching my home. And how long do you think it would take me to stop it — have this busy-body removed from the Force? Just long enough to lift a phone and put a word in the ear of the right party. You might tell my shadow that. I believe you know him. His name is Detective Sergeant O’Rourke, an efficient officer. I should hate to see him removed from duty. You might tell him that, any day, I may grow tired of his attentions. And when that day comes, it will be too late for Sergeant O’Rourke. You see, it will be greatly to his advantage to grow tired of me before I grow tired of him.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell him when I see him, Doctor. This is your place?”

I was just a bit surprised. We had drawn up before one of the finest apartment houses on Park Avenue. No rendezvous of gangsters, this.

“You hardly expect hidden passageways here, and secret methods of disposing of bodies.” He smiled. “As to sub-cellars — well — my quarters are thirty-three stories above the street. There are thirty-two to the building.

“You are on the roof?” I asked.

“On the roof. One might fall off, of course. But even one with your love of violence can see the danger to me in that. Really, it is possible — but a man would have to be most desperate, and greatly in fear of — of you. No, no—” this as we walked into the spacious hall and entered an elevator. “Death must have its part in life, even in my life, Williams. But it must be smoothed over, and distant — seen, as I said, in the abstract. In plain words. If one annoys, it is better to have him removed through, shall I say — suggestion?”

We sped quickly to the roof, walked down a corridor. Gorgon stopped before a heavy door, waited several seconds, then placed a key in the lock and swung the door open. And as we walked across the wind-swept roof, beneath the brightness of the stars, toward that California bungalow, he chatted on.

“You see, Williams, why I might go a long way not to give all this up. The Italian emigrant has gone far in your city — risen perhaps by the customs your laws so agreeably set out for him. In your city — my city — a man first must banish conscience. Second, create a mind without a body, without emotions.”

We had crossed the roof now, passed under a canopy by the small trees between giant plants. There was real grass, clipped as smooth as a putting green, a tiny fountain, and the ripple of falling water against the slight night wind.

There were three steps of fancy brick and we were on the small porch. A single twist of the door knob — no waiting this time — and I followed Doctor Gorgon into a large, square hall.

He tossed his coat and stick onto a high backed chair, placed his hat upon them, and motioned me to do the same with my hat. But the night was not cold. I wasn’t sporting a top coat. My felt hat had cost me twelve bucks — I’d keep it with me. It wouldn’t be at all surprising if I had to leave the house of Michelle Gorgon in a hurry.

But he was persistent, and I wasn’t going to be small about it. I let him take the hat from me and place it on the chair.

“A social call, Williams — and let us hope, a friendly call. A hat upon your knee would break the illusion and savor distinctly of the law, the police, at least, as we know the police detective in books and plays. Come, I never keep the servants up. I have always felt rather mentally above the teeming millions of the city. This home of mine is perhaps the realization in a material way of my mental attitude. In here — we will be quite alone.”

He walked across the generous hall to a smaller hall, and across that narrow stretch through curtains, and stood aside for me to precede him, as he held a door open.