"Oh, blast, blast those Russians!" said Heller. "The girls will be SO disappointed after all their hard work!"
"What girls?" said the Countess Krak, very alert.
"And there goes any chance I had with Miss Simmons!" said Heller. "Confound those Russians!"
The Countess Krak said, very loudly, "WHO is Miss Simmons?"
Heller came out of it. He looked at the Countess. "What?"
"I said, 'WHO is Miss Simmons?'"
"My teacher in Nature Appreciation. That's the class I have to personally attend each Sunday."
"Oh, is that what you have been doing Sundays? I notice that you use the words 'have to attend.' However, I have been told personally by Izzy that you are going to the university just wonderfully and all without attending any classes whatever. Bang-Bang tells me that you are just doing splendidly in the ROTC, and yet you don't have to attend any drills or ROTC classes. Now, WHY, Jettero, do you have to attend the Sunday class of this Miss Simmons?"
Heller said, "She forced me into it."
The Countess Krak said, "Jettero, I can understand completely why she is infatuated with you, but I cannot for the life of me see why you are infatuated with her."
"I'M NOT!"
"Jettero, you need not be defensive. You are not being accused of anything. I just want to know why you are infatuated with her."
"I HATE the hussy!" said Heller.
"Oh," said the Countess Krak, "be very careful of hate. The poet says it is the closest neighbor of love."
"Oh, Gods, he didn't know Miss Simmons! Listen, that woman is working day and night to wreck my plans. She is not only going to fail me, she is tearing around demanding that others flunk me!"
"Jettero," said the Countess Krak, "maybe you had better tell me about this very exactly."
Heller told her about needing a diploma so people would listen to him and how Miss Simmons hated nuclear physicists and had forced him to take an optional on Nature Appreciation, which she herself taught. Then he drew a long breath and told her in detail about following her into Van Cortlandt Park, finishing off the attackers and taking Miss Simmons to the hospital. And how, in the new term, they had released her from the psychiatric ward so she could resume teaching.
The Countess Krak nodded gravely. "I understand it completely now. She walked into that park well knowing there were unscrupulous men about and lured you after her. She is the kind of woman who craves to be raped. Oh, I am afraid this has gone far enough, Jettero. I knew all the beautiful women on this planet would be after you and I now know that my worst fears have been realized. I could forgive that Miss America thing, but this has gone on and on right under my nose every Sunday."
"Please," begged Heller. "If I take you to the theater and buy you a dozen roses and get up first every morning for a week and get the room warm, will you, in return, stop talking about Miss Simmons?"
"Hmm," said the Countess Krak. She got up and went into the secretary boudoir.
She paced up and down. Then she suddenly sat on the edge of the couch and punched a button and had Mamie on the phone promptly.
"Mamie," she said, "it has happened. I've got to have your advice."
"Certainly, dearie. You just tell Mama Mamie."
"He is so disturbed that I am absolutely certain he has become infatuated with another woman and it may hold him on this planet. We are not married yet. I MUST get him away. What should I do?"
"Scratch her eyes out," said Mamie, promptly.
"Hmm," said the Countess Krak. "Well, thank you. I was just checking to see how it was done on this planet. How is business?"
"Just fine, dear. Now that my name is up in lights, we're playing to a full house every night. Don't you worry your pretty head about this place, dear. I've got these stage-door Johnnies shovelling out the diamonds like a rainstorm. That's a mighty cute sailor you got there. You just get that (bleepch) under your fingernails and rip away. And give her a kick in the slats for me. Never let a good man get away, dear. They're (bleeped) hard to find!"
I went into alarm. This was not coming out the way I had expected. And although I had always suspected that when women talked privately together they plotted things, I had never understood their conversation was that bloodthirsty.
Oh, I would have to watch this carefully.
And then I experienced a surge of hope. Maybe I could get the Countess Krak for murder!
She was on the phone again. She got the number of Empire University and asked for Miss Simmons.
Of course they didn't know which "Miss Simmons" amongst all their 18,005 students and 5,002 faculty. The young man said so with some asperity.
"This is a life-and-death matter about one of her students," said the Countess.
"Then she must be a teacher," said the young man's voice. "What does she teach?"
"Nature Appreciation," said Krak.
"Wait a minute, please." Then he came back on the line. "You must mean Jane Simmons, Ph.D., D.Ed., Teachers College. She teaches Nature Appreciation 101 and 104 also."
"Does she have a student named Jerome Terrance Wister?"
"Thank God for computers. Yes, ma'am. But it says here that she's recommending he be expelled."
"Dangerous stuff, hate," said the Countess.
"I beg pardon?"
"I said, what is her home address so I can advise the next of kin?"
"It's that bad, is it?" said the young man. And he gave it to her very promptly. It was in Morningside Heights.
The Countess Krak opened up the wardrobe. She looked over her clothes. She chose a scarlet suit with an enormous pearl button holding the jacket closed. She got out some red gloves and red Moroccan leather boots.
Murder. She obviously planned murder!
Over it all she draped a black sable short cape. That confirmed it. She looked just like an assassin pilot to me. Visions of her red heels stamping that yellow-man into the floor back at Spiteos swam around me. Frantically, I wondered what I could do.
The sickening realization that I was about to lose an ally made me feel faint. And I had so carefully prepared it all, too.
Then I realized I could call my friend Police Inspector Bulldog Grafferty. I knew where the murder would occur. Maybe I could get her walked in on red-handed, with the corpse of Miss Simmons still quivering in its pools of mangled blood.
The Countess then got down a shopping case, a black plastic one, of a kind that had lately come in fashion. She grabbed several items off a shelf so quickly I could not see what they were. And then she did a thing which shot my alarm right up to fascinated horror.