"Unpleasant?" I said.
"About your parole," he said, with a haste I could not understand. "I suppose you know it wasn't strictly on the level."
I swallowed. Hard. "You mean there's some danger that…?"
"Now, don't get excited. I just thought I'd warn you that we are in a little hell when we face Myrtle Briscoe tomorrow morning. You know who she is. The State Commissioner of Corrections; also the head of the Parole Board."
"I know," I said. "I hope-"
"Myrtle would let you rot in hell before she'd parole you to me or any of my connections. Willingly. But Myrtle necessarily is sometimes absent from the capital, and, legally, the governor then becomes acting commissioner. He's legally the head of every department during the absence of its nominal head."
"But he's not supposed to use that power?"
"Not except in emergencies which I can't conceive as arising. It's a serious abridgment of democratic principles. Myrtle's elected- God knows how many times, incidentally-because the people like what she stands for. The governor, who's only in office to get as much as he can, gives them something else."
"What-" I swallowed again, "-what can she do, Doc?"
"I don't want to get you in an uproar, Pat. You seemed like such a cool-headed guy, I thought I could discuss things with you."
"You can," I said. "I'll keep my Sandstone shakes to myself."
"Well, there's nothing she can do. Nothing she will do. Oh, of course, she could go to the newspapers and throw her weight around generally, but the object lesson she'd give us wouldn't be worth the trouble. You're out now. Her tactic will be to take advantage of the fact."
"How can she do that?"
"More ways than I care to think about." He yawned, and eased himself from his chair. "That's my department, though. We'll hear some of them in the morning when we pay our courtesy call."
"Can't we-do we have to see her?" I said.
"Oh, yes. Any kind of delay would be very dangerous. Moreover, I imagine you'll have to see her every month during the term of your parole. I don't think she'd trust a case like you to a run-of-the-mill probation officer."
"Well," I said. "Forewarned, forearmed."
He chuckled and moved toward the door. "That's better. I'm glad to see I was right about you. A worrier could be very annoying."
"I understand," I said. "I'll try not to bother you."
"Well, don't get corked up. You'll need a lot of help in getting squared away and I'm glad to give it. I just don't want you upsetting yourself and me with senseless fretting."
We said goodnight.
I began to undress, wondering what made him tick, and why the ticks were as they were. It settled down to who he really was-the threatening, cold-eyed man who had bullied Burkman, or the man who had been angry over the pollution of a river and ashamed of being part of the general pattern of pollution.
Whichever was the case, one thing was certain: he was a considerable improvement over Warden Fish. Whatever happened to me, nothing could be worse than being back in Sandstone. I would be better off dead than there.
I went to sleep on that thought.
4
The little alarm clock at my bedside went off at seven, and after I had showered and was shaving, another white-jacketed Negro wheeled in a breakfast cart.
He introduced himself as Henry, and made a polite but reserved mention of the fact that he was Willie's brother. He was in and out of the room in five minutes, including the time it took to remove the silver covers from the dishes, fill my cup with coffee, and prop a morning paper against the pot.
I slipped into my clothes and sat down at the table.
Doc's cook, apparently, was as topnotch as his other servants. There were tiny hot biscuits; sectioned grapefruit packed in shaved ice; oatmeal cooked so that each flake was separate from the others; and a golden and puffy bacon omelet that was almost light enough to float.
Doc had me drive his sedan into town. I was a little reluctant to try it but he insisted, and it was easy enough after I got used to the steering-wheel gear shift.
I hadn't been in Capital City since my senior year in high school. At that time it had been a big sprawling town with a great many parks, clean wide streets, and modest, comfortable appearing homes. Now the streets were jammed and dirty; two and sometimes three shacks stood on a lot once occupied by a single neat cottage; and the parks were islands of oil well derricks, surrounded by barbed-wire fences. There were fine homes, certainly; some of them occupying an entire block with their wide, well-kept lawns. But they pointed up, rather than detracted from, the general picture of decay and squalor.
I put the car on a parking lot Doc directed me to, and we sat there several minutes while he turned through the paper. At last he folded it carelessly, tossed it into the back seat and took out his wallet.
"Here's forty dollars, Pat. It'll give you something to rattle until payday."
"I-"
"I know. You're grateful. And you hope to show your appreciation. And if I see an opportunity for you to do so, for this or any other favor, past or impending, I'll let you know. Anything else?"
"I was going to thank you," I said, "but I guess I'd better not."
"You just have. Now let's see about some clothes."
We crossed the street and walked up to the corner where he led me to the entrance of a store.
A tall gray-haired man in a black coat and striped pants strolled out to us.
"Ah, Doctor," he said. "I hope we're to be allowed to serve you in some way?"
Doc shook hands with him indifferently. "I think I'll let you take care of my friend," he said. "This is Mr. Cosgrove, Williams."
"It will be a pleasure," Williams beamed, giving my hand a tender shake. He didn't seem to notice my clothes.
"Mr. Cosgrove has been ill for a long time," Doc went on. "He'll need a complete outfitting, but we have an appointment within the hour. Can you fix him up in something casual immediately, and get his measurements for a couple of suits and whatever he needs in the way of accessories? Send it out to the house later."
"Certainly," said Williams. "We'll be very prompt with Mr. Cosgrove. Now, if I may show you inside…"
Doc hesitated a moment, studying a tweed sports coat. He half turned and started to enter the store, then he glanced across the street. He stiffened.
"I won't be able to go in," he said quickly. "Meet me at the car when you're through, Pat. Williams, I'm putting Mr. Cosgrove in your hands."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"He'll use my account."
"Of course, Doctor. If you please, Mr. Cosgrove."
Doc swung off across the street, moving in quick angry strides. I let Williams lead me into the store.
The next thirty minutes were like a comedy. Shoes were being slid on and off my feet while my shoulders were draped and undraped with coats. I tried on trousers while hats were being placed on my head. A swarm of frock-coated salesmen moved around me with coats, pants, ties and shirts, hats and shoes. And Williams said "Quite," and "Exactly," and "I'm afraid not."