When Mudgett spoke, the people of Harlowe found that the man before them was no longer an old schoolmate or neighbor, but a tough vice-squad cop—anonymous, steely, professionally mean—a figure familiar to everyone from the late movie reruns.
“The Harlowe Police Department has called this special town meeting because there’s an arsonist loose in this town,” he began in correct, snarling, radio-announcer English, his usual quick tenor speech lost entirely. “Well, we’re planning to catch him, but we need your help.”
John crossed and uncrossed his legs uncomfortably, and Mim glanced sideways at him in a warning to be still.
“For a start,” Mudgett said, “you’ve got to stop wandering around at night. That way everyone can sleep safe—at least everyone who doesn’t happen to be on the police force. If we find anybody more than fifty yards from home after dark, we’re going to assume he’s up to no good. Until we stop these fires, you’re not going to be in any mood for partying anyhow. So just stay home after sunset. We’ll send someone round every night to make sure you all got home all right.”
Mudgett chewed on his gum for a moment and glanced around the room, touching only on the familiar faces of his fellow deputies. “The other thing we’re going to do is keep track of the people coming in and out of Harlowe. We’re going to put roadblocks on the seven roads out of Harlowe. So try to stay in Harlowe. If you really have to go somewhere, give us a call and we’ll be expecting you.” He paused. “Can’t think why you need to go anywhere though. Linden’s got most everything a body needs.” Mudgett waited as if he expected some response.
There was none. The people in the hall barely stirred.
“So that’s the deal,” he said, almost lapsing into his normal voice. “And just to show we mean business, Perly’s got a gift for the town. So, uh...” Mudgett scowled at Perly.
Perly stood and side-stepped out along the row, excusing himself to the people he moved past. Wearing his everyday green work clothes, he climbed the stairs up to the stage, with Dixie trotting prettily at his heel. He took over Mudgett’s place in the center of the stage, and Dixie traced out a circle beside him and lay down with a sigh. Mudgett moved over and stood in the lee of the American flag. Perly frowned as he squinted out over the people.
“Some of you have sunk so low, you’ve been setting fire to your own town,” Perly announced sternly, his voice cutting through the stillness in the hall and making everyone sit up a little straighter. Perly looked out into the watching faces, absorbing their expressions as if the proper degree of guilt would register by setting off an alarm in his head.
“Isn’t that right, Paul?” he said.
Paul Geness let the child in his lap slide to the floor. He squinted up at Perly with his close-set brown eyes. Geness had eleven children. He managed by looking after the town dump and salvaging what other people threw away.
“I said, ‘Isn’t that right, Paul?’ ”
Geness opened his mouth but didn’t answer.
“I know it hasn’t been easy,” Perly cried. “But we’re undergoing the fastest change in the history of civilization. All I want to do is harness that change. Make it work for all of us. And I pride myself I’ve made a beginning. A fine beginning.” Perly raised his fist and slammed it down into his other hand. “But since when have the people of Harlowe been so fond of their creature comforts? Since when have the people of Harlowe been afraid of a little hard work? Since when?”
Perly’s voice grew louder and deeper. “A few have even run away. Well, damn it, if they’re that low-minded, we don’t want them. Do we, Frank?” he asked, pointing a strong brown finger at Frank Lovelace, a stocky man who had been a fairly efficient truck farmer before the auctions.
Lovelace was not a talkative man, and now he shifted in his chair, tightened his lips, and swallowed.
“And now this madness,” the auctioneer cried, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. “This insanity. This lunacy.” He shook his head as if to rid himself of his vision, then looked out over the people with an intensity that made them turn away from him.
He pulled a sheaf of bills from his shirt pocket. “Well, here’s three thousand dollars,” he said. He held the bills high so that everyone could see that they were hundred-dollar bills. “Three thousand dollars,” he repeated, playing his eyes over the crowd. “Anyone gone by your place at an odd hour? Anyone smelling of gasoline lately? Anyone in your house acting peculiar this last week?”
Perly focused on a heavily made-up woman sitting next to her husband, who had recently had a leg amputated after falling under his tractor. “What do you say, Jane Collins? Do you know anyone sleeping all day?” he asked. “Do you?”
She dropped her eyes and shook her head. Her husband gripped his crutches and looked at the chair in front of him.
“Let us know,” Perly said, his voice low and smooth. “We’ll pay cash and we’ll pay in secret. Trust us.” He snapped the elastic band back around the bills and returned them to his pocket so that the figure “100” poked out with its elegant elongated zeros. “Does anyone have any questions?” Perly asked.
No one made any noticeable move, but no one was quite still either, and the stiff folding chairs gave off a sound like radio static.
“Well, then, we ask you for your own protection to get right on home. The deputies will be making rounds in about half an hour to make sure you all arrive safely.”
The people of Harlowe sat in their chairs as though they had not heard their dismissal.
“Good night,” Perly said more gently. “We’re all in this together. Let’s try to remember Harlowe’s heritage of strength and courage. We’ll make a new beginning yet.”
Perly started off the stage, and very slowly the people in the hall began to pull their coats around their shoulders and stand up.
“Hey there, young fellow,” said a voice from behind the Moores. “Them proposals you’re makin’. They supposed to be laws or what? It was Sam Parry. His sky-blue eyes were as piercing as ever, but he was less ruddy than usual after taking a bullet in the shoulder during hunting season. “We goin’ to get a chance to vote on them new rules?”
Perly paused and smiled a moment at Sam before he returned to the center of the stage. “Vote, Sam?” he said. “Who could possibly object? Simple temporary regulations for the protection of all of us. But, of course, if you think we should take a vote, let’s take a vote. Perly looked out at the townspeople as though they were co-conspirators. “Why not?” he said. “All in favor, say ‘Aye.’ ”
There was a pause, then Ian James shouted a throaty aye and there were scattered echoes around the room.
“All opposed, say ‘Nay.’ ”
There was silence in the room.
“Sam?” Perly said at last, raising an eyebrow in challenge to the old man.
“Well, I’m opposed,” Sam said abruptly and sat down.
After a pause, Ma lifted her cane high and pointed it unsteadily at Perly. “I’d just like to know why it’s you, Mr. Perly Dunsmore, that wants so bad to catch that firebug,” she cried, her voice harsh with effort. “Ain’t nobody set fire to your house.”
Fanny Linden, sitting in front of the Moores, ducked to avoid the cane, and Mim grabbed at it and lowered it to the floor against Ma’s struggles.
“Mrs. Moore,” Perly cried, his hard face twisted, “how can you ask? Harlowe is my town. You were here and never had a choice, but I chose Harlowe. After twenty years in forty different countries, I chose Harlowe to be my home. And to a bachelor like me, a community is mother, father, son, and daughter. Its my family.”
Dixie turned nervously at Perly’s side, but Perly stood easily. “Now I know what’s going on in the world. And if you turn on your television set at night, almost any night, you can see too. You see a picture of young America—usually violence, rebellion, shouting obscenities. This is the new wave. These things are happening everywhere. But Harlowe—Harlowe is hanging on to the old ways. And now this quality of life—this treasuring of human values—is in danger. Nothing can be the same with everyone living in terror of his neighbors. And, if a place isn’t good for my neighbors, it’s not going to be good for me either. That’s why I care, Mrs. Moore. I can’t think of a better use for my money than to save our community.”