Miss Simmons got more rigid. Then she threw her arms and legs wide. She arched her back. Her hands impatiently ripped the robe even further away so she was totally uncovered. "Ah, ah... the mud... so beautiful... so dirty... ah... MORE!... MORE!" Her back was arched like a bow.
Some clothing on a hanger began to dance. "Mumble... mumble," panted Miss Simmons.
"My word," said the startled Countess Krak.
The clothes blew off the hanger with the violence of Miss Simmons' scream.
The Countess Krak stared at her, stunned.
Miss Simmons was now lying there, spent, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.
The Countess Krak raised the microphone up. But she didn't get a chance to say anything. "Now YOU!" cried Miss Simmons.
Both Miss Simmons' feet rose into the air and began to kick jerkily. "Mumble... mumble... mumble."
The items on the makeup bureau began to jump and quiver.
"Good Lords," said the Countess Krak.
"NOW!" screamed Miss Simmons. "NOW! NOW! NOW!"
The makeup bureau implements cascaded to the floor, battered by Miss Simmons' piercing screech.
Then Miss Simmons was lying there, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, panting.
The Countess Krak raised the microphone to speak. She didn't get a chance. "Two, two, two!" cried Miss Simmons. "Both... mumble... mumble... GOT TO!"
Miss Simmons was sitting up. She began to bounce up and down on the bed.
The Countess Krak was watching her, very puzzled.
A piece of plaster in the ceiling began to shake and splinter.
"Yowee!" cried Miss Simmons.
A piercing scream hit the plaster and it came crashing down.
Miss Simmons was lying back again, tongue lolling.
The Countess Krak raised her microphone once more. "Miss Simmons," she said, "I think..."
Miss Simmons was now on her hands and knees. "Oh, no!" she shouted, "Don't do that! AHHHH!"
A floor lamp beside the chair of the Countess Krak began to dance. She put out an alarmed hand to steady it. The lamp just jiggled worse.
"MORE! MORE! MORE!" cried Miss Simmons.
The closet door slammed shut as she let out a piercing scream.
Miss Simmons was lying there again with her tongue lolling out, panting.
The Countess Krak looked relieved. She composed herself and, in a business-like way, once more raised the microphone to speak. But the voice of Miss Simmons interrupted her, "Now three!"
Miss Simmons had a pillow. She was tearing at it. She got it under her, then turned over and seized it. "Mumble... mumble... mumble!" she said.
The floor lamp again began to rock.
Miss Simmons' hand tore a wad of feathers from the pillow.
The Countess Krak stared. She couldn't make it out.
Miss Simmons' housecoat flew up into the air. "Mmm! Mmm! Mmm! Yippeee!" she cried.
Then Miss Simmons was lying there again, panting.
The Countess Krak retrieved the housecoat and then stood staring. In a perfectly natural voice, Miss Simmons was saying, "We will now take up page 92 of Krafft-Ebing. I am certain that your psychology teacher called it to your attention. Six of you form a ring. The other two..."
The lamp had begun to rock. The Countess Krak grabbed it to keep it from falling down.
"Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!" crooned Miss Simmons.
Suddenly the spilled makeup implements on the floor bounced as a shuddering shriek came from Miss Simmons.
The whole pillow-load of feathers shot into the air.
The Countess Krak tried to bat the flying feathers off her face.
The floor lamp came down with a splintering crash.
Miss Simmons lay back, relaxed, smiling under the helmet. She was drenched with sweat and so was the bed around her. She looked totally exhausted. She stretched lazily.
The Countess Krak shook her head. In Voltarian she muttered, "Well, I hope she got her fill! The slut!" Then she raised her microphone and said in English, "The men are all going away now. They are waving good-bye.
You see them walk up the trail and vanish. They were all very happy. Are you happy?"
"Oh, yes," came the muffled voice of Miss Simmons from the helmet.
"Anything worrying you?"
"I'm nice and lovely dirty with the mud. But my leg feels a little strange."
"You broke it dancing for joy," said the Countess Krak.
"Oh, that's all right, then."
The Countess Krak now took a firm grip on her microphone. She said, "The incident you have just been through is the right one, the correct one, the one that happened. All other memories of that time and place are false and are gone. You have just been through the true one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Miss Simmons.
At that instant there were some shouts and car-door slams outside.
Somebody shouted, "Get up there to Apartment 21!"
I tingled! Grafferty!
The Countess Krak said into the microphone, "You will lie there and think of nothing until I come back."
She put down the microphone, stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Doctor Kutzbrain was still standing like an awkward statue.
Feet were pounding up the stairs.
The crash of a boot against the apartment door!
Lock flying into fragments, the door smashed open.
Grafferty and three policemen sprang into the room!
Grafferty stared at the immobile Doctor Kutzbrain. "Where's the rape-murder?" he roared.
The Countess Krak had reached the black bag. She hit the dynamo plunger, turning it off. But she drew out a small object that looked like a thumbtack. I caught the briefest glimpse of the tag on it.
Doctor Kutzbrain went into motion, drawing all eyes.
The Countess Krak stepped across the room to him. She had that tack held in her fingers. She grabbed Kutzbrain by the shoulder with that same hand. At the instant of contact, Kutzbrain let out a yell.
Krak said, "If it's a rapist you're looking for, here's your man!" She stood away.
Grafferty shouted at Kutzbrain, "Where's the murder?"
Doctor Kutzbrain inhaled a lung full of air. He shouted, "I hate you! I'll tear you to bits! Answer me!"
Oh, Gods, that (bleeped) Krak had used an interrogator dart on him, the one that made a questioner so furious and overwrought he could not ask sensible questions!
Grafferty waved a gun. He roared, "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to police that way?"
Kutzbrain shouted, "You must answer up! I'll kill you if you don't! I'll tear you to bits!"
Grafferty signalled to two policemen. "Take him along, men. And bring this girl as a material witness. And you," he said to the third cop, "look around here and make sure there isn't a corpse in one of these rooms. We need evidence!"
Krak said, "I've got the evidence. It's right here!"
She reached into the black case and tore four tabs off the black roll.
She reached out her hand to Grafferty and the cops, using a magician's forcer gesture, the way they make people feel they have to grab something.
They each took a tab, looking at it.
The Countess Krak pushed the dynamo plunger.
Grafferty and the three cops went into rigid statue stances!
So did Kutzbrain!!
Krak went over and closed the apartment door and put the chain on it.
She stood back and inspected the five statues. They were unseeing, paralyzed into awkward stances.
The Countess Krak went back into the bedroom.
She neatly covered up the naked body of Miss Simmons again. She picked up the microphone and sat down in the chair.
Miss Simmons was sprawled out, relaxed and smiling under the helmet.
"Now," said the Countess Krak, "we will take up how you really feel about Wister. You know you are not good enough for him. But you are eternally grateful to him for not having you himself but letting you be raped. Your gratitude amounts to the worship you would give a saint and you know you would defile him if he so much as touched your body parts. You understand that, don't you?"