Read The Cosmic Puppets for Free Online Page B

difference.”
    Mary raised her dark eyes. “No, not so far. But I think he will.”
    “Really?”
    “I'm fairly sure. If—”
    “If what?” The bee was interested.
    Mary ignored it; she was deep in thought. “He's in a curious situation,” she murmured. “He's already faced with the fact that his memories don't agree with the situation.”
    “They don't?”
    “Of course not. He's become aware of major discrepancies. Essentially, he remembers a completely different town, with totally different people.” She killed another small spider that was moving cautiously up. For a time she studied its inert body. “And he's the kind of person who won't be satisfied until he understands the situation.”
    “He makes things confusing,” the bee complained.
    “For whom? For me?” Mary got up slowly and brushed grass from her jeans. “For Peter, perhaps. He's made so many careful plans.”
    The bee flew up from its leaf and landed on the girl's collar. “Perhaps he'll try to learn something from this man.”
    Mary laughed. “He'd like to, of course. But there's not much the man can tell him. He's so confused and uncertain.”
    “Peter will try. He's tireless, the way he explores every possibility for knowledge. Almost like a bee.”
    Mary agreed, as she walked back up the slope toward the cedars. “Yes, he's tireless, but a little too confident. He may wind up by doing himself more harm than good. In trying to find out things he may reveal more than he learns. The man, I think, is clever. And he must find out about himself. He'll probably come out ahead; that's been the pattern, so far.”
    Barton made sure no one was around. He stood close to the old-fashioned telephone, turned so he could look up and down the hall, at all the doors and the stairs at the far end, and then dropped a dime into the coin slot.
    “Number please,” the tinny voice said in his ear.
    He asked for the Calhoun Hotel in Martinsville. After three more dimes and a series of clicks and waits, there was a distant buzzing.
    “Calhoun Hotel,” a far-off voice came, a man's sleepy drawl.
    “Let me talk to Mrs Barton. In 204.”
    Another pause. More clicks. Then—
    “Ted!” Peg's voice, wild with impatience and alarm. “Is that you?”
    “It's me. I suppose.”
    “Where are you? In the name of heaven, are you going to just leave me here in this awful hotel?” Her voice rose in shrill hysteria. “Ted, I've had enough. I can't stand it anymore. You've got the car; I can't do anything, go anywhere, and you're acting like a crazy person!”
    Barton spoke close to the phone, voice muted. “I tried to explain it to you. This town. It's not what I remember. My mind's been tampered with, I think. Something I found in the newspaper office makes me sure even my identity isn't—”
    “Good God,” Peg cut in. “We haven't got time to waste looking up your childhood illusions! How long are you going to keep this up?”
    “I don't know,” Barton answered helplessly. “There's so much I don't understand. If I knew more I'd tell you.”
    There was a moment of silence. “Ted,” Peg said, with hard calm, “if you don't come back and get me in the next twenty-four hours, I'm leaving. I have enough money to get back up to Washington. You know I've got friends there. You won't see me again, except perhaps in court.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Yes.”
    Barton licked his lips. “Peg, I've got to stay here. I've learned a few things, not much, but a little. Enough to tell me I'm on the right track. If I stay here long enough I'll be able to crack this. Forces are operating here, powers that don't seem bound by—”
    There was a sharp click. Peg had hung up.
    Barton placed the receiver back on its hook. His mind was blank. He moved aimlessly away from the phone, hands in his pockets. Well, that was that. She meant it, every damn word. He'd show up in Martinsville, and she wouldn't be there.
    A small shape detached itself from behind a table and potted