New Detective February 1951 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: New Detective Magazine
Published: 1951-02-08T05:00:00+00:00

VERY HUMBLE, LOOKING down deprecatorily at the body he had so brilliantly sawn in two, and the red blood spurting from it.

But now he was more than a surgeon. He felt the breath surge hot and strong in him, the great breath of divinity, the sweep of almighty life.

Crouching, with glaring eyes, he looked around him in the shadows of the woodshed. His eyes lit on the spindle-legged rooster pecking at his feet. He reached down and swooped his hand at it. He had it by the neck. In his other hand he had seized up the axe. Holding the axe by shortened handle, he brought it down across the middle of that struggling, feathery body. With bubbles on his lips, with glaring eyes. He brought it down again, again, till there was only mangled blood and feathers mixed with the dirt upon the woodshed floor.

Crouching, axe in hand, he looked around him with burning eyes. He reached his hand into the straw-filled box, beneath the chicken-wire cover, where the two rabbits crouched and quivered. It was the brown-and-white one he got hold of first. It gave one rabbit shriek…

He stood in the welter of fur and feathers and bone, panting, trembling, looking towards the house. The kitchen was now alight. The kitchen door opened, and he saw the woman standing there, framed in the light.

She was calling out to him. “Come to supper! Beans and rhubarb pie!”

She was coming out towards him. For an instant a bolt of terror, a terror of discovery and retribution, shot through old Doc Hankler. He looked around him for escape, whimpering a little beneath his breath.

But then he remembered she was nice. Not like the other one, that white-faced. terrible, skinny old other one, who had been so tyrannical and mean to him. Who had scolded him so hard when he had had his excitement with those kittens. Who had made him go without desserts for a week. She had always been mad at him after he had had one of his lovely, beautiful. delirious times, even though he had denied to her that he had had them. She had told him that it was bad, bad, bad. She didn’t want to see him have a good time, ever. But this one was different. She liked fun too.

“Yoo-hoo, Doc! Supper!”

She was coming out towards him. He watched her, softly chittering to himself, crouched back in the darkness of the woodshed, holding his axe.

“Rhubarb pie, Doc!”

With her red lips, her plump figure. She was full of life. She was full of blood. She liked good times and excitement, too. She wouldn’t mind:

She would enjoy it, even. He would let her share all this excitement with him. He would initiate her into the delirious ecstasy. She was nearer now. She was there. Old Doc Hankler lifted up his axe in both his white, wiry arms as she stepped, with her searching crocodilian stare, into the dark shadows of the shed.

Ingeborde opened her mouth in one

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