Circus

Alan Nourse

Circus, by Alan Edward Nourse

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Circus, by Alan Edward Nourse This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Circus
Author: Alan Edward Nourse
Release Date: October 3, 2007 [EBook #22875]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CIRCUS ***

Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from The Counterfeit Man More Science Fiction Stories by Alan E. Nourse published in 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.

Circus

"Just suppose," said Morgan, "that I did believe you. Just for argument." He glanced up at the man across the restaurant table. "Where would we go from here?"
The man shifted uneasily in his seat. He was silent, staring down at his plate. Not a strange-looking man, Morgan thought. Rather ordinary, in fact. A plain face, nose a little too long, fingers a little too dainty, a suit that doesn't quite seem to fit, but all in all, a perfectly ordinary looking man.
Maybe too ordinary, Morgan thought.
Finally the man looked up. His eyes were dark, with a hunted look in their depths that chilled Morgan a little. "Where do we go? I don't know. I've tried to think it out, and I get nowhere. But you've got to believe me, Morgan. I'm lost, I mean it. If I can't get help, I don't know where it's going to end."
"I'll tell you where it's going to end," said Morgan. "It's going to end in a hospital. A mental hospital. They'll lock you up and they'll lose the key somewhere." He poured himself another cup of coffee and sipped it, scalding hot. "And that," he added, "will be that."
* * * * *
The place was dark and almost empty. Overhead, a rotary fan swished patiently. The man across from Morgan ran a hand through his dark hair. "There must be some other way," he said. "There has to be."
"All right, let's start from the beginning again," Morgan said. "Maybe we can pin something down a little better. You say your name is Parks--right?"
The man nodded. "Jefferson Haldeman Parks, if that helps any. Haldeman was my mother's maiden name."
"All right. And you got into town on Friday--right?"
Parks nodded.
"Fine. Now go through the whole story again. What happened first?"
The man thought for a minute. "As I said, first there was a fall. About twenty feet. I didn't break any bones, but I was shaken up and limping. The fall was near the highway going to the George Washington Bridge. I got over to the highway and tried to flag down a ride."
"How did you feel? I mean, was there anything strange that you noticed?"
"Strange!" Parks' eyes widened. "I--I was speechless. At first I hadn't noticed too much--I was concerned with the fall, and whether I was hurt or not. I didn't really think about much else until I hobbled up to that highway and saw those cars coming. Then I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought I was crazy. But a car stopped and asked me if I was going into the city, and I knew I wasn't crazy."
Morgan's mouth took a grim line. "You understood the language?"
"Oh, yes. I don't see how I could have, but I did. We talked all the way into New York--nothing very important, but we understood each other. His speech had an odd sound, but--"
Morgan nodded. "I know, I noticed. What did you do when you got to New York?"
"Well, obviously, I needed money. I had gold coin. There had been no way of knowing if it would be useful, but I'd taken it on chance. I tried to use it at a newsstand first, and the man wouldn't touch it. Asked me if I thought I was the U.S. Treasury or something. When he saw that I was serious, he sent me to a money lender, a hock shop, I think he called it. So I found a place--"
"Let me see the coins."
Parks dropped two small gold discs on the table. They were perfectly smooth and perfectly round, tapered by wear to a thin blunt edge. There was no design on them, and no printing. Morgan looked up at the man sharply. "What did you get for these?"
Parks shrugged. "Too little, I suspect. Two dollars for the small one, five for the larger."
"You should have gone to a bank."
"I know that now. I didn't then. Naturally, I assumed that with everything else so similar, principles of business would also be
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