"Edmond Hamilton - The Sun Smasher" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Edmond)

Banning glared at the door, furious himself now because that faint edge of fear had sharpened and was
beginning to cut into him. Deep.

"Crazy,” he muttered. “Must be senile.” He looked again at the vacant lot, then at the big brick house
across the street. He started toward it. He remembered that house very well, and the people who had
lived in it. Their name was Lewis, and they had had a daughter too, and he had taken her to dances, and
picnics, and on hayrides. If they still lived here they would know what had happened.

"Lewises?” said the large, red-faced woman who answered his ring. “No, no Lewises here."

"Ten years ago,” he said desperately. “They were here then, and the Bannings lived where that vacant lot
is."

She stared. “I've lived here sixteen years myself, and before that I lived in that grey house three doors
down. I was born there. There were never any Lewises here or any Bannings either. And there wasn't
ever any house on that vacant lot."

She didn't say any more. Neither did Banning. He watched the door close. He lifted his hand to pound
on it, to break it down and get hold of the red-faced woman and make her explain who was crazy, or
lying, or what. Then he thought, this is ridiculous, letting them get me upset. There must be an explanation,
some reason for it. Maybe a property deal, maybe they're afraid I have some claim on my uncle's old
place. Maybe that's why they're lying to me, trying to make me believe I'm mistaken.

There was one place to find out for sure. One place where there was no chance of anybody lying. He
walked back, fast, to the main street, and up to the Court House.

He told the girl clerk what he wanted, and waited while she checked the records. She was not in any
hurry about it. Banning smoked nervously. He was sweating, and his hands shook a little.

The girl came back with a slip of paper. She seemed rather annoyed with him. “There's never been any
house at 344 Hollins,” she said. “Here's the record. The property—"

Banning grabbed the paper out of her hands. It said that Martin W. Wallace had purchased a house and
lot at 346 Hollins, together with the unimproved lot adjoining it, legal description as follows, from a
Walter Bergstrander in 1912. The lot was still unimproved.

Banning stopped sweating. He got cold. “Listen,” he said to the girl. “Look up these names in Vital
Statistics.” He scribbled them down for her. “In the death records, Jesse Banning and Ila Roberts
Banning.” He scribbled dates beside each one.

The girl took the list and flounced away with it. She was gone a long time. When she came back, she was
no longer annoyed. She was angry.

"Are you trying to be funny or something?” she demanded. “Wasting a person's time like this! There's no
record of any of those people.” She slammed the list down in front of Banning and turned away.

The wicket gate was just beside him. He pushed it open and went in. “Look again,” he said. “Please.
They're there. They have to be there."

"You're not allowed in here,” she told him, edging away. “What's the matter with you? I told you they're