"Richard Matheson - Hell House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matheson Richard)

3:50 P.M.


Anything else?" asked Hanley.
Barrett reviewed the items in his mind again. A list of all phenomena observed in the
Belasco house. Restoration of its electrical system. Installation of telephone service. The
swimming pool and steam room made available to him. Barrett had ignored the small man's frown at
the fourth item. A daily swim and steam bath were mandatory for him.
"One more item," he said. He tried to sound casual but felt that his excitement showed. "I
need a machine. I have the blueprints for it at my apartment."
"How soon will you need it?" Hanley asked.
"As soon as possible."
"Is it large?"
_Twelve years_, Barrett thought. "Quite large," he said.
"That's it?"
"All I can think of at the moment. I haven't mentioned living facilities, of course."
"Enough rooms have been renovated for your use. A couple from Caribou Falls will prepare
and deliver your meals." Hanley seemed about to smile. "They've refused to sleep in the house."
Barrett stood. "It's just as well. They'd only be in the way."
Hanley walked him toward the library door. Before they reached it, it was opened sharply
by a stout man, who glared at Barrett. Although he was forty years younger and a hundred pounds
heavier, William Reinhardt Deutsch bore an unmistakable resemblance to his father.
He shut the door. "I'm warning you right now," he said, "I'm going to block this thing."
Barrett stared at him.
"The truth," Deutsch said. "This is a waste of time, isn't it? Put it in writing, and I'll
make you out a check for a thousand dollars right now."
Barrett tightened. "I'm afraid--"
"There's no such thing as the supernatural, is there?" Deutsch's neck was reddening.
"Correct," said Barrett. Deutsch began to smile in triumph. "The word is '_supernormal_.'
Nature cannot be transcen--"
"What the hell's the difference?" interrupted Deutsch. "It's superstition, all of it!"
"I'm sorry, but it isn't." Barrett started past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
Deutsch caught his arm. "Now, _look_, you better drop this thing. I'll see you never get
that money--"
Barrett pulled his arm free. "Do what you will," he said. "I'll proceed until I hear
otherwise from your father."
He closed the door and started down the corridor. In light of present knowledge, his mind
addressed Deutsch, anyone who chooses to refer to psychic phenomena as superstition simply isn't
aware of what's going on in the world. The documentation is immense--
Barrett stopped and leaned against the wall. His leg was starting to ache again. For the
first time, he allowed himself to recognize what a strain on his condition it might be to spend a
week in the Belasco house.


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What if it was really as bad as the two accounts claimed it was?