The Sinful Ones by Fritz Leiber Read Free Book Online

Fountain is an obsession of mine. I always try to figure out, from the way the bowls the five sisters are holding pour into each other, which sister is which lake. And of course the fountain is nearest the southern lion.”
    “Did you walk down here tonight?” she asked.
    “Yes. And now I have questions for you. Who are those people you warned me against? That big, blonde, for instance. Why did you let her strike you without doing anything? What sort of hold do they have on you?”
    “I don’t want to talk about them.” Her voice was flat. “It’s something obscene and horrible and I don’t want to think about it at all.”
    “Are they after the small dark man with glasses too?”
    “I said I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not something you can do anything about. If you insist on talking about it, I don’t want to be with you.”
    Carr waited. A chillier gust was blowing across the steps and the girl hugged herself.
    “All right,” he said. “How about us getting a drink somewhere?”
    “If you’ll let me pick the place.”
    The last word made him think of Marcia. He quickly linked his arm through the girl’s and said, “Lead the way.”
    At the bottom of the steps he asked, “What’s your name?”
    “Jane.”
    “Jane what?”
    She shook her head.
    “Mine’s Carr. Two r’s.”
    They were half a block from the Art Institute when Carr asked, “What about your friend?”
    “I don’t think there’s much chance of his coming now.”
    They continued north. The wind and the gloom and the wide empty sidewalk seemed strange and lonely so close to the boulevard with its humming cars and its fringe of people and lights on the other side.
    Jane’s arm tightened a little on Carr’s. “This is fun,” she said. “I mean—having a date.”
    “I shouldn’t think you’d have any trouble,” he told her.
    They were opposite the public library. She led them across the boulevard. It seemed to Carr that the loneliness had followed them, for as they walked past the massive dark façade of the library, they met only two people—a galloping, bleak-faced boy and a shiffling old man in a checked cap and shabby overcoat.
    They squinted against blown grit. A sheet of newspaper flapped into their faces. Carr ripped it away and it swooped up into the air. They looked at each other and laughed. Carr took her hand and started across the next street, under the Elevated.
    He felt a sharp tug, heard Jane cry, “Look out!” He jumped back out of the path of a dark automobile gliding along without lights.
    “You should be more careful,” she said. “They can’t see us, you know.
    “Yes,” Carr agreed. “The street’s awfully dark here.”
    They walked on a short way. Jane suddenly turned down a cobbled alley chocked with fire escapes. A few steps more and Carr was startled to see the entrance to a little tavern. Steps led down to the sunken door.
    The place was dimly lit and almost empty. None of the booths were occupied. At the bar two men were contemplating half-empty glasses of beer. In the shadows were smoky old advertisements and pictures. Carr recognized one—a large print of Custer’s Last Stand.
    “What’ll you have?” he asked, heading for the bar.
    “Let’s wait a minute,” she said, steering him instead to the last booth, crowded in like an afterthought beside the swinging door to the kitchen, which was evidently not in use, since the little round window was dark. Neither the two drinkers nor the bartender looked up as they went past. The latter was a solemn and fat man, thoughtfully shaving the foam off a small glass of beer.
    Jane looked at Carr across the splotched table. Color had come into her cheeks and she was smiling, as if what they were doing was very wonderful. He found himself thinking of his college days, when there had been hip-flasks and roadsters, and checks from home, and classes to cut.
    “It’s funny,” he said, “I’ve gone past this alley a hundred times and never