Wild Jack Read Online Free Page B

was the evening of the party. I said, “Yes.”
    â€œWho else was present?”
    There seemed no point in not telling him. I reeled off the names I remembered. He nodded.
    â€œWhat were the subjects of conversation?”
    I began to feel wary. “I can’t remember.” I paused, but he waited for me to go on. “Well, all sorts of things. Football, boating . . . the new show at the Metrodome.”
    He nodded again. “And servants? And the savages?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t remember that.”
    â€œDon’t you? What a pity. Let’s see if we can do something about refreshing your memory. The part we’re interested in started with someone addressing a servant as ‘boy.’ Nothing unusual, but I gather you objected to it.”
    â€œNo! It was . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    I couldn’t say it was Brian who had objected. Quite obviously someone was taking all this more seriously than one would have thought, which meantin turn that someone might be in trouble. I wondered again about not seeing Brian in school this term. But the ridiculous thing was that I was being accused of saying it. Who could possibly have told them that? Brian himself? It didn’t make sense.
    I said, “It was a big party—twenty or more of us—and we were in the garden. I didn’t hear everything that was said. All I can tell you is that I didn’t make any objections to anything.”
    The policeman came forward in his chair, picked up his pad, and studied it. “You went on to give quite a little speech, it seems. Principally about the rights of servants. You said they were being treated as slaves and something ought to be done about that. The savages, as well. They had as much right to the benefits of the energy towers as we did. We ought to invite them into the cities—share and share alike.” He looked up at me. “You appear to hold very strong views for your age.”
    I was terribly confused. This was a potted and garbled version of Brian’s talk. Someone had informed on him to the police, at the same time twisting his words. But not on him, in fact—on me. I was the one being accused of it all.
    The brawny man said in a more reasonable tone, “You just tell us all about it. We’ll do what we can to make things easy for you.”
    It was ridiculous, but it was also starting to get worrying. The overwhelming majority of servants were contented and well-behaved. Very occasionally there would be one who caused trouble, most likely through some mental disturbance. Those who did were taken away by the police, to a hospital presumably. It was not a subject that interested me nor that I knew much about. Nothing like that had ever happened among our servants.
    But I realized that the police might hold the view that the sort of talk Brian had gone in for would have an unsettling effect on servants who happened to overhear it—and that therefore it was something that ought to be stopped. But although that seemed reasonable, it didn’t explain how I came into the picture. I hadn’t made any contribution at all to the conversation; yet clearly someone had told the police I had. Why?
    Or, equally important, who? Not Brian, certainly; he would have only been landing himself in trouble. Martin or Roland? But they, like Brian, were seniorto me in school, and I had had even less contact with them than with him. They had no reason to have a grudge against me.
    What was becoming obvious was that I needed help. I said, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Richie.”
    â€œYes.” The policeman nodded. “You’ll be able to do that. As soon as you’ve made a complete and proper statement to us.”
    â€œI’ve nothing to say.”
    He stared at me without speaking. The ginger-­haired one still did not say anything either but began rubbing his hands together in a slow twisting way which I