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    The Eyes Have It
    The Eyes Have It
    The Eyes Have It
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    The Eyes Have It

    By John Schoenherr and Randall Garrett

    4/5

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    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJul 1, 2010
    The Eyes Have It

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    Reviews for The Eyes Have It

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    • 4/5
      I first found Lord Darcy, who is our Sherlock Holmes in this series when I was in my teens, many years ago. I did not come to the series sequentially, but this the first story and once I began to discover Lord Darcy I then did read them in sequence.An empire of Brits where Richard the Lionhearted was not killed when returning from the Crusades. Fascinating. In typical Holmes fashion the clues are mostly in place, but here are a few leaps that you get to make, or that Garrett does as the author and takes us along to the conclusion. Conan Doyle does it also so you can not fault him for it. After the heroes of this and Holmes are so superior in mind to our own that they have to be able to solve these unsolvable crimes so that they emerge as heroes.The Eyes have it combines murder and magic to add that element to forensic science and makes the entirety that much more enjoyable and the ability to ensure that the criminal will be caught. Highly recommended.

    Book preview

    The Eyes Have It - John Schoenherr

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eyes Have It, by Gordon Randall Garrett

    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.org

    Title: The Eyes Have It

    Author: Gordon Randall Garrett

    Illustrator: John Schoenherr

    Release Date: January 2, 2010 [EBook #30833]

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EYES HAVE IT ***

    Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online

    Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

    Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction January 1964. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

    THE EYES HAVE IT

    In a sense, this is a story of here-and-now. This Earth, this year ... but on a history-line slipped slightly sidewise. A history in which a great man acted differently, and Magic, rather than physical science, was developed....

    RANDALL GARRETT

    Illustrated by John Schoenherr

    Sir Pierre Morlaix, Chevalier of the Angevin Empire, Knight of the Golden Leopard, and secretary-in-private to my lord, the Count D'Evreux, pushed back the lace at his cuff for a glance at his wrist watch—three minutes of seven. The Angelus had rung at six, as always, and my lord D'Evreux had been awakened by it, as always. At least, Sir Pierre could not remember any time in the past seventeen years when my lord had not awakened at the Angelus. Once, he recalled, the sacristan had failed to ring the bell, and the Count had been furious for a week. Only the intercession of Father Bright, backed by the Bishop himself, had saved the sacristan from doing a turn in the dungeons of Castle D'Evreux.

    Sir Pierre stepped out into the corridor, walked along the carpeted flagstones, and cast a practiced eye around him as he walked. These old castles were difficult to keep clean, and my lord the Count was fussy about nitre collecting in the seams between the stones of the walls. All appeared quite in order, which was a good thing. My lord the Count had been making a night of it last evening, and that always made him the more peevish in the morning. Though he always woke at the Angelus, he did not always wake up sober.

    Sir Pierre stopped before a heavy, polished, carved oak door, selected a key from one of the many at his belt, and turned it in the lock. Then he went into the elevator and the door locked automatically behind him. He pressed the switch and waited in patient silence as he was lifted up four floors to the Count's personal suite.

    By now, my lord the Count would have bathed, shaved, and dressed. He would also have poured down an eye-opener consisting of half a water glass of fine Champagne brandy. He would not eat breakfast until eight. The Count had no valet in the strict sense of the term. Sir Reginald Beauvay held that title, but he was never called upon to exercise the more personal functions of his office. The Count did not like to be seen until he was thoroughly presentable.

    The elevator stopped. Sir Pierre stepped out into the corridor and walked along it toward the door at the far end. At exactly seven o'clock, he rapped briskly on the great door which bore the gilt-and-polychrome arms of the House D'Evreux.

    For the first time in seventeen years, there was no answer.

    Sir Pierre waited for the growled command to enter for a full minute, unable to believe his ears. Then, almost timidly, he rapped again.

    There was still no answer.

    Then, bracing himself for the verbal onslaught that would follow if he had erred, Sir Pierre turned the handle and opened the door just as if he had heard the Count's voice telling him to come in.

    Good morning, my lord, he said, as he always had for seventeen years.

    But the room was empty, and there was no answer.

    He looked around the huge room. The morning sunlight streamed in through the high mullioned windows and spread a diamond-checkered pattern across the tapestry on the far wall, lighting up the brilliant hunting scene in a blaze of color.

    My lord?

    Nothing. Not a sound.

    The bedroom door was open. Sir Pierre walked across to it and looked in.

    He saw immediately why my lord the Count had not answered, and that, indeed, he would never answer again.

    My lord the Count lay flat on his back, his arms spread wide, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He was still clad in his gold and scarlet evening clothes. But the great stain on the front of his coat was not the same shade of scarlet as the rest of the cloth, and the stain had a bullet hole in its center.

    Sir Pierre looked at him without moving for a long moment. Then he stepped over, knelt, and touched one of the Count's hands with the back of his own. It was quite cool. He had been dead for hours.

    I knew someone would do you in sooner or later, my lord, said Sir Pierre, almost regretfully.

    Then he rose from his kneeling position and walked out without another look at his dead lord. He locked the door of the suite, pocketed the key, and went back downstairs

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