248
PARTISAN REVIEW
"Yes, it happens occasionally that someone pretends to be one
of our agents. From your description, the man sounds like some–
body who has recently been going around posing as an Intelligence
Agent."
"Why should he do that?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know- for a variety of reasons," he answered.
"Don't you care? It must interfere with your work. Isn't
it
pos-
sible, also, that he might be an enemy agent?"
"Yes," he replied, after a moment's deliberation. "I guess so.
But there is very little we can do about it."
"Is there anything else I can do? You know I would like to find
out why this impostor chose me as
his
victim," I asked.
"I'm afraid not, unless he should come to see you again, which
is very unlikely.
If
he does, you should find some pretext to get to
the phone and call me immediately."
"Thank you," I said, and hung up, resigned to my own helpless–
ness.
I put on my red bathrobe, lit a cigarette, and sat back to think
things over.
This
is a habit I have cultivated to escape from my feel–
ings when they become too painful, and I sometimes find it more
relaxing than a nap. The truth is I am rather proud of having a
philosophical mind, and I like to uncover the universals and absolutes
that lie behind our experience. Before long I was boldly speculating
about the deepest mysteries of life and death. I thought of everything
that happens to us, and our helplessness before all that is dark and
uncertain. But I found myself constantly returning to the image of
the man who had barged in on me one sleepy afternoon, played the
part of Intelligence, then disappeared, leaving no trace of himself
and no impression on anyone but me. Who was he?
If
he was not an agent, why did he choose to question me? Of
course, he might just have stumbled on me-but why me? And how
did Miss Caruso fit in? Besides, I had only the assurance of Colonel
McCallister that he was an impostor. And what if Colonel McCallister
were mistaken? Perhaps my visitor represented some other branch of
Intelligence, which Colonel McCallister knew nothing about, and
therefore, resented. Colonel McCallister must have noticed how
agitated I was, and, like many other good men, he might have been
expressing his resentment of a rival agency by pacifying me. In fact,
