The Man With the Golden Eyes
"Believe me, it is."

"To my enemies?"

"No, not them alone. To your friends also—to all mankind."

"What kind of guff you handing me?"

"It is also important to you."

"Nothing's important to me." Lee's head began swimming. And he knew—without seeing it or being able to prove it—that Mr. Clifford had drugged the last one. He eyed Mr. Clifford's throat and tried to raise his hands. Impossible....

Mr. Clifford, a blurred figure spinning in a whirlpool said, "Important, Mr. Hayden, because I think you are now ready to see the man with the golden eyes."

"The ma-man—wha' silly nonsense—"

Lee Hayden passed out.

He awoke in softness. He opened his eyes and knew he was in bed. He was also aware of three other things—a horrible taste in his mouth—a splitting headache—and the fact he was not alone. He blinked and the form beside the bed sharpened from a blur and turned into a beautiful girl; a girl he felt he should know. Then he remembered. He had met her the previous night in the Lotus Room. She had been introduced to him as Daphne. She was still very beautiful; cool as a summer afternoon in the woods.

Though he had on completely adequate pajamas, Lee felt naked and ducked again behind his belligerence. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She regarded him with an almost childlike seriousness. "Mr. Clifford thought you ought not to be alone when you awakened."

"Very thoughtful of him since he was the guy who put me under. How long have you been here?"

"About two hours."

Filled with contempt for himself, Lee unconsciously used the device of redirecting it on the first handy person. Daphne was handy. His mouth twisted knowingly. "Sure you're not here for another reason?"

"What reason?"


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