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Weird Tales

January 1954

after all, all he wanted was for his name to live forever!

A Very Special Quality

by David Lewis Eynon

I

"A GOOD year, 1937," the devil sighed appreciatively and held his champagne glass up to the light. In his dinner jacket and tartan cummerbund he looked as any of Drayton Foxx's guests might have looked. They couldn't have told the exact vintage of the champagne by taste alone, of course—but they would have known it was expensive. All Drayton's things were expensive.

"It's the best year," Foxx corrected. He said it flatly, a statement of fact, with no fear of contradiction. It didn't really matter to him, but he diked to have things straight. Nothing really mattered, much, anymore. At least, expense—which had formerly been his clue to excellence—didn't matter. It didn't give the satisfaction it once had.

"But of course," the Devil nodded and smiled. "It is the best year—so far. I was thinking of other years, years that haven't... been bottled," his bland smile apologized, "—as yet. In my position, one loses sight of the fact that you couldn't know the future...

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