The Black Throne

"Surely," I said. "I was pla

He repaired to a small writing table where he scribbled and drew these items.

"If you're pla

"Excellent," I said, as he saw us to the door. "We'll be back aboard ship in a few hours. Thank you again."

"No problem," he replied. "By the way, might I have the loan of twenty francs till then?"

"Of course," I said, removing a note from one of the rolls of bills I had found in Ellison's safe and passing it to him.

"Pay you later," he said.

"Nevermore," said the raven, as the door closed behind us.

That evening, dressed warmly against a chilly wind, Peters and I set out to find Von Kempelen's place.

In that Peters was unwilling to do without Emerson's skills in the event of an emergency, the ape followed us along the way. The people of the city were generally unaware of his passage over their rooftops in the darkness. The dogs of Paris did, however, take notice. Their barks and howls followed us from street to street.

Peters whistled as we walked along, at one point laughing maniacally when the dogs broke into a particularly wild cacophony, causing a woman who passed us just then to cross herself and hurry away.

At length, we found ourselves in the proper neighborhood, and there was indeed a light burning behind the top floor window which seemed to belong to the apartment we sought, a building bearing the legend Porte D'Eau.

"You think he'd do himself better'n a bloody garret," Peters muttered, "bein' worth a fortune an' all."

"He's trying to be inconspicuous," I said.

"He could do it at ground level," he growled.

Firing a quick phrase of his gutter French at the concierge who answered his pounding, Peters had us admitted by a frightened-looking man who stared out to where a ring of dogs had formed at our back in the street.

"Porquoi les chiens aboient-ils?" he asked.

"Je suis loup-garou," Peters replied. "Je veux Von Kempelen."

The man stared, then Peters laughed his crazy laugh again. Smiling weakly, the concierge got out of our way.

"Trois?" Peters asked.

"Oui."

"Merci," I said, not to be outdone, and we mounted the stair.

All the way up to the top we went, then knocked upon his door. There was no answer. We waited a few moments then tried again.

The third time I called out as I knocked, "Von Kempelen! It's important, and I think you'd be interested.

It would certainly be worth your while."

The door opened a crack and a large blue eye regarded us.

"Ja?" asked its owner.

"We're Americans," I said, "and I believe you are the creator of the famous chess-playing automaton."

"And so?" he said. "If I am, what then?"

I produced a wad of Yankee dollars—again, courtesy of Ellison's safe—and waved them at him.

"I'm a representative of the Baltimore Chess Club," I said. "I'd like to bet you a thousand dollars I can beat that machine of yours."

The door opened further, so that we beheld a short, stout man with sandy hair and whiskers, wide mouth, Roman nose, and large, protuberant eyes, of a sort I had once been told were associated with a peculiar glandular condition. Half of his face was lathered, and I saw that he held a straight razor in his hand.

"Gentlemen, I am sorry," he said, "but the machine is not properly set up at this time."

"Dear me," I responded. "It meant so much to the entire club that one of us get to try it. How long would it take to set it up? Do you think if I were to come up with more money—"

Suddenly, he opened the door wide, apparently having made some decision concerning us.

"Come in, come in," he said, and we did. He gestured toward a battered pair of chairs across the room.

"Sit down. I am making some tea. You may join me, if you wish."

"Thanks," I said, moving that way as he lay the razor beside a basin on his dresser, picked up a towel and wiped the soap from his face, watching us the while in a cracked mirror as we passed behind him to the chairs. A pot of water was coming to a boil upon a small spirit-heater on a crate to our left. There were numerous crates stacked about the room, some of them opened and exhibiting odd pieces of chemical or alchemical equipment. Some of it had been unpacked and was set up upon a bench which ran the length of the far wall. Some pieces were installed beneath the bench.

Outside, the dogs continued their chorus.

Von Kempelen located three mismatched cups within one of the crates, wiped them out with the towel he had used upon his face and proceeded to prepare tea.

"It would take several days' preparation," he said, "to assemble the automaton and get it ready for a game—if I had nothing better to do. But I am expecting a request to engage in some delicate work soon, of a fairly complicated nature. I fear that I simply will not have the time to give you your match, as much as I would enjoy taking your money. Do you take sugar? Or perhaps a little cream?"

"Sugar," I said.

"Neat," said Peters.

He brought us two steaming cups, seated himself across from us with a third.

"I'm afraid I can't do any better than that," he finished.

"I understand," I said. "My fellow clubmen will be disappointed, also. But your business certainly takes precedence over hobbies." I glanced at the equipment on the bench. "You're basically a chemist, aren't you?"

Those impressive eyes studied my face carefully.

"I do many things," he said, "chemistry among them. Right now I am waiting to hear on a possible contract which will occupy me for some time, should it be approved. I may not discuss it, however."

"Didn't mean to pry," I said, tasting the tea. "Perhaps I'll get to try the chess player another day."

"Perhaps so," he agreed. "When did you arrive in town?"

"Just this morning," I said.

"Surely you didn't cross the ocean just to seek me out and engage in an unusual game?"

I laughed.

"No, I came into some money recently," I said, "and I'd always wanted to tour the Continent. When I learned earlier that you were in town I decided to look you up and add pleasure to pleasure, so to speak."

"How interesting," he said. "So few people are aware of my presence here."

Griswold or some French bureaucrat? I wondered. Where should I claim having heard he was in town?

Blame the French government, I decided. There's ample precedent for that in all areas. But the decision was taken from me as the rear window was shattered.

A burly form finished kicking in the frame then stepped into the room from the pitched edge of the adjacent building. Damn! The timing was way off. I'd wanted at least to broach the subject before the attack occurred.

Another figure, leaner but appropriately villainous in appearance entered behind the burly man. I could see that there was yet another behind him. I was pleased that they seemed perfectly suited to their roles.

Von Kempelen dropped his cup and retreated across the room to stand before his workbench, arms raised in defense of his equipment. Peters and I rose to our feet, and the burly man gave us a puzzled look.

I growled as I moved forward, but I couldn't even mutter the appropriate reprimands, as I doubted any of them spoke English. I feinted with my left toward the big man's face. He blocked it with his right and drove his left into my midsection. It was at that moment that the thought occurred to me that these might not be the men I had contracted for come early, but rather the real thing keeping their own schedule.