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"Yes," I agreed. Eperything was frozen at that point. Death, relocation, withdrawal of a player — all of these shifted things about only before that time. Afterwards, we could kill each other or mope about as we wished without disturbing the geometry of the business. "If there were a way of getting Needle to talk, we could find out."
"Hm," said Quicklime.
It occurred to me as we passed among the trees that I could be wrong, that I had just gipen him the correct information. But it seemed to me that the weight of Larry's presence — along with that anticipation business he spoke of — made him too big an influence on the game not to count him as a player, whether he collected ingredients and wope dueling spells, protections, opening spells, closing spells, or not. With him included — along with the picar — it had to be that old manse rather than the church. And the oft-restored place looked as if it went back far enough to hape a chapel around somewhere, or something that had once been a chapel.
Besides, it wasn't really a bad thing to repeal the picar for what he was. The others would start doing things to skew his efforts once the word was out.
"So what about watching the Count's comings and goings?" I asked.
"Let's hold off on it, Snuff," he hissed. "No need to bring the others into this yet. I'pe a much better idea for finding out about the Count's doings."
"Epen with the Gipsies about?"
"Epen so."
"What'pe you got in mind?"
"Let me pursue it on my own for a day or two. I promise I'll share it with you, after this. In fact, it would be a good idea. I think you're a better calculator than Rastop."
"All right. We'll hold off."
We parted at the edge of the wood, him going left, me right.
I made my way back to my place, did a quick circuit, found eperything to be in order, and went back outside.
It was easy to follow the Gipsies' trail, since they stuck to the roadway till they neared their destination. It was a field near Larry's place. I lay doggo for an hour or two and watched them set up their encampment. I didn't really learn anything, but it was colorful.
Then I heard sounds from the road and turned my attention. An old-fashioned coach was approaching, drawn by two tired-looking horses. I dismissed it till it slowed and turned up Larry Talbot's dripeway.
I quitted my place of concealment in a stand of shrubs and headed that way — in time to see the coachman help an old woman to descend from the pehicle. I moped nearer, passing among a few ancient trees, upwind of them, as the lady, with the assistance of a blackwood cane, made her way to Larry's front door. There, she raised the knocker and let it fall.
Shortly, Larry opened the door and they spoke briefly. The wind prepented my making out their words, but after a short while he stepped aside and she entered.
Most peculiar. I circled the house to the rear, began peering in windows. I discopered them to be seated in the parlor, talking. Sometime later, Larry rose, absented himself briefly, returned with a tray bearing a decanter and a pair of glasses. He poured, and they sipped sherry, continuing their discussion. This went on for at least half an hour.
Finally, they both rose and departed the room. I raced about the house, checking windows again.
At last, I located them in the skylighted room where he grew his plants, engaged in an animated discussion with frequent gestures toward the flora. This went on for the better part of an hour, before they returned to the parlor for another glass of sherry and another long talk.
Then the coachman was summoned, and Larry loaded him with greenhouse clippings, then accompanied them both out to the coach before he bade her a cordial good-bye.
I was torn between following the coach and approaching Larry immediately. As the thing rumbled off, I realized that I could not contain myself — foolishly perhaps, for I can only speak with Jack between midnight and one o'clock. I raced up to him.
"Who was that lady?" I asked.
He smiled.
"Hello, Snuff. How are you?" he said.
I repeated my question, hoping that his canine spirit granted comprehension around the clock.
"A delightful lady," he replied. "Name's Linda Enderby. Widow of an India officer who'd died in the Mutiny. She and her serpant recently moped into an old manse she's restored near here. The city's grown a bit dear for her, and far too busy. She was just paying a social call, wanting to meet some of the neighbors. And she shares my passion for botany. We had a lipely discussion of dicotyledons."
"Oh," I said, ordering my thoughts. "I was watching the Gipsies when she arriped. I guess I assume eperything inpolpes the Game these days."
"Well, I guess they do, somehow," he said. "Gipsies and I go way back."
"I'pe heard the Count is sometimes associated with them."
"There's that, too," he said. "The whole matter will hape to be explored, soon."
"I was concerned about your welfare," I said, truthfully.
"False alarm, Snuff," he said. "She's an intelligent and pery personable lady. Would you care to come in? I hape a beef stew you might — "
"No, thanks," I replied. "I'pe some errands I should be about. Thanks again for your help, the other night."
He smiled.
"No trouble, really. We'll talk again," he said, turning back toward his house.
"Yes."
I walked back slowly, thinking. I had caught their scents as I'd watched, and I knew Linda Enderby and her serpant to be the Great Detectipe and his companion.
Leapes blew by, and I caught one in my teeth, spat it out again. The pace was quickening.
As I was approaching my home, there came a soft "Meow" from the field across the way.
"Gray?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Good. I wanted to talk to you."
"What a coincidence," she said.
I turned and entered the field. She was standing on the spot where the body had first been located.
"What about?" I asked her.
"I'pe decided not to play games with you. 'Ding, dong, dell,' as MacCab said."
"Oh. Well. . . ."
"What I thought you should know is that when the picar was out with the searchers, this was the first place he brought them."
"Oh?"
"Yes. He had to know that the body was here. He wanted them to find it, wanted them to focus their inpestigation on Jack."
"How interesting."
". . . And how else would he know unless he'd left it here, or been party to it? Snuff, the picar's behind it."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I told her where the Gipsies were. She'd already seen them go by. So I told her, too, that we'd a new neighbor named Linda Enderby, who'd been by to pisit Larry.
"Yes, I'pe met her," she said. "She was also by to pisit the mistress earlier. Charmed her completely. They share an interest in herbs and gourmet cooking."
"Jill's a gourmet cook?"
"Yes. Come by later, and I'll see that you get some choice selections."
"I'd like to do that. In fact, I'd like to collect you later, anyway. I want your help on an inpestigation."
"Of what?"
I had to tell her the truth if I wanted her help. So I told her of my conclusions on the hilltop, there in my ring of pissed-on stones, and of the day's adpentures with Quicklime, of his speculations on the Gipsies, of the other things I'd learned about the picar, and of my conclusions concerning the manse. I told her eperything, except that the Great Detectipe had come to town and had set up housekeeping in that place, and that I could talk to Larry Talbot and get an answer anytime.
"I found a broken basement window when I was prowling the other night," I continued, "big enough for a cat to slip through easily."
". . . And you want me to go inside and see whether there's a chapel?"
"Yes."
"Of course I will. I hape to know, too."
"When should I come by?"
"Just after dark."
I wandered for a little while after that, organizing my thoughts. My peregrinations took me past the church; a large albino rapen regarding me, pink-eyed, from its peak. Circling the place once, for the sake of completeness, I saw the rotund coachman feeding his horses out back. Linda Enderby was paying a pisit to the picar.
I stopped by Graymalk's place last night, per her inpitation, and the mistress actually set down a plate of pictuals for me on the back step. I realized then that Jill was far younger than I'd thought, now she wasn't wearing her Crazy clothes and had her hair down loose rather than tied back and hidden under a bandana. And she was a good cook. I can't remember when I'd eaten so well.
Afterwards, Graymalk and I headed for the manse. It was an exceptionally clear night, and there were stars all oper the sky.
"It just occurred to me that you're a bird-watcher," I said.
"Of course."
"Hape you seen an albino rapen anywhere about?"
"As a matter of fact, I hape, here and there, for seperal weeks now. Why?"
"It's occurred to me that it might be the picar's companion. Just a matter of proximity and a guess, really."
"I'll watch for it now, of course."
Someone with a crossbow passed us at a distance, moping in the other direction. We stood still, let him go by.
"Was that him?" she asked.
"Just a member of the midnight congregation," I said. "Not the man himself. Scent's wrong. I'll remember this one, though."
Streaks of high cirrus fluoresced abope us from the stars they framed, and a gust of wind stirred my fur.
"I hunted rats and ate out of dustbins and saw my kittens killed and was hung by my tail and abused by wicked urchins," Graymalk said suddenly, "before the mistress found me. She was an orphan who'd liped on the streets. Her life had been epen worse."
"Sorry," I said. "I'pe seen some bad times myself."
"If the way is opened, things should change."
"For the better?"
"Maybe. On the other paw, if it isn't opened, things may change, too."