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«Mr. Talbot …» Jack began.
«'Larry,' please.»
«That's right, you're American. Larry, good evening. What are you doing out so late?»
«Walking. It seemed a good night for it. I tend to insomnia. You were in town perhaps?»
«Yes.»
«So was I. I met the Great Detective himself, and his friend. He stopped to ask me for a light.»
«Oh?»
Larry glanced at his palm, seemed reassured of something, went on: «I got the impression he's involved in the investigation of the recent slayings … of which I understand there was another tonight. You hear anything about it?»
«No.»
«Cautioned me to watch my step. I guess that's good advice for all of us, though.»
«Did he give the impression he had any real clues?»
Larry shook his head.
«He's a hard man to read. His partner muttered something about dogs, though.»
«Interesting.»
«I'll walk you partway back, if I may.»
«Surely.»
«Eight days more till the death of the moon,» Jack said after a time. «Are you a moon-watcher, Larry?»
«Very much so,» came the reply.
«I'd guessed that.»
We walked for a long while in silence, Larry's stride matching Jack's own.
«Are you acquainted with the one called the Count?» Larry asked suddenly.
Jack was silent for several paces, then said slowly, «I've heard of him, but I've never had the pleasure.»
«Well, he's come to town,» Larry said. «He and I go back a long way. I can always tell when he's about. Opener, I'd guess.»
Jack was silent again. In my mind, I revisited yesterday afternoon, when Graymalk and I had made our way along the route Bubo had shown me. She ventured into the crypt while I waited above. She was down there a long while, silent as a cat, before she repaired topside.
«Yes,» she told me then, «the rat was right. There's a rather handsome coffin down there, up on a pair of trestles. And an opened trunk containing changes of clothes and some personal items.»
«No mirror?»
«No mirror. And Needle's hung himself amid the roots overhead.»
«I guess Bubo traded fair,» I said.
«Never trust a rat,» she told me. «You said he'd sneaked into your place and was snooping around. Supposing that was his real reason for being there, and he only offered to trade information to cover it over when you caught him?»
«I'd thought of that,» I said. «But I heard him come in, and I know just where he was. All he got to see was the Things in the Mirror.»
«Things in the Mirror?»
«Yes. Don't you have any?»
«Afraid not. What do they do?»
«Slither.»
«Oh.»
«Come on. I'll show you.»
«You sure it's all right?»
«Yes.»
Later, she placed a paw against its reflection as she stared.
«You're right,» she said. «They, slither.»
«Change colors, too, when they get excited.»
«Where did you get them?»
«Deserted village in India. Everybody'd died of plague or run away from it.»
«They must have a use… .»
«Yes, they're sticky.»
«Oh.»
I walked her back to Jill's, where she said, «I can't invite you in, or show you any of our stuff, I'm afraid.»
«That's okay.»
«Will you be prowling tonight?»
«Have to go into town.»
«Good luck.»
«Thanks.»
Jack and I parted from Larry at the crossroads near his place and headed west toward our own. When we came into the yard, I smelled owl and saw Nightwind perched in the same tree Quicklime had visited. I growled a «good evening» but he did not return it. I rushed inside first in the event he was a lookout, but there was no one there and there were no odor of intruders. And everything was as it should be. Just simple spying, then. When there's nothing else to do, we watch each other.
Jack went off to deal with his acquisition. I did dognappery in the parlor.
October 10
It rained steadily all day, so I didn't go out much. And not far when I did. No one came by.
I made the rounds many more times than usual, partly out of boredom. Good thing that I did.
The Thing was strangely quiet as I entered the basement. In a moment, I saw why. We had developed a leak. The water entered at the wall, ran along a sagging beam, and dripped down several feet farther in. It had formed a puddle, and the puddle was slowly spreading. One moist pseudopod was extended in the direction of the Circle, having perhaps another ten inches to run before it breached it.
I howled, a long, loud, mournful thing I saved for occasions such as this. Then I threw myself onto the streamer and rolled in it, absorbing it into my coat.
«Hey!» cried the Thing. «Cut that out! This was meant to be!»
«So was this!» I snapped, and I turned over and rolled in the puddle itself, soaking myself as I tossed and wriggled, absorbing a great deal.
I moved off to a far, dry corner then and turned over several times on the floor there, spreading the moisture about in a place where it would evaporate harmlessly.
«Damn dog!» it snarled. «Another few minutes and I'd've made it!»
«I guess it's just not your lucky day,» I replied.
There were footsteps on the stair.
When Jack entered and saw what had happened, he went and fetched a mop. Shortly, he was cleaning up the rest of the puddle and wringing it out into a basin, while the Thing fumed and turned pink, blue, and sickly green. He set a pail beneath the drip then and told me to call him again if we developed any other leaks.
We didn't, though. I checked regularly all afternoon. The rain finally stopped after dark, and I waited several hours after that, just to be sure, before going out.
Moving around to the front of the house, I unearthed the now slimy piece of drugged meat from where I had buried it. I carried it up the road with me and deposited it in plain sight at Owen's front door. The place was dark and Cheeter was nowhere in sight, so I prowled around a bit.
Under the huge old oak in the back I discovered eight large wicker baskets in various stages of construction, and seven smaller ones. There were also lots of heavy ropes about.
I sniffed around. There was also a ladder nearby. Such industry, for a frail-looking old guy … .
I walked a straight line then, passing through yard and field. Partway to my goal it began raining again, lightly. A huge mass of clouds occluded a small area of sky, darker shapes within darkness, and there came a brief, pale glow from within followed by a low rumble of thunder.
Continuing, I came at last into the precincts of the Good Doctor's abode. It was as if I were directly beneath the low cloud-cluster now; and even as I watched, a triple-pronged piece of brightness fell from overhead to dance among the rods on the old building's roof. The crash came almost immediately and the basement windows blazed more brightly.
I remained in the grasses, listening, and I heard a man's voice from within shouting something about seeing to the Leydens. There followed another flash-crash, another devil's tap dance of fire on the roof, more shouts, more flares from the windows. I crept nearer.
Peeking in, I could see a tall man in a white coat, his back to me, leaning over something on a long table, his own form blocking my view of his subject. A small, misshapen individual crouched in a far corner, eyes darting, making nervous movements with his hands. There came another flash, another crash. Electrical discharges played about a bank of equipment off to the tall man's right. They stained my eyes with afterimages for a time. The tall man shouted something and moved to one side, the small man rose and began to dance about. Something on the table, covered, I could now see, by a sheet, twitched. It might have been a large leg that did it, beneath the cloth. There came another blinding burst and a deafening roar. The scene within was momentarily an inferno. Through it all, it seemed to me that something large and manlike tried for a moment to sit up on the table, its exact outline masked by the flowing cloth.