The Dante Club

Lowell felt himself standing erect for the first time since Phineas Je

Ma

“Never shall I allow you,” Lowell responded. “Dante is the first Christian poet, the first one whose whole system of thought is colored by a purely Christian theology. But the poem comes nearer to us than this. It is the real history of a brother man, of a tempted, purified, and at last triumphant human soul; it teaches the benign ministry of sorrow. His is the first keel that ever ventured into the silent sea of human consciousness to find a new world of poetry. He held heartbreak at bay for twenty years, and would not let himself die until he had done his task. Neither shall Longfellow. Neither shall I.”

Lowell turned and started to descend.

“Three cheers, Professor.” From the platform, Ma

Lowell stopped and looked back toward Ma

Ma

Lowell wanted to leave, but he waited for more.

“I warned him many months ago to disassociate himself from your translation project or suffer severe damage to his reputation. What do you think he did?”

Lowell shook his head.

“He called on me at home and confided in me that he agreed with my assessment.”

“You lie, Ma

“Oh, so Dr. Holmes has remained dedicated to the cause?” he asked as though he knew much more than Lowell could imagine.

Lowell bit his quivering lip.

Ma

“Believe that when I am once a man’s friend I am always so—nor is it so very hard to bring me to it. And though a man may enjoy himself in being my enemy, he ca

Ma

If the murderer had somehow been monitoring Longfellow’s translation and was racing them to completion, the Dante Club had little choice but to complete the thirteen remaining Inferno cantos with the utmost speed. They agreed to divide into two smaller camps: a company of investigators and a company of translators.

Lowell and Fields would labor in reviewing their evidence while Longfellow and George Washington Greene toiled over the translation in the study. Fields had informed Greene, to the old minister’s great delight, that the translation had been placed on a strict schedule, in view of its immediate completion: There were nine previously unreviewed cantos, one partially translated, and two with which Longfellow was not fully satisfied. Longfellow’s servant, Peter, would deliver the proofs to Riverside as Longfellow finished and take Trap for his constitutionals while doing so.

“It makes no sense!”

“Then move on from it, Lowell,” said Fields from his place in the library’s deep armchair, which had once belonged to Longfellow’s grandfather, a great Revolutionary War general. He watched Lowell carefully. “Sit down. Your face is bright red. Have you slept at all lately?”

Lowell ignored him. “What would qualify Je

“Until we find out why Lucifer would have chosen Je

“Well, it confirms Lucifer’s strength. Je

“No doubt he took him at the point of a weapon,” said Fields. “The strongest man alive may fall to fear of a gun, Lowell. We know also that our killer is elusive. Patrolmen were stationed on every street in the area, at all hours, since the night Talbot was killed. And Lucifer’s great attention to the details of Dante’s canto—this too is certain.”

“Any moment as we speak,” said Lowell absently, “any moment as Longfellow translates a new verse in the next room, there could be another murder and we will have been powerless to stop it.”

“Three murders and not a single witness. Precisely timed with our translations. What shall we do, roam the streets and wait? If I were a less educated man, I might begin to think it’s a genuine evil spirit thrust upon us.”

“We must narrow our focus to the murders’ relationship with our club,” Lowell said. “Let us concentrate on tracking all those who might somehow know of the translation schedule.” As Lowell flipped through their investigative notebook, he absently stroked one of the library’s collectibles, a ca

They heard another knock at the front door but ignored it.

“I have sent a note to Houghton asking that he ensure that no proofs from Longfellow’s translation have been removed from Riverside,” Fields told Lowell. “We know all the killings were taken from cantos that at the time were not yet translated by our club. Longfellow must continue to hand in the proofs to the presses as if all were normal. In the meantime, what of young Sheldon?”

Lowell frowned. “He has not yet replied and has been seen nowhere on campus. He is the only one who can tell us about that phantom I saw him talking with, with Bachi gone.”

Fields stood up and leaned down next to Lowell. “You are very certain you saw this ‘phantom’ yesterday, Jamey?” he asked.

Lowell was surprised. “What do you mean, Fields? I told you already—I saw him watching me in Harvard Yard, and then another time waiting for Bachi. And then again in a heated exchange with Edward Sheldon.”

Fields couldn’t help but cringe. “It is only that we are all under much apprehension, much anxiety of the mind, my dear Lowell. My nights are passed in uneasy snatches of sleep as well.”

Lowell slammed down the notebook he was reviewing. “Are you saying I’ve imagined him?”

“You told me yourself that you thought you saw Je

Lowell’s lips quivered. “Now look here, Fields. That is the last turn of the thumbscrew—”