wink. “I’m his champion marble.”
I kept quiet and let him tell it.
“Once a day the R—— sends for me. He takes me somewhere dark, strikes a match, and holds it to my eye. When the match goes out I tell him what I see. I have to tell him straight off, without an instant’s pondering. That’s all. Once I’ve told him he goes off.” Virgil rolled onto his side. “That’s why he always keeps me by.”
I stared at him. “And you believe in that? In what he puzzles out?”
Now his face did a funny turn—; I suppose he was trying to look dignified. “I’m a rationalist, miss,” he said. “I have no faith in witchery.”
But I was more curious about the R——. “The R—— tells you nothing?”
“Nothing I can use.” He let out a breath. “I write things down for him—; he never learned to cipher.”
“What sort of things?”
“I’ll be in the whist room tonight,” he said. “Taking the minutes.”
It was my turn to give a crafty look. “So will I.”
“The pox you will!”
“The whist room is
my
room on Thursdays.”
“The R—— asked you?” His hand ran nervously along the coverlet.
“That room is mine on Thursdays, Mr. Ball. Your R—— comes here often enough to know.”
But he wasn’t to be quieted. “I wouldn’t think we needed to be waited on, at this particular meeting,” he said in a careful voice.
So he knows more than he tells, I thought to myself. He looks a fool but isn’t.
“The R——’s not declined my services before,” I said.
“He comes here often?” His voice went thick. “He comes to you?”
I smiled. “Why, Aggie? Would you mind?”
He straightened on the bed. “I don’t mind dividing your attentions with—with the
rest,
” he said. He rolled over to face the wall. “But I’d prefer—
not
to share you—with that particular man. I would prefer not to. Uh—”
“You’re nothing but a horse-thief’s opera-glass, Mr. Ball. You’ve no call to dictate anything to anybody. Least of all to me.”
He got up fumblingly from the bed. “You understand me, I see,” he said. His voice was flat and bloodless.
I felt pity for him then. I should have taken that for a sign. I should have known already.
“I’m sure I don’t,” I said. “Not yet.” I held my arms out to him. “Come along back, Aggie, and explain.”
He looked hard at me for a spell. Then he passed a hand over his face and sat down on the bed. We stayed like that a while, listening to the bustle from the street—; I might have fallen into a nap. When I opened my eyes he was watching me like a dog would watch a plate of marrow. A look like that ought to have riled me—; instead it made me feel as light as flax. Another sign. I found that I was pleased to have him by.
“How long have you been with the R——, Aggie?”
He smiled. “How funny that you call him by that name.”
“We call him by whatever name he wants,” I said.
“Yes, miss. So does everybody.”
I laughed. “We get well paid for it.” I gave him a coquettish look. “Can you say the same?”
He only sighed.
“How does the R—— make his money? Is it only horses?”
Virgil gave me a thoughtful look. “No,” he said. “Not only horses.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled in a way that has never done me any good. “What else, then?” I said.
My eyes were closed but I could hear him fumbling for his shirt. “The whist room is yours?” he said.
I nodded. “That’s where I receive my callers. If they don’t ambush me, Aggie, in my private chambers.”
“And you’ll be receiving there tonight.” The bed-springs squeaked as he got up.
I opened my eyes and watched him go. “I will.”
He stood an arm’s-length from the door, buttoning his shirt with slow twists of his thumb. “You’ll have your answer soon enough, then, Clementine.”
Asa Trist.
IN THE BEGINNING AMERICA WAS EMPTY, God said. There were no horses, God said. There were no cabins, God said. The
I kept quiet and let him tell it.
“Once a day the R—— sends for me. He takes me somewhere dark, strikes a match, and holds it to my eye. When the match goes out I tell him what I see. I have to tell him straight off, without an instant’s pondering. That’s all. Once I’ve told him he goes off.” Virgil rolled onto his side. “That’s why he always keeps me by.”
I stared at him. “And you believe in that? In what he puzzles out?”
Now his face did a funny turn—; I suppose he was trying to look dignified. “I’m a rationalist, miss,” he said. “I have no faith in witchery.”
But I was more curious about the R——. “The R—— tells you nothing?”
“Nothing I can use.” He let out a breath. “I write things down for him—; he never learned to cipher.”
“What sort of things?”
“I’ll be in the whist room tonight,” he said. “Taking the minutes.”
It was my turn to give a crafty look. “So will I.”
“The pox you will!”
“The whist room is
my
room on Thursdays.”
“The R—— asked you?” His hand ran nervously along the coverlet.
“That room is mine on Thursdays, Mr. Ball. Your R—— comes here often enough to know.”
But he wasn’t to be quieted. “I wouldn’t think we needed to be waited on, at this particular meeting,” he said in a careful voice.
So he knows more than he tells, I thought to myself. He looks a fool but isn’t.
“The R——’s not declined my services before,” I said.
“He comes here often?” His voice went thick. “He comes to you?”
I smiled. “Why, Aggie? Would you mind?”
He straightened on the bed. “I don’t mind dividing your attentions with—with the
rest,
” he said. He rolled over to face the wall. “But I’d prefer—
not
to share you—with that particular man. I would prefer not to. Uh—”
“You’re nothing but a horse-thief’s opera-glass, Mr. Ball. You’ve no call to dictate anything to anybody. Least of all to me.”
He got up fumblingly from the bed. “You understand me, I see,” he said. His voice was flat and bloodless.
I felt pity for him then. I should have taken that for a sign. I should have known already.
“I’m sure I don’t,” I said. “Not yet.” I held my arms out to him. “Come along back, Aggie, and explain.”
He looked hard at me for a spell. Then he passed a hand over his face and sat down on the bed. We stayed like that a while, listening to the bustle from the street—; I might have fallen into a nap. When I opened my eyes he was watching me like a dog would watch a plate of marrow. A look like that ought to have riled me—; instead it made me feel as light as flax. Another sign. I found that I was pleased to have him by.
“How long have you been with the R——, Aggie?”
He smiled. “How funny that you call him by that name.”
“We call him by whatever name he wants,” I said.
“Yes, miss. So does everybody.”
I laughed. “We get well paid for it.” I gave him a coquettish look. “Can you say the same?”
He only sighed.
“How does the R—— make his money? Is it only horses?”
Virgil gave me a thoughtful look. “No,” he said. “Not only horses.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled in a way that has never done me any good. “What else, then?” I said.
My eyes were closed but I could hear him fumbling for his shirt. “The whist room is yours?” he said.
I nodded. “That’s where I receive my callers. If they don’t ambush me, Aggie, in my private chambers.”
“And you’ll be receiving there tonight.” The bed-springs squeaked as he got up.
I opened my eyes and watched him go. “I will.”
He stood an arm’s-length from the door, buttoning his shirt with slow twists of his thumb. “You’ll have your answer soon enough, then, Clementine.”
Asa Trist.
IN THE BEGINNING AMERICA WAS EMPTY, God said. There were no horses, God said. There were no cabins, God said. The
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