The Girl in the Glass by Jeffrey Ford Page B

consider inconsequential, Schell could possibly snatch up and spin into gold. We had to work fast, with a scattershot method, and merely hope for the best.
    For eye work this important, Antony wore what he referred to as his "cheaters," a pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses that he'd swiped, years earlier, from someone obviously on the verge of blindness. The scratched lenses did nothing more than magnify things ten times—not the least his own eyes. Whenever we'd chance to look up from our work at the same time, I'd get a start from the sight of those two huge peepers, big as pansies, staring at me. With me in my turban and him looking like a three-hundred-pound, six-foot-four owl, no one bothered us while we worked. We rifled madly through the stack of clipped articles, typed sheets, photographs, jotting down snippets of information. The minute hand on the big clock above the grill moved like a thoroughbred on the back turn as I noted information about Barnes's shipping business, his political affiliations, the movie stars who'd visited his home, the charitable contributions he'd made. From what I'd uncovered, he seemed like a typical member of the American aristocracy, yet somewhat more staid than his Gold Coast compatriots. Only five minutes before we had to return the dossier to Kate, Antony looked up, fixed me with that gigantic stare, and said, "We got him."
    "How?" I asked.
    "I'll tell you in the car," he said.
    We shuffled the loose pages together in as close to the order as we'd found them, and I lifted the stack and banged it twice to even it out. Antony took fifty cents from his pocket and threw it on the table. Whipping off his cheaters and stowing them in his inside jacket pocket, he said, "Let's blow." I had to wait until he'd emerged from the newspaper building to get the dope on his catch. He returned to the car with a big smile on his face. As he got in behind the wheel he said, "I told Kate we might want another twenty-dollar peek at that file."
    He started up the Cord, and we pulled away.
    "What did you find?" I asked.
    "Kid, I'm good," he said. "Nothing escapes the gaze of the cheaters."
    "Okay, you're good," I said.
    "Guess who stayed with Barnes when he visited the U.S.?" he asked.
    "I give up."
    "None other than A. Conan Doyle."
    "The author?"
    "Yeah."
    "So what?"
    "The guy's a first-class spook booster, a true believer. Faeries, ghosts, spirits, séances, psychics, you name it, he'll believe it. You could serve him the holes in doughnuts. I found an article about Conan Doyle's stay with Barnes, which noted that they share an interest in spiritualism. Barnes is a mark."
    "That's good to know, but how's it get us in to see him?" I asked.
    "This is the kicker. Another article from a few years ago mentions Barnes and his fellow Harvard alumnus and close friend…guess who?"
    "Parks," I said.
    "Hey…" he said and turned so quickly to look at me, the car swerved momentarily into the oncoming lane.
    "Watch the road," I told him.
    "How'd you know?" he asked, steering back into our lane.
    "I saw a diploma from Harvard on Parks's wall when we were there the first time. I just guessed."
    "You're becoming more like the boss every day," he said. He shook his head and then added, "So we get Schell to talk to Parks, who gets on the blower to Barnes and puts in a good word for us. Bingo."
    "That might actually work," I said. "Nice fishing."
    "Nothing escapes," said Antony. "Nothing."
    Even though Schell wished we'd had more time to gather basic information, he was pleased with our work and agreed that Antony's plan was sound. I listened in as he put the call through to Parks. Witnessing Schell get his way with words was like watching a knife thrower split a hair at twenty yards. He peppered his spiel with mentions of Parks's mother and how much she'd no doubt appreciate seeing us help poor Barnes. By the time Schell was done, Parks would have called the emperor of China on our behalf.
    Then we waited. A day passed,