had been erected booths backed by solid stone
warehouses. During the day goods were brought forth from the latter and
displayed under awnings, or by the most prosperous merchants in little
huts sided with glass, while brawny slaves guarded them with clubs. At
night they would be taken back into the warehouses and firmly secured
against robbers.
Instructing Don Pedro to dismiss the coach for an hour, Don Miguel set
forth on foot for a tour of the market. He paused apparently at random
-- to test the quality of nutmegs at a spicer's, to feel some splendid
Eastern brocades in a draper's, to examine a set of candlesticks in a
silversmith's -- and as he did so he asked casual-seeming questions of
the staff. Somehow, to Don Pedro's increasingly obvious admiration, he
contrived to introduce into each such conversation the names of Higgins
and Don Arcimboldo.
The expiry of the hour saw them emerging from a bookbinder's, where
gold-leaf glittered on fine calf bindings and the air was rich with the
scent of leather and size, and with that Don Pedro's patience ran dry.
"Sir!" he exclaimed. "The subtlety of your inquiries has amazed me --
truly it has!"
"Subtlety?" Don Miguel echoed with a scowl, striding in the direction
of the spot where they were to rejoin their coach. Their course was
taking them through the heart of the market, and at this noontide
juncture the place was crowded. Retainers from noble families, bearing
conspicuous crests, kept shoving their way through with arrogance, a
fact which greatly annoyed Don Pedro but which Don Miguel put up with
stoically. They could have cleared a path for themselves by merely
mentioning the name of the Society, let alone displaying its arms --
the scythe and hourglass which Borromeo had personally chosen for its
insignia -- but it was a bad time to draw attention to themselves.
"Subtlety?" he said again, and added a savage chuckle. "Well, if it's subtle
to fail completely in trying to answer an all-important question, I'll
agree . . . Don't bother me for a moment, if you please! I'm desperately
struggling to think!"
Embarrassed, Don Pedro shut his mouth like a rat-trap, and did not utter
another word apart from inviting Don Miguel to precede him into the coach,
until the latter spoke again nearly halfway back to the Society's office.
"Don Pedro! A word of advice from you!"
"You do me much honour,' Don Pedro said nervously. "I trust I can provide
what you want."
"Well, I can't figure it out for myself. You have a go. Imagine you were
in Don Arcimboldo's place, heir to lands in Scotland and and a highly
respected collector of antiques: why would you give a very rare and
costly mask of solid gold to a lady who is -- to be blunt -- far past
the age of courtship?"
Don Pedro's eyes widened. For a long moment he said nothing; then finally
he ventured, "Well, perhaps from motives of simple friendship . . . ?"
What Don Arcimboldo had said about the Marquesa during her party ruled
out that possibility, in Don Miguel's view. He dismissed the suggestion
with a wave of his hand, not bothering to explain why.
"Another reason?" he invited.
"Well . . ." Don Pedro swallowed enormously. "Far be it from me to impute
anything to someone as respected as Don Arcimboldo, but . . . Perhaps one
might assume he stood to gain by his action?"
"I'm very much afraid one might. Don Pedro, instruct your coachman to
detour by way of Higgins's residence in the town. I trust you're not in
a great hurry for your lunch -- this may take a little time."
In fact, the stop at Higgins's home lasted a mere twenty minutes,
but when he came away Don Miguel was frowning like thunderclouds and
responded to Don Pedro's attempts at conversation only with frigid grunts.
Then, on their return to the Society's office, he found a message awaiting
him, received by semaphore telegraph from Londres a few minutes before.
It was a report from Red Bear's field-teams, informing him that
Terra Kelly
Patricia Highsmith
Anne Marsh
Jodi Cooper
Roxie Lee
Wendy S. Marcus
Kathi Daley
J. D. Robb
Margot Early
John Glassie