Wayness examined him critically. “It does not go well with your complexion. The pink one yonder would suit you better. It is larger and more conspicuous but is probably in better taste."
Frowning, Mr. Buffums put the article aside and turned petulantly. Wayness saw that she had annoyed him despite all efforts to be tactful.
Mr. Buffums took a few quick steps toward his desk, then halted and swung about. “Well then, Miss Whatever-your-name."
“I am Wayness Tamm, and I am here on behalf of the Naturalist Society.”
Mr. Buffums arched his dark eyebrows high. "Is this a joke? To my clear understanding the Naturalist Society is defunct."
“The local chapter is somewhat inactive,” Wayness admitted. “However, there are plans to renew the Society. For this reason we are trying to trace certain records which were consigned to Mischap and Doorn by the then Secretary, Frons Nisfit. If you could inform us about these documents, we would be most grateful.”
Mr. Buffums went to lean against his desk. “That is all very well, but for seven generations we have nurtured a reputation for confidentiality which affects each transaction, large or small. Nothing has changed. We cannot risk any conduct which might involve us in litigation.”
“But there is no reason for such concern Nisfit was authorized to dispose of Society assets and certainly no one questions Mischap and Doorn's conduct.”
“That is gratifying news,” said Mr. Buffums wryly.
“As I mentioned, we are only trying to recover some of the Society memorabilia."
Mr. Buffums gave his head a slow shake. “These objects will now have been scattered far and wide; at least, such is my opinion.”
“That is the worst case," said Wayness. "It is just possible that everything is in the hands of a single collector."
“Your arguments are persuasive," said Mr. Buffums.
Wayness could not contain a gush of optimistic emotion. “Oh, I hope so! I do indeed!"
Mr. Buffums leaned back, smiling his faint smile. “How badly do you want this information?”
Wayness’ heart sank. She staled into Buffums amused face. She said: “I came all the way to Sancelade to speak with you, if that is what you mean.”
“Not quite. What I mean is this. If I do a favor for you, then you must do a favor for me. Is that not fair?"
“I’m not sure. What kind of favor do you have in mind?"
“I must explain that I am by way of an amateur dramatist, of not inconsiderable skill, if I say so myself. Already I have several nice little pieces to my credit.”
"So then? “
“At the moment I am creating a pastiche of various elements which when merged, scored and edited will generate a most delicious mood. Now then. There is a certain short sequence which so far has resisted my ingenuity. I think you can help me with it.
"Oh? What must I do?"
“It is simple enough. I take my theme from an old myth. The nymph Eilione falls in love with a statue portraying the hero Leausalas and tries to bring the marble image to life through the fervor of her caresses. Yonder you will notice a marble statue which will serve well enough for a rehearsal. Ignore its priapic condition. Optimally, Leausalas should first seem relaxed, to be gradually aroused by Eilione's attentions. No doubt I will find a way to deal with the problem. In the end, Eilione is encouraged — but enough for the moment. We will begin with the first sequence. If we are agreed, you may disrobe on the dais yonder, while I use the camera."
Wayness tried to speak, but Mr. Buffums paid no heed. He pointed. “Just step up on the dais and slowly remove your clothes. You will quickly become accustomed to the camera. When you are nude, I will issue further instructions. The camera is ready; let us begin the sequence."
Wayness stood stiff and still. She had long been aware that during her quest options of this sort, or even more basic, might be offered her, and she had never precisely defined how far she would go before feeling impelled to draw back. In this case, she found Mr. Buffums offensive and not at all amusing, her response came promptly: "I'm sorry, Mr. Buffums. I would like to be a great actress and dance in the nude, but my mother and father would disapprove, and of course there is no more to be said."
Mr. Buffums tossed his head, so that his long pale hair flew back. He made an angry sound. “Tschah, but are we not the haughty one? Well then, just so, and let it be! I wish you no misfortune; but I cannot abide vapidity. Leave me, please; you have wasted enough of my time!" He strode to the door, unlocked it and slid it aside. “Our Miss Leepe will show you out." He called through the doorway: “Miss Leepe, this young woman is leaving; I will not see her again, at any time.” Mr. Buffums retreated; the door slid shut with a thud.
“Wayness marched into the outer office, teeth clenched.
She stopped by Giljin Leepe's desk, looked back over her shoulder, started to speak, but thought better of it. Giljin Leepe made an airy gesture. “Say anything you like; you won’t hurt our feelings. Everyone who knows Bully Buffums wants to kick him at least three times a day.”
“I'm so furious I can't think of anything.”
Giljin Leepe put on a wise expression. “The interview did not go well?”
Wayness shook her head. “Not at all well. He showed me his art collection, and hinted that he might give me the information I wanted, but first I must dance in the nude. I guess I did everything wrong. When I told him that I was not a good dancer he became surly and sent me away.”
“There is no such thing as a typical interview with Bully Buffums,” said Giljin Leepe. “Each is unique, and everyone comes away marveling at Bully's behavior.”
Nelda spoke from her table across the room. “He is almost certainly impotent.”
"Naturally, neither Nelda nor I can cite any direct evidence," said Giljin Leepe.
Wayness heaved a deep sigh and stared bleakly back toward Mr. Buffums' office. "I've probably made a serious mistake. I can't afford to be squeamish. Still, I don’t know whether I could bear to disrobe in front of that man or not. It makes me squirm just to look at him.”
Giljin Leepe surveyed Wayness with bright inquisitive eyes. “Would you do so if there was no other way of getting your information?”
“I suppose so,” said Wayness. “After all, jumping around in my bare skin for a few minutes would not kill me." She paused. “I am not sure it would end there. I suspect that he wanted me to, well, make love to a statue.”
“And there you would draw the line?"
Wayness hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. Five minutes? Ten minutes? It’s what bad dreams are made of. There must be another way.”
"I know the statue,” said Giljin Leepe. “It is even a handsome statue. If I wanted to look at it again, I could do so easily." She pulled open the top drawer of her desk. “I I've here the key to Bully's office. He thinks he lost it.”
“Notice it has a black tip — not that you are at all interested.”
She glanced at a clock. “Nelda and I will be leaving in about half an hour. Bully usually leaves shortly afterwards.”
Wayness nodded. “This, of course, is of no interest to me.”
“Of course not. What were you trying to learn from Bully Buffums?”
Wayness explained what she needed to know.
“Forty years ago? That would be in Bully's CONN.A files, under the code 'OB' for old business. Then 'N', for 'Naturalist.' It should not be hard to find. Now then,“ Giljin Leepe rose to her feet. “I am about to visit the lavatory. Nelda, as you see, has her back turned and is absorbed in her work. When I return, I will assume that you have left the premises — though I must point out that if you were standing in the shadows at the back of the bookcase yonder, I would notice nothing. So now, I will bid you goodbye and good luck.”