“Thank you for your advice,” said Wayness. ”Thank you, Nelda.”
“You may start toward the door, so that, if Bully should ask I can assert that I saw you on your way out.”
Giljin Leepe and Nelda were gone. The office was silent. Half an hour passed before Mr. Buffums emerged from his inner chamber. He slid shut the door behind him and carefully locked it, using one of twenty keys dangling from his key ring. Swinging around, he marched across the office to the outer door and was gone. The thud of his footsteps diminished and became part of the silence. The premises were vacant.
Not quite vacant. In the shadows something stirred and shifted. Ten minutes passed and the shape seemed to become restless. Nonetheless it composed itself for a further period of waiting, lest Mr. Buffums, discovering that he had forgotten an important document, should return to repair the lack.
Another fifteen minutes passed. Wayness stole furtively from the shadows. “It is no longer Wayness Tamm the Naturalist," she told herself. "It is now Wayness Tamm the burglar. Still, burgling is better than dancing for Mr. Buffums." She moved to Giljin Leepe’s desk and availed herself of the key with the black tip. She noted the telephone switch panel at the side of the desk and resisted the whimsical impulse to call her Uncle Pirie and announce her knew avocation. Wayness became vexed with herself. “I am starting to be giddy. It is probably nervous hysteria. I must put a stop to it.”
Wayness went to the door at the back of the room. She fitted the key and eased open the door inch by inch by inch. With skin tingling she listened but heard only silence; the collection, no matter how rich, dark and heavy its essence could create no sound.
Wayness slipped into Buffums’ office. Taking the key from the lock, she slid the door shut and went briskly to Mr. Buffums' desk, sparing a single wary glance toward the marble statue.
Wayness seated herself before the communicator. She studied the keyboard a moment; all seemed standard. She indicated ‘CON-A’, then 'OB' to bring an alphabetical directory to the screen. She struck 'N', to elicit another directory. She wrote ‘Naturalists Society' and was provided a tabular listing, which included as categories: 'Correspondence’, 'Parcels, Description’, ‘Parcels, Disposition’ and finally: 'Subsequences’.
Wayness looked into 'Parcels, Description’ and almost at once discovered the notation pertaining to Frons Nisfit and his dealings. The listings were numerous and ended with 'Miscellaneous Papers and Documents’.
A box at the bottom of the listing labeled 'Comments’ contained the remark: 'I have notified Ector van Broude, fellow of the Society in regard to these transactions, which seem notably unwise E. Faldeker'
Wayness brought to the screen the category 'Parcels, Disposition’. The information she sought was contained in a single sentence: ‘This entire lot has been consigned to Gohoon Galleries’.
Wayness stared at the words. So there she had it! 'Gohoon Galleries’!
She jerked her head around: what was that? A tremor, a near-inaudible thud? Wayness sat stiff, head tilted to listen.
Silence.
A sound from outside, thought Wayness. She turned back to the screen and brought up the contents of the 'Subsequences' file.
She discovered two entries. The first was dated twelve years previously: ‘Request to view made on this date by off-world woman identifying herself as Violja Fanfarides. No conflict of interest perceived; request granted’.
The second entry bore the current date and read: ‘Request to view made on this date by off-world young woman, identifying herself as Wayness Tamm, Assistant Secretary of the Naturalist Society. Circumstances suspicious; request denied’.
Wayness stared at the remark, infuriated anew. Again she jerked her head around to listen. This time there was no mistake. Someone was at the door. In a single movement Wayness switched off the screen and dropped to her knees behind the desk.
The door slid open; Mr. Buffums entered the chamber, carrying a large parcel in his arms. Wayness shrank down, making herself as inconspicuous as possible. If he approached, she would surely be discovered.
Incommoded by the parcel, Mr. Buffums had left the door open; Wayness tensed herself, ready to dash for the outer office. But Mr. Buffums had turned in the opposite direction. Peering around the desk Wayness saw that he had carried his parcel to a table in the left part of the chamber and had started to remove the wrappings.
Wayness watched covertly. His back was turned. She rose from behind the desk; on stealthy feet she tiptoed to the door and with vast relief passed through. Noticing Mr. Buffums' key ring dangling from the lock, Wayness gently closed the door and locked it with a double turn so that it could not be opened from within. It seemed a fine prank to pay on Mr. Buffums. She hoped that he would be extremely inconvenienced and very much puzzled.
Wayness went to Giljin Leepe’s desk, where she replaced the key with the black tip. Again she glanced at the telephone switch-panel and studied it for a moment. She pushed two toggles, and turned a switch; Mr. Buffums would now be denied the use of his telephone and would be unable to call anyone for assistance. Wayness laughed aloud. It was, all in all, a good day's work.
Wayness returned to the Marsac Hotel. She immediately telephoned Giljin Leepe, using a blank screen.
“Giljin here”, said a cheerful voice.
“This is an anonymous call. You may be interested to know that by some peculiar accident Mr. Buffums has locked himself into his office, with his keys on the outside of the door. Hence he cannot get out.''
“Yes,” said Giljin Leepe. "I consider that interesting news. I will stop answering my telephone, and I will suggest to Nelda that she do the same; otherwise he will insist that one or another of us come to liberate him!”
“There is more interesting news. By accident his telephone has been connected to the instrument on Nelda‘s desk, and he will be unable to make his wishes known until someone arrives in the morning.”
“What a strange situation!” said Giljin Leepe. “Mr. Buffums will surely be perplexed and probably annoyed, for he is not a stoic person. He suspects no intruder?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Good. In the morning I will carefully put everything to rights, and Mr. Buffums will be more bewildered than ever."
After her call to Giljin Leepe, Wayness consulted the hotel's directories and learned that 'Gohoon Galleries' was still a viable concern, that its business was auctioneering, and that its offices were located in Sancelade, readily accessible to her inquiries, which she would continue tomorrow.
The time was late afternoon. Wayness sat in a corner of the hotel lobby, flipping through the pages of a fashionable journal. She became restless and, slipping into her long gray cloak, went out to walk along the promenade which bordered the River Pang. A breeze from the west, where the sun was setting, flapped the fabric of her cloak, rustled leaves in the plane trees, and sent a million little waves scurrying across the water.
Wayness walked slowly and watched the sun drop behind the far hills. With the coming of twilight, the breeze dried to a whisper and then was gone; the wavelets on the river disappeared. A few other folk were abroad: elderly couples, lovers who had made rendezvous along the riverbank, occasionally a person as solitary as herself.
Wayness paused to look out across the river, where the pale lavender-gray sky was reflected along the moving surface. She tossed a stone into the water and watched the black whorls dissipate. Her mood was unsettled. "I have had some success, true. I am not altogether ineffectual, which I suppose is good news. But after that — " The name ‘Violja Fanfarides' suddenly intruded. "I wonder…”. Wayness grimaced. “Odd. I feel queasy inside, as if I were coming down sick." She brooded for a few moments, then put the name aside. “I suspect that Mr. Buffums and his curiosa have affected me more than I might have liked. I hope there will be no lasting effect upon my personality."