— Hic est hocus, hoc est pocus.
He farted loudly.
— Nunc dimittis. Amen.
Sophie pressed my elbow tightly to her side and leaned her head against mine, shivering with laughter. I was as tall as she in my high heels. I caught her warmish, lilac smell. Felix rubbed his hands.
— That’s that, he said. Now for the photo.
He brought a wooden box-camera on a tripod and set it up in front of us, and bent and peered through the lens, wagging his backside and shuffling his feet.
— Watch the birdie, now! Snap! There.
He thrust the camera aside and danced to the door.
— Come, gentles, he cried. Come, Cinders, foot it featly now!
He flung open the door and backed into the hall with his arms lifted, conducting himself in song.
Tum tumty tum!
Tum tumty tum!
I tottered forward on quaking ankles. Sophie, weak with mirth, leaned on my arm, I thought we both would fall. I turned my head and kissed her swiftly, clumsily, on the corner of her mouth. She laughed, her breath warm against my neck.
— Ah-ah! Felix said, wagging a finger. No kissy-kiss! Das ist verboten.
He retreated before us, singing, and wildly waving his arms. Behind him, a man in a camel-hair overcoat came out of the library and halted, staring at us. Sophie dug her nails into my arm. In the sudden silence Felix stopped, and looked behind him, his smile turning to a smear. He let fall his arms.
— Why, he said under his breath, if it isn’t Prince Charming!
He was a tall, sleek, black-haired young man with broad shoulders and small feet and a small, smooth head. He wore spectacles with thick lenses, which made his eyes seem to start forward in stern surmise. He had a big pale nose, and a little black moustache like a smudged thumb-print. His expensive black shoes were narrow, and highly polished. His fawn overcoat appeared somehow overcrowded, as if a tall man were crouched inside it with a small, imperious companion sitting on his shoulders. I struggled out of the dress and flung it behind me. He looked from my bare feet to Sophie’s top hat, his eyebrows raised, then fixed his bulging stare on Felix and said:
— Mr Kasperl.
Felix made a sort of squirming curtsey, laughing breathily and kneading his hands.
— Oh, no, he said, no, I’m not Kasperl.
The stern eyes grew sterner.
— I meant, where is he? I know who you are.
Again Felix bobbed and laughed.
— Oh, I see, he said, I see. Well, he’s at the mine, I’d say.
There was a pause. The tall young man put his hands in the pockets of his overcoat and looked about the hall.
— The mine, eh? he said.
He seemed sceptical. His gaze settled on the hanging strips of wallpaper and he frowned. He turned back to Felix.
— You know who I am?
Felix smiled obsequiously.
— Yes, I think I …
— D’Arcy’s the name. I’m here on behalf of certain interests. You understand?
— Certain …?
— Yes. Certain parties. I’ve just come down.
He kept his fish-eyes trained on Felix for a moment, with a forceful, meaning look. Felix tittered. There was another silence. Sophie stirred, and gave a little sigh, letting go my arm.
— Well then, D’Arcy said, suddenly brisk, let’s have a look around, shall we?
He turned on his heel and marched up the hall. Felix made a face at his back, wagging his head and grinning, his tongue lolling. Sophie swept past him, and followed D’Arcy into the drawing room.
— Huh! Felix said. Behold the handmaid of the Lord!
In the drawing room she was opening the shutters. She turned to D’Arcy with a brilliant smile, as if she had let in the light for him alone. D’Arcy eyed her dubiously.
— And you, he said, what is your name?
She shrugged, still smiling. Felix coughed, and put a hand over his mouth and said:
— Deaf, I’m afraid.
A wrinkle appeared on D’Arcy’s smooth pale brow.
— Deaf?
Felix nodded, assuming a sad face.
— As a post, yes. Dumb, too.
D’Arcy glanced in my direction.
— And …?
Felix nodded again.
— Very sad, he said. Very.
D’Arcy looked at him searchingly in silence for a moment, then turned abruptly and left the room. Sophie quickly followed him. Felix, bent double in soundless laughter, clutched my arm.
— Oh my, he wheezed, what a chump!
But he was not so blithe as he pretended.
D’Arcy had gone upstairs, with Sophie at his heels. We followed. D’Arcy strode from bedroom to bedroom, casting a disapproving eye about him at the dust and the disarray, breathing grimly down his nose.
— Do you people live here? he said incredulously. Felix pointed a thumb at the ceiling.
— Up there.
— Up …?
— In the attic. This house has many mansions.
He laughed. D’Arcy’s glance was cold.
— Oh yes? he said.
— Airy, you see. Wonderful views. And then, the stars at night, like … like …
D’Arcy walked to the window and stood looking out into the twilight, his hands clasped at his back. Behind him Felix made another grotesque face, put his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers, sticking out his tongue. Sophie frowned at him.
— This is not satisfactory, D’Arcy said almost mildly, as if to himself. This is not satisfactory, at all.
He turned to Felix.
— Is it? he said. Nothing done, no repairs, filth everywhere, people going about in rags, barefoot.
Felix smiled, holding out his empty hands.
— It’s not paradise, I grant you, he said. But it does for us, sir.
— I’m not interested in what does for you, D’Arcy said, with a terrible stare.
We all went downstairs again, trooping in D’Arcy’s wake. He stopped in the hall and took off his glasses and polished them on a spotless white handkerchief. His eyes sprang back into his skull, two tiny, bright beads. He peered at us sightlessly, the lenses flashing in his hands.
— And there have been reports, he said. Something or other about money, some sort of freelance dealing. I shall be making inquiries.
He put on his glasses solemnly and looked hard at each of us.
— You will hear from us, I don’t doubt.
He advanced to the front door. Sophie was there before him, she opened it slowly, smiling eagerly into his face. He avoided her eye, and stepped out into the sodden dusk. His car waited on the gravel, a large, gaudy, gold machine, the roof stippled with rain. He buttoned his overcoat.
— Tell your Mr Kasperl, he said over his shoulder. He’ll be hearing from us.
— Oh, I will, Felix said seriously, I’ll tell him.
D’Arcy lingered, looking at Sophie’s tailcoat, at Felix’s attentive smile, at the traces of lipstick on my mouth. He was about to say something more, but a fat drop of rain from the guttering got down the back of his collar and he shuddered, his shoulder-blades twitching like wings. He turned and went quickly down the steps. Sophie waved until the rear lights of his car were out of sight down the drive. Felix scowled, grinding the fist of one hand into the palm of the other.
— How did he get in here, he muttered, that …
He saw me watching him, and grinned.
— Trouble up mine, eh? he said, winking. And up theirs, too.
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