do with those fires. And with my name being painted around, to cause me trouble.”
“But why , Matthew? It makes no sense!”
“Not to you, no. Nor to anyone else. But to me, it makes perfect sense.” He regarded the house again. Fine if the letter was in there, but if so…how was he going to get it? Of course, there were two major problems: he had to get into the house when the snakes weren’t coiled up in there and he had to find the letter. If it had not been destroyed. If, if and if. This plan, he thought, might have been hatched from the inmates at Bedlam.
“That way,” Matthew said, motioning toward the other end of the alley. He followed Berry, hoping in this darkness he didn’t complete his current stay in the Gray Kingdom by twisting a foot on a loose stone. But they made it through the alley onto Smith Street without incident, and there they turned to the right onto Fair Street and then onward toward Queen and the Grigsby property.
“I think,” said Berry as they neared the house, “that you owe me an explanation. I can make you a pot of tea. Will you tell me?”
“Your grandfather has the biggest ears in town,” he reminded her. “And even when he pretends to be sleeping, he’s listening. So…no, I will not.”
She stopped walking, turned toward him and actually grasped a handful of his coat. “Listen to me, Matthew Corbett!” she said, and she cast off some heat which was fine for Matthew because he was near freezing. “When are you going to trust me?”
When I don’t have to fear for your life, he thought. But he kept his expression stolid and his voice as cold as he felt when he said, “My business is my business. That’s how it has to be.”
“No,” she answered without hesitation, “that’s how you want it to be.”
“Yes,” he said.
“You just kissed me. Or did I imagine that?”
And then he said the thing that he had to say, but that cut him like a knife across the throat: “I was confused.”
The statement lingered in the air. The words, once released, came back upon the one who’d uttered them and added a stab to the heart to the already-cut throat. For Matthew saw in Berry’s face how much she was hurt, and she blinked quickly before any tears could rise up and so they did not, and by force of will she kept her face composed and her eyes clear. And she said, in a voice that seemed already distant, “I see.”
They were two words that Matthew would never forget, for they meant that Berry saw nothing, and that he could not correct her vision.
She released her hold upon his coat. She drew herself tall; taller than he, it seemed. She said, “Goodnight, Matthew,” and she left him. He watched her walk with great dignity toward her grandfather’s house, where a lantern showed in a window. She entered the house without a backwards glance, and Matthew drew a long, deep breath of freezing air and continued on to his own abode, which had never felt smaller nor more common.
Eight
Matthew again stood in the cold. It seemed that everywhere now was cold to him. It was a chilly world these days, and not just by the weather. He was again in the alley opposite the house occupied by the false Mallorys. Three nights had passed since his encounter there with Berry. He’d not set eyes upon her since. All to the best, he thought. This business was indeed dangerous, for tonight he was determined to get inside there and find that letter, if indeed it still existed.
The house was dark. Not a candle showed. Matthew had been standing here as last night, about the same hour after midnight, but tonight there was a major difference. Nearly forty minutes ago, he’d seen a coach drawn by four horses pull up before the house. Lashed atop the coach had been a black-painted wooden box about five feet in length, three feet wide and the same deep. A sea chest, Matthew had thought it might be. The kind that might be found in a captain’s cabin. Two burly men serving the coach had
“But why , Matthew? It makes no sense!”
“Not to you, no. Nor to anyone else. But to me, it makes perfect sense.” He regarded the house again. Fine if the letter was in there, but if so…how was he going to get it? Of course, there were two major problems: he had to get into the house when the snakes weren’t coiled up in there and he had to find the letter. If it had not been destroyed. If, if and if. This plan, he thought, might have been hatched from the inmates at Bedlam.
“That way,” Matthew said, motioning toward the other end of the alley. He followed Berry, hoping in this darkness he didn’t complete his current stay in the Gray Kingdom by twisting a foot on a loose stone. But they made it through the alley onto Smith Street without incident, and there they turned to the right onto Fair Street and then onward toward Queen and the Grigsby property.
“I think,” said Berry as they neared the house, “that you owe me an explanation. I can make you a pot of tea. Will you tell me?”
“Your grandfather has the biggest ears in town,” he reminded her. “And even when he pretends to be sleeping, he’s listening. So…no, I will not.”
She stopped walking, turned toward him and actually grasped a handful of his coat. “Listen to me, Matthew Corbett!” she said, and she cast off some heat which was fine for Matthew because he was near freezing. “When are you going to trust me?”
When I don’t have to fear for your life, he thought. But he kept his expression stolid and his voice as cold as he felt when he said, “My business is my business. That’s how it has to be.”
“No,” she answered without hesitation, “that’s how you want it to be.”
“Yes,” he said.
“You just kissed me. Or did I imagine that?”
And then he said the thing that he had to say, but that cut him like a knife across the throat: “I was confused.”
The statement lingered in the air. The words, once released, came back upon the one who’d uttered them and added a stab to the heart to the already-cut throat. For Matthew saw in Berry’s face how much she was hurt, and she blinked quickly before any tears could rise up and so they did not, and by force of will she kept her face composed and her eyes clear. And she said, in a voice that seemed already distant, “I see.”
They were two words that Matthew would never forget, for they meant that Berry saw nothing, and that he could not correct her vision.
She released her hold upon his coat. She drew herself tall; taller than he, it seemed. She said, “Goodnight, Matthew,” and she left him. He watched her walk with great dignity toward her grandfather’s house, where a lantern showed in a window. She entered the house without a backwards glance, and Matthew drew a long, deep breath of freezing air and continued on to his own abode, which had never felt smaller nor more common.
Eight
Matthew again stood in the cold. It seemed that everywhere now was cold to him. It was a chilly world these days, and not just by the weather. He was again in the alley opposite the house occupied by the false Mallorys. Three nights had passed since his encounter there with Berry. He’d not set eyes upon her since. All to the best, he thought. This business was indeed dangerous, for tonight he was determined to get inside there and find that letter, if indeed it still existed.
The house was dark. Not a candle showed. Matthew had been standing here as last night, about the same hour after midnight, but tonight there was a major difference. Nearly forty minutes ago, he’d seen a coach drawn by four horses pull up before the house. Lashed atop the coach had been a black-painted wooden box about five feet in length, three feet wide and the same deep. A sea chest, Matthew had thought it might be. The kind that might be found in a captain’s cabin. Two burly men serving the coach had
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