Jesse Ball - Samedi the Deafness

James felt a little embarrassed. He tried to think of something to say.

— I'm sorry, he said. I'm sorry about Tommy.

Stark's posture changed. He sat up.

— The killers were found, you know. Yesterday. That's why I couldn't see you. Two men. Apparently they robbed him, and when he resisted, they stabbed him to death.

His voice was full of anger.

— The men had been to prison before. Both had been released in the last month. What a terrible system it is. It makes men less able to live in the world. It changes nothing for the better. Ah, me.

He came to in a way and realized James was sitting there.

— But the main thing is, some people, McHale, Torquin, the others, their grief was allayed a bit by having you here and playing on your misunderstanding of the situation. Of course, I had you brought here so that we could learn of McHale's final hour. But when it was learned how Tommy's silly conspiracy ideas had gone into your head, well, they decided to confuse you still more. Also, my young friend, I have to tell you another thing, and you won't like it. Grieve was in on the whole thing as well. I'm sorry to tell you, but you would do well not to trust her too much. She is younger than the others, and spent much of her early life alone. Her imagination has a force that. . well, she often forgets that people can be hurt.

— She spent her early life alone? asked James. But her twin sister, didn't they play together?

— Her twin sister?

Stark's face looked confused.

— What do you mean? he asked. She has no twin sister. Her sister is six years her senior, and is far from being her twin.

James sat back in his chair. He felt like he couldn't draw breath. He'd been fooled twice. It had been Grieve. Good lord, she had been in bed with that man. He felt his heart beating fast, and a panic raced through him. What was he to do? And Carlyle. . Carlyle had deceived him. Carlyle must have been laughing at him all along.

— I have to go, he said.

— But we have more to talk about, said Stark. I wanted to offer you work here with us. You mustn't forget the trouble you're in, after all, that business with Mayne. Unfortunately, even if you didn't throw him out the window — which, by the way, can't be proved, as both Mayne's wife and his son say that you did — you would at least get manslaughter. After all, you were in the room holding a gun.

It was too much for James. His arms felt stiff against the leather. He was stuck here. What was he to do?

— I have to go, he said. I'm sorry. There's something. . there's something I need to see about. Can we talk at a different time? Tomorrow? Or later?

There was an odd glint in Stark's eye.

— Later, then. Later is better than tomorrow. Return at four.

— Thank you, said James. Thank you for telling me all this, and for shielding me from the police. You're very kind.

Stark nodded. He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and drew his dressing gown tight about himself.

Grieve, thought James in anger. I have to find Grieve.

He walked slowly to the door of Stark's suite and went through it. Torquin was on the other side. He said nothing to the man, but walked quietly to the stair. As he began down the stair, however, his pace grew faster, and he was soon running. He reached the bottom and ran towards his room. Somehow he thought he would find her there. If she was as duplicitous as it seemed, she would be there. Yes, he thought. She had known he was going to be stuck with her father for an hour or so, and as soon as he had left, she had gone to meet that other man. Pure chance had delayed his meeting with Stark and made it possible for him to know her real nature.

He burst through the door into his room. Grieve was lying on the bed. She looked up at him.

— How could you? he said. How could you have done it?

— What are you talking about?

Her face wore an expression of complete surprise.

— I saw you downstairs. I'd have gone for you both if the window wasn't locked.

— What? You just left. I've been here, sleeping.

— You goddamned. . you. . aaaagh, aaaaagh !

James yelled and yelled at the top of his voice. He picked up the coffee table and threw it. It smashed into the wall and one of the legs broke off.

Then the room was quiet. Grieve was hyperventilating, curled against the wall.

— I should never have trusted you, he said. But I did, and you go off with somebody else.

At this Grieve began to shake violently and cry.

— You're crazy. I hate you.

— I saw you, he shouted. I was behind the house. I saw you.

Grieve rubbed her eyes. She stopped crying.

— You fool, she said coldly. That was my sister. My identical twin.

— Carlyle said that already. And I believed it.

James shook his head.

— What? Then why did you come here like this?

She started to cry again.

— Because of your father. Yeah, your father. I talked to him. He told me it was all a lie. You don't have a twin sister. Your little game is over, by the way. He told me the truth about the whole scheme, you goddamned rat. I can't believe I ever liked you at all.

He got up and went to the door.

— I never should have, he said again.

— James, she said, and her words came in gasps: He's lying. I don't know why. He's lying. You. . you've got to believe me.

James slammed the door and went off down the hall.

That was when he saw Grieve, dusting a table. He came up beside her and pretended to be looking at a painting on the wall.

— They've been tricking me, he whispered. You were right. They can't be trusted.

— We shouldn't talk here, she said. Too many people are around.

— All right, he whispered. If I need to tell you something, how do I contact you?

— You remember the maids' room? she asked. Where you came that time? In front of the door, there's a part where the carpet peels up. Put a note there for me.

She hurried away.

James stood now, actually looking at the painting. It was a portrait of a man holding a fowling piece, standing in the foreground of what looked like an Italian landscape. His face was very shrewd.

You've been in on it, too, haven't you? thought James. You should have warned me.

Just then a man came up.

— Excuse me, he whispered.

James looked at him. He recognized the servant as a man he did not like. The man had brought drinks when James had been playing rovnin, and had laughed when James made a bad move. Both of them had laughed, the man James was playing against and the servant.

He must be in on it, too, thought James.

— What do you want? he asked suspiciously.

— I just think you should know, said the man, be careful whom you talk to. That maid, Grieve, she's not to be trusted. She's not on your side. I've seen her talking to Stark and the others. They planted her so they could know what you're up to.

James couldn't believe his ears. How transparent. It was just like them to try to make him distrust the one person who had been true to him.

— I won't listen to this, said James. Your little trick hasn't worked.

Go tell your master, whoever he is, whoever she is, that I'm on to you.

He stormed off down the hall.

James walked in his anger out onto the lawn. He stood in the bright sun and felt how miserable he was. It was no good trusting anyone, he thought. What a fool they must think him. And he had been a fool.

He sat down in the grass and drew breath.