Page 72 of The Affair of the Mysterious Letter
“And if I do find myself talking about it, thinking about it, or remembering it?”
“In all honesty, that’s probably unavoidable. Just steer clear of Carcosan theatre for a bit and if you wake up in the night and discover that you’ve drawn eldritch symbols all over your bedsheets maybe come and have a word with me. Oh, also keep your gun handy because there’s a slim chance that the undying servants of the King Whom Emperors Serve will show up and try to claim your soul. Or mine. Probably mine, actually.”
I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. I was equally uncertain whether I should be thanking my companion for rescuing me from the Repairers of Reputations or challenging her for the decisionto abandon me to them. Suspecting that she would be equally dismissive of either sentiment, I elected to broach neither topic and, wishing to forestall sleep as long as possible, spoke instead of my encounters with Mr. Castaigne.
Ms. Haas shrugged, then winced. “A pitiable end for a pitiable man. After the unfortunate business at the café, I managed to track him down to a ghastly little flat in a concrete government building. Contrary to what my researches had led me to believe, he was clearly a man of no real influence, terrified of the Repairers, and willing to say or do anything to cling to what little property and liberty remained to him. Not at all the sort of person who would be able to arrange for a complex interdimensional espionage and extortion operation.”
“Even so, he did not deserve the fate we led him to.”
“Nor did he deserve the privilege into which he was born, the tumult that fell upon his people, or the pernicious and corrupting influence that emanates from the mystical Lake Hali and seeps, to one degree or another, into every soul in Carcosa. Sometimes bad things happen to uninteresting people. Now, excuse me, I’ve been living on opioids and water for the last three days and I need to pass out.”
And, with that, she collapsed across the foot of my bed and did not stir for several hours. For the best part of the next week, my companion and I concerned ourselves primarily with convalescence. I gradually learned again to trust that reality would retain a consistent shape and that waking would remain broadly distinguishable from dreaming, although my dreams themselves were not wholly without visions of those black stars, those shrouded towers, and that lightless lake. And, indeed, such images remain with me, if infrequently, to this day. Ms. Haas, by contrast, mediated her recovery through her usual assortment of medication, relaxation, and nocturnal perambulation. I flatter myself that I was able to encourage her at least slightly inthe direction of more wholesome pursuits, managing to persuade her to take breakfast on no less than three occasions.
As she had predicted, an unliving servant of the Yellow King did, eventually, come to our door, seeking to claim our lives and our essences in the forbidden name of its master. Ms. Haas and I both being somewhat indisposed, the monstrosity was met at the door by Mrs. Hive, who, although indignant at the intrusion, was pleased to discover that the entity—the livid and reanimated corpse of a local gravedigger—made a most suitable replacement for the stevedore whose body had, by this stage, decayed well past the point of viability. How she was able to overcome the animating will of the dread god the creature served I never asked, but it would not be the last time that I would be reminded that one should never try the resolve of our good landlady.
The day after this most startling interlude, the bloated cadaver shuffled into the sitting room to inform us, in Mrs. Hive’s detached, droning way, that Second Augur Lawson was without and wished to speak with us. My companion’s response was to declare loudly, and in no uncertain terms, that the Second Augur’s presence was unwelcome, his aptitude suspect, and his parenthood likewise. To my mild embarrassment, he came in anyway.
“All right, then, Haas?” He lowered himself into the only remaining chair. “Meaning no disrespect to your good self, we checked the suspects that you had previously investigated and, on this occasion, the official force agrees with your assessment.”
Ms. Haas, who had been insensible upon the chaise since breakfast, now propped herself on one elbow. “What uncommon wisdom you display.”
“This leads us to the secondary line of enquiry, regarding the possibility of interference by Carcosan agents. Owing to the sensitive nature of investigations pertaining to foreign powers, the remainder of information on this matter comes by way of the Office of AugursExtraordinary, who assure us that while Carcosan agents do remain active in the city, as do agents of several nations, there is no indication that there was any organised effort by Carcosan intelligence to break up your client’s wedding.”
At this juncture, Mrs. Hive entered with a tray of tea things. She had taken to preparing refreshments while we had been too injured and exhausted to do so for ourselves, and I had never quite had the heart to tell her that the saprophytic flora that she routinely shed into the pot rendered the end product utterly undrinkable, at least to me. Ms. Haas seemed either unaware or indifferent. The Second Augur took the proffered cup and saucer politely but, I noted, made no effort to drink from them.
“Yes,” returned Ms. Haas, poking the fungal bloom in her teacup speculatively. “That suspect proved to have rather less reach than we thought he did. Also, he’s dead now.”
“Not, I hope, as a consequence of your actions.”
“Not directly. Besides, I’m sure the criminal element of this city is already taxing you quite to your limits.”
The Second Augur tapped his metal fingers on the threadbare arm of the chair. “Oh, how I have missed our playful banter. Now, can you tell me anything else about this case or not?”
“The case is solved, Mr. Lawson. You don’t need to worry your head about that.”
“Solved?” I ejaculated. “But we’ve eliminated all possible suspects!”
“That, Captain,” drawled Ms. Haas, with an air that it would not be uncharitable to describe as smug, “is precisely the point. When you’ve eliminated the possible, all that remains is the impossible, and I find that so much more satisfying to work with.”
Demonstrating what in the circumstances constituted admirable restraint, the Second Augur asked, “So who was it, then?”
“I’m not telling you.”
At this, the Second Augur’s response was not so admirable, containing as it did only three words suitable for publication, those words being “for,” “sake,” and “you.”
“Now, now, Mr. Lawson.” Ms. Haas grinned with inappropriately sincere enjoyment. “While I would absolutely withhold information on a matter such as this just to annoy you, in this case I really am protecting my client. As I explained to you at some length before we left for Carcosa, this is a personal matter that cannot possibly impinge in any way on the safety of Khelathra-Ven or its citizens. You have done your job, Second Augur. Why don’t you go chase a shoplifter?”
There was a none-too-pleasant silence, not aided by Mrs. Hive’s provision of biscuits into which some of her larvae had crawled. This created something of a quandary of etiquette, there being no established convention as to whether it was less polite to turn down such an offering or to consume part of your host’s gestalt body and consciousness.
“You know what,” said Second Augur Lawson at last, “I’m going to pretend that I really think you’ve broken the habit of a lifetime and are trying to do what’s right by another person.” He rose, turning up the collar of his coat and putting his hat back on. “Good evening, Ms. Haas, Mr. Wyndham.”
And he left.
After I heard the door close and was certain that the Second Augur was some way down the street, I turned to my companion. “You will at least tell me who the blackmailer is?”
“Captain, you disappoint me. I really thought you’d have worked it out for yourself.”
“On the contrary, I am quite in the dark. We had five suspects at the start of this endeavour and now we have none.”
