“And you got the note, but you didn’t go?”
“No. Oh, here’s Henry now. Watch.”
They watched, and as they watched there was a reprise of the previous night’s good work. Henry was rude. Maybelle fought tears. Adams (it was Adams, of course) rose and spoke. Henry seized Maybelle by the wrist and led her from the room to a privy conversation, she shooting a last glance of entreaty to Adams. Adams, after a long moment of contemplation, reseated himself. He, however, unlike Villiers, had sufficient sensibility not to return immediately to the conclusion of his meal, but sat silently in company with his thoughts.
“She has him,” Louisa said. “But she’s not very good. Even I could do better than that and I’m only fifteen. He must be very stupid.”
“He is less than the brightest young man I ever met. Tell me, if you wanted to do some surreptitious looking around, would you wear tight black sweat clothes and tiptoe?”
Louisa giggled. “No. Did he?”
“Yes. What would you wear?”
“Ordinary clothes. And I’d be lost.”
Villiers laughed. “That is better, I think. That’s what I was, but I think it’s also what earned the inspection of my baggage and the company of our friend in gray.”
“He looks bored,” Louisa said
“I imagine he is bored. I tell you, let’s invite him to share our company.”
On the instant, Villiers rose and eased out into the aisle. He walked to the table of the man in gray and made his presentations.
“Sir,” he said in his usual sober manner. “I could not help noting that you dine alone. My lady and I are strangers here ourselves and know how unlively it is to be without company in the midst of a substantial journey. I trust I’m not presuming overly. My name is Villiers. We wondered if you would care to honor us by joining us for the evening.”
To this well-turned invitation the man made no reply in kind. In fact, at Villiers’ approach he had been obviously disconcerted. When Villiers spoke, the man blanched. When Villiers finished, the man rose and broke, unable to cope with the situation. It is a pity that the game of hare and hounds should suffer from savage rabbits and hen-hearted hounds, but if the world was as it ought to be we would all be playing wooden whistles and eating bananas in Eden, as my mother used to say.
When Villiers turned it was to see Louisa having the utmost difficulty in controlling herself, thereby betraying her lack of schooling in genteel conduct. If she had been at Miss McBurney’s for even so long as a fortnight, most assuredly she would not have so much as quivered. He returned to the table and raised a mild eyebrow.
“What did you say to him?” Louisa demanded.
“I told you. I asked him to join us.”
“Oh, Tony. You’re funny.”
Villiers offered his arm and Louisa rose to take it. “Would you prefer the casino or the theater?”
“The theater,” she said, but not in tones that convinced him of her sincerity.
“There’s no need to disney me. Do you really prefer the theater?”
“Oh, no! But you said that you haven’t any money.”
“I haven’t. It’s little matter, though. My bills are substantial enough to warrant my being extended credit and we won’t abuse it. We’ll lose just enough that we can count ourselves entertained.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ve never been in a casino.”
“In that case, we can count it part of your professional education. They cheat here.”
Louisa laughed and stopped minding her careful steps.
As a girl unused to being escorted by gentlemen, she had been concentrating on holding tight to Villiers’ arm and matching his pace. She looked up from their feet to Villiers’ face.
“Did you see them do it?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll point out what to look for. I know gaming somewhat better than confidence swindles. Oh, by the way, I was about to ask you what game Henry and Maybelle are playing.”
“You mean you didn’t know? I thought you didn’t go because you knew.”
Villiers shook his head. “It’s deficient of me, I admit, but I simply knew that they weren’t genuine.”
“Well, it’s one of the very crude ones. I mean, Mommy and Daddy would never do it. Henry would have burst into the room and found you and Maybelle in bed. It would have turned out that she was fibbing and that she and Henry were married. Henry would have been very very mad, and you would have wound up paying them money. I mean, if you had any, that is.”
“Would I, now?” Villiers smiled. “I’m almost sorry I didn’t go, after all. It might have been very amusing.”
7
Most customs are foolish in themselves, and equally so in the purposes to which they are applied.
Could anything be more arbitrary than the proper cut and hang of a drapeau? Present styles in drapeaus are shortly passé, and what once appeared nothing short of bizarre becomes commonplace. The article of clothing is as close to being totally without utility as any ever devised. And yet anyone who is anyone will wear a drapeau, comment at length on color, pattern, and dash, and righteously reject the man who lacks one from all polite company.
Hold it no compliment to Villiers to say that he dressed well. He did, but I should hope that you have better sense than to admire him for it. If you insist on admiration, at least let it be for his superb sense for the moderate and not for his conformation to the accepted.
Proper forks, orders of precedence, ceremonies of confirmation, all pageantry, any of the formal games we play are by any objective standard ludicrous. And since their normal application is to separate those who know and those who are from those who don’t know and those who could never be, they are all the more foolish.
And yet there is a point to custom, even given that any set of customs is as foolish as any other set. Custom frees us from having to turn every minuscule act into a matter for decision.
Villiers’ mind was fixed on the problem of a successful rendezvous with his money. If all the routines of food, lodging, clothing, and relations with others were not routines but required consideration, decision, and action, then Villiers would have been in the unhappy position of our pre-societal ancestors who spent twenty hours in a day curled in a foetal position under a tumble of rocks, paralyzed by fear, exhausted, aching in every bone, trying to summon enough nerve to venture forth into an altogether too real world. Custom freed him. It restricted the number of things that could possibly happen to him to a few that he was automatically able to deal with, and thereby allowed his mind to wander away on a pecuniary pilgrimage.
The point is this: shortly there will be a duel. Duels are silly, though, of course, no more silly than anything else. Simply remember that dueling is one of that peculiar set of customs to which Villiers subscribed, and with which he was prepared to deal. If you find it bothersome to see Villiers occupied so uselessly, bear in mind that throughout he was thinking of more important things.
* * *
The casino was a Mass for the faceless. There is an air to the gambling of most people that lends any casino a brightness, a brittle edge, a tension missing elsewhere. The noise cuts, but these are the bloodless. The clink and rattle play counterpoint to a rising and falling hum of voices. Palms moisten. The controls shut down on certain motor nerves and jaws hang. Noise, money, and emotion become a pinwheel and minds slip into self-hypnosis. If you are not a devotee of this sort of pleasure, there are only two ways to enter the casino, with innocence or as a wolf among sheep. Villiers entered the casino with his own particular innocent arrogance. Louisa entered as a wolf among sheep.
She looked over the room and then sotto voce said, “I see how they cheat people like these. It must be a dull way to earn money.”
“It is a bit insensitive, isn’t it?”
“We should be on our way in no time. Oh, that guidebook was wrong. It said that Star Well was a bore if you don’t gamble. I think this is going to be fun.”
“You
read a guidebook entry on Star Well?”
“Yes, in the Orion.”
Villiers nodded. “You said that your memory was good. What did the entry say? Not the commentary—the description of facilities.”
“Oh, let me see,” Louisa said, drawing in her breath and stopping to think. “Rooms were from nine thalers up to one royal, and there were over three hundred. Alice suggested that I hide in the closet of the royal-a-day room until the ship leaves, and then spring out and fell the gentleman with my beauty.”
“I don’t think you need to do that.”
“She was very pleased to learn that you were living in the Palatine Suite.”
“You may tell her that since I’m already thoroughly smitten, it won’t be necessary for you to hide in my closet.”
“That was the word she used!” Louisa said in delight.
“Closet? If I’m not mistaken it’s the normal word for the facility.”
“No. ‘Smitten.’ She said the gentleman would be smitten with my obvious charms.”
“Well, I should hope so. Or should I? Listen—this Alice—do you tell her everything?”
“Tony! I don’t tell her anything. Not anything real.”
They had stopped by a dice table. They were not at the rail themselves, but stood behind the immediate players observing the course of the action.
Villiers said, “What else did the guidebook say? More specifically, how many landing ports is Star Well supposed to have?”
“Two. I do remember that.”
“Hmm. That’s what I thought I remembered. But I don’t know how old the book is. Look, I want you to do something. I don’t want to ask the question myself. Approach one of the employees and ask him how many landing ports there are. Innocently, casually.”
“But I’m only fifteen,” Louisa said. “If I’m alone, they’ll put me out.”
Villiers raised his eyebrows. “It’s a shame to speak in terms of tests, but I do believe that you suggested a partnership. How good are you?”
Louisa was not the type to point out the implicit unfairness in the challenge. Villiers too easily assumed all rights including washroom privileges for himself, and applicant status for Louisa, while, in fact, it would be Louisa who would be leading Villiers into new byways, and Villiers the neophyte. But she didn’t object. She didn’t even actually feel grounds for objection.
“All right,” she said. She turned away and fumbled in her privy kit. She made some adjustments to herself and then turned back again. The change was startling. This girl who hadn’t been able to wear Alice’s “stylish” clothes because they were too old for her now appeared slightly out of key in her own dress. She was trying too hard to hold on to a freshness of youth that was no longer hers.
“Better?”
“I’m extremely impressed.”
Villiers wandered while Louisa went in search of a Star Well uniform. In a few minutes she was standing beside him again.
“Two,” she said quietly.
“Well, that’s it, then. They must be smuggling. And it’s reasonable here. There are at least three ports in Star Well. I’ve seen a third.”
Villiers sketched the previous morning’s escapade in an undertone. “It seems that there must be an opportunity there for . . .” He paused.
“For us?”
“For something. I thought that Adams might be an investigator, but I’m not so sure now.”
“Because he isn’t bright?’
“At least because he isn’t competent and experienced enough to handle a job like this by himself. If he’s an investigator, then he must be assisting someone else. But I haven’t seen anyone here I thought he could be working for. I’ll have to think where the advantage lies, too.”
Louisa asked, “Isn’t this the same man you pointed out with Maybelle and Henry?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ve seen him with somebody who could be his boss. Just before you came over and spoke this afternoon, he was talking to the Mithraist priest who was on our ship.”
“Was he?” Villiers’ eyes lit.
“Yes, and I never believed he was really a priest anyway. I thought he was just pretending to be one to get a reduction in fare.”
“You’re sure he isn’t a priest?”
“No, but I don’t think he is.”
“I respect your judgment. I barely remember seeing the man, but I know who he’s with tonight. I’ll see what can be found out.”
“I know who he’s with, too,” Louisa said positively.
“You do?”
“He just walked in with the alien he was always talking with on the Orion.”
Villiers turned to see Torve the Trog in company with a short, fat priest in crimson. They were obviously wending their way between the tables toward Villiers and Louisa. A favorable line of occurrence, indeed, but that was Torve for you: a nexus.
“I believe they intend to join us,” Villiers said quietly.
Torve stopped in front of them. “Is Villiers,” he said.
Villiers gestured. “Your servant, sir. Anthony Villiers. This is Miss Louisa Parini. Louisa, my friend Torve.” He looked inquiringly at Srb, who introduced himself.
“We traveled in the same ship,” Louisa said as she allowed her hand to be taken.
“You did seem familiar,” Srb said. “One of the young ladies on their way to school, I collect. You seem somewhat older tonight, however.”
“It may be the hour,” Villiers said. “Or the harshness of the light.”
“Most probably. I saw so little of my fellow passengers, however, that I would be ill put to describe any of them. The passenger cabin was surprisingly empty. I was puzzled enough to ask the captain if there were sickness aboard, but he said the passengers simply seemed reclusive.”
Torve had been growing increasingly restive through the polite round, in contrast to his patience in the waiting room.
“I think I go to read now,” he said flatly. “Most interesting book you have, Tony, Seven Sentient Races Biology. I think I will read that.”
Villiers said, “Have you finished Rainbird?”
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Most interesting, too, but unconvincing.” He turned abruptly and walked away.
Srb cleared his throat. “I’ve enjoyed talking with him, and I think I like him, but I must say that I do not understand him. Does he often act in this manner?”
“Oh, yes,” said Villiers. “In truth, he is very punctilious, sir, but he is ruled by other conventions than ours and I don’t understand them myself.”
“Pardon me,” said Srb, “but you did say that your name was Villiers, did you not? The name is familiar to me.”
Villiers smiled. “It’s a familiar name. We are a widespread family.”
“No, sir, I have the acquaintance of Mr. Walter Villiers on Controlled Berkshire.”
“In that case, I’m delighted to know you, Seigneur Srb. A great pleasure. I can own Mr. Walter Villiers no more than the most distant of cousins, but by reputation he is an undeserved credit to the rest of us. Will you do Miss Parini and me the signal honor of granting us your company for the evening?”
Louisa was following the conversation with great interest, at the same time remaining an inconspicuous presence. Until Alice had raised the point, she had not been aware of the contrast between Villiers in private and Villiers in public, and since she was rather more familiar with the private Villiers, she was finding his public person fascinating. She was interested, too, in Srb, who, as she observed him more closely, seemed less and less the priest he was supposed to be and more and more the gross master of a corps of secret investigators. Her imagination invested him with greater intelligence, cunning, energy, and malevolence than strict evidence allowed, but then her natural sympathies were not inclined toward investigators, even Inspector Generals.
Srb made a courtly salaam and said, “My dear young sir, the pleasure is mine.”
Villiers said, “We were engaged in looking over the var
ious games. Miss Parini is a stranger to the casino and I had it in mind to explain some of the principles before she ventured to wager.”
“Most delightful,” said Srb. “I’m unfamiliar with gaming myself. Shall we say, then, that you have two students?”
“I would have thought you a gaming man.”
Srb coughed. “An occasional game of raffles with my housekeeper. Five minims a game, a minim for odd points. It can run into several thalers in an evening.”
“You’re not unblooded then,” Villiers said and ushered them forward.
Srb said, “A most interesting creature, Torve. On the journey from Morian we discussed theology at some length.”
Villiers blinked. “Theology? I’m sure Torve knows nothing about theology.”
“But they did,” Louisa said. “I heard them.”
“He explained to me several times a traditional myth of recreation. Bizarre, but most interesting.”
“This is most interesting. Ah, could you summarize this myth?”
“Well, let me see.” Srb did his best to reconstruct Torve’s explanation of wholeness and nothingness and their interrelation. After a moment, Villiers stopped him.
“Excuse me, sir, but that’s not theology.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Do you recollect the book that I asked him if he had finished? That was a popular presentation of the cosmological theories of V. H. Rainbird—The Seventeenth Universe. What you have just described is Rainbird’s account of the movement through the universal amnion of the metagalaxy.”
“Good heavens. Are you serious?”
Villiers nodded.
“You mean to say that while I was talking theology, he was talking physics?”
“Yes. Apparently so.”
“Hmmm. It seemed to make sense at the time. You’ve given me considerable food for thought, I’m afraid.”
Louisa said, “Oh, these are pretty machines. What do they do?”
There were several high tables containing banks of the machines. A one, two, or five thaler token activated the machine, which then smiled invitingly. There were twenty-five keys and twenty-five lights, and random connections between them. For your token, you were allowed to depress five keys. The machine paid off in varying amounts for color and pattern combinations. No intelligence was required to play; only the ability to put a coin in a slot and drop a hand blindly onto a keyboard.
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