cb.imajica1-第51章

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　experience　for　her。　There　was　a　certain　reserve　in　Oscar's　manner…and　a　consequent　formality　in　their　exchanges…which　merely　intensified　her　feelings　for　him。　When　they　were　alone　together　she　felt　like　a　long…lost　mistress　miraculously　returned　to　his　side；　each　with　sufficient　knowledge　of　the　other　that　overt　expressions　of　affection　were　superfluous；　when　she　was　with　him　in　pany…at　the　theater　or　at　dinner　with　his　friends…she　was　mostly　silent；　and　happily　so。　This　too　was　odd　for　her。　She　was　accustomed　to　volubility；　to　handing　out　opinions　on　whatever　subject　was　at　issue；　whether　said　opinions　were　requested　or　even　seriously　held。　But　now　it　didn't　trouble　her　not　to　speak。　She　listened　to　the　tittle…tattle　and　the　chat　（politics；　finance；　social　gossip）　as　to　the　dialogue　of　a　play。　It　wasn't　her　drama。　She　had　no　drama；　just　the　ease　of　being　where　she　wanted　to　be。　And　with　such　contentment　to　be　had　from　simply　witnessing；　there　seemed　little　reason　to　demand　more。
　Godolphin　was　a　busy　man；　and　though　they　spent　some　portion　of　every　day　together；　she　was　more　often　than　not　alone。　When　she　was；　a　pleasant　languor　overcame　her；　which　contrasted　forcibly　with　the　confusion　that　had　preceded　her　ing　to　stay　with　him。　In　fact　she　tried　hard　to　put　thoughts　of　that　time　out　of　her　mind；　and　it　was　only　when　she　went　back　to　her　flat　to　pick　up　belongings　or　bills　（which；　on　Oscar's　instruction；　Dowd　paid）　that　she　was　reminded　of　friends　whose　pany　she　was　at　present　not　disposed　to　keep。　There　were　telephone　messages　left　for　her；　of　course；　from　Klein；　Clem；　and　half　a　dozen　others。　Later；　there　were　even　letters…some　of　them　concerned　for　her　health…and　notes　pushed　through　her　door　asking　her　to　make　contact。　In　the　case　of　Clem　she　did　so；　guilty　that　she'd　not　spoken　to　him　since　the　funeral。　They　lunched　near　his　office　in　Marylebone；　and　she　told　him　that　she'd　met　a　man　and　had　gone　to　live　with　him　on　a　temporary　basis。　Inevitably；　Clem　was　curious。　Who　was　this　lucky　individual？　Anyone　he　knew？　How　was　the　sex：　sublime　or　merely　wonderful？　And　was　it　love？　Most　of　all；　was　it　love？　She　answered　as　best　she　could：　named　the　man　and　described　him；　explained　that　there　was　nothing　sexual　between　them　as　yet；　though　the　thought　had　passed　through　her　mind　on　several　occasions；　and　as　to　love；　it　was　too　soon　to　tell。　She　knew　Clem　well　and　could　be　certain　that　this　account　would　be　public　knowledge　in　twenty…four　hours；　which　suited　her　fine。　At　least　with　this　telling　she'd　allayed　her　friends'　fears　for　her　health。
　〃So　when　do　we　get　to　meet　this　paragon？〃　Clem　asked　her　as　they　parted。　〃In　a　while；〃　she　said。
　〃He's　certainly　had　quite　an　effect　on　you；　hasn't　he？〃　〃Has　he？〃
　〃You're　so…I　don't　know　the　word　exactly…tranquil；　maybe？　I've　never　seen　you　this　way　before。〃　〃I'm　not　sure　I've　ever　felt　this　way　before。〃　〃Well；　just　make　sure　we　don't　lose　the　Judy　we　all　know　and　love；　huh？〃　Clem　said。　〃Too　much　serenity's　bad　for　the　circulation。　Everybody　needs　a　good　rage　once　in　a　while。〃
　The　significance　of　this　exchange　didn't　really　strike　her　until　the　evening　after；　when…sitting　downstairs　in　the　quiet　of　the　house；　waiting　for　Oscar　to　e　home…she　realized　how　passive　she'd　bee。　It　was　almost　as　if　the　woman　she'd　been；　the　Jude　of　furies　and　opinions；　had　been　shed　like　a　dead　skin；　and　now；　tender　and　new；　she　had　entered　a　time　of　waiting。　Instruction　would　e；　she　assumed；　she　couldn't　live　the　rest　of　her　life　so　becalmed。　And　she　knew　to　whom　she　had　to　look　for　that　instruction：　the　man　whose　voice　in　the　hall　made　her　heart　rise　and　her　head　light；　Oscar　Godolphin；
　If　Oscar　was　the　good　news　that　those　weeks　brought；　Kuttner　Dowd　was　the　bad。　He　was　astute　enough　to　realize　after　a　very　short　time　that　she　knew　far　less　about　the　Dominions　and　their　mysteries　than　their　conversation　at　the　Retreat　had　suggested；　and　far　from　being　the　source　of　information　she'd　hoped　he'd　prove；　he　was　taciturn；　suspicious；　and　on　occasion　rude；　though　never　the　last　in　Oscar's　pany。　Indeed；　when　all　three　of　them　were　together　he　lavished　her　with　respect；　its　irony　lost　on　Oscar；　who　was　so　used　to　Dowd's　obsequious　presence　he　barely　seemed　to　notice　the　man。
　Jude　soon　learned　to　match　suspicion　with　suspicion；　and　several　times　verged　on　discussing　Dowd　with　Oscar。　That　she　didn't　was　a　consequence　of　what　she'd　seen　at　the　Retreat。　Dowd　had　dealt　almost　casually　with　the　problem　of　the　corpses；　dispatching　them　with　the　efficiency　of　one　who　had　covered　for　his　employer　in　similar　circumstances　before。　Nor　had　he　sought　mendation　for　his　labor；　at　least　not　within　earshot　of　her。　When　the　relationship　between　master　and　servant　was　so　ingrained　that　a　criminal　act…the　disposal　of　murdered　flesh…was　passed　over　as　an　unremarkable　duty；　it　was　best；　she　thought；　not　to　e　between　them。　It　was　she　who　was　the　interloper　here；　the　new　girl　who　dreamed　she'd　belonged　to　the　master　forever。　She　couldn't　hope　to　have　Oscar's　ear　the　way　Dowd　did；　and　any　attempt　to　sow　mistrust　might　easily　rebound　upon　her。　She　kept　her　silence；　and　things　went　on　their　smooth　way。　Until　the　day　of　rain。
　
　A　trip　to　the　opera　had　been　planned　for　March　second；　and　she　had　spent　the　latter　half　of　the　afternoon　in　leisurely　preparation　for　the　evening；　idling　over　her　choice　of　dress　and　shoes；　luxuriating　in　indecision。　Dowd　had　gone　out　at　lunchtime；　on　urgent　business　for　Oscar　which　she　knew　better　than　to　inquire　about。　She'd　been　told　upon　her　arrival　at　the　house　that　any　questions　as　to　Oscar's　business　would　not　be　weled；　and　she'd　never　challenged　that　edict：　it　was　not　the　place　of　mistresses　to　do　so。　But　today；　with　Dowd　uncharacteristically　flustered　as　he　left；　she　found　herself　wondering；　as　she　bathed　and　dressed；　what　work　Godolphin　was　about。　Was　he　off　in　Yzordderrex；　the　city　whose　streets　she　assumed　Gentle　now　walked　with　his　soul　mate　the　assassin？　A　mere　two　months　before；　with　the　bells　of　London　pealing　in　the　New　Year；　she'd　sworn　to　go　to　Yzordderrex　after　him。　But　she'd　been　distracted　from　that　ambition　by　the　very　man　whose　pany　she'd　sought　to　take　her　there。　Though　her　thoughts　returned　to　that　mysterious　city　now；　it　was　without　her　former　appetite。　She'd　have　liked　to　know　if　Gentle　was　safe　in　those　summer　streets…and　might　have　enjoyed　a　description　of　its　seamier　quarter…but　the　fact　that　she'd　once　sworn　an　oath　to　get　there　now　seemed　almost　absurd。　She　had　all　that　she　needed　here。
　It　wasn't　only　her　curiosity　about　the　other　Dominions　that　had　been　dulled　by　contentment；　her　curiosity　about　events　in　her　own　planet　was　similarly　cool。　Though　the　television　burbled　constantly　in　the　corner　of　her　bedroom；　its　presence　soporific；　she　attended　to　its　details　scarcely　at　all　and　would　not　have　noticed　the　midafternoon　news　bulletin；　but　that　an　item　she　caught　in　passing　put　her　in　mind　of　Charlie。
　Three　bodies　had　been　found　in　a　shallow　grave　on　Hampstead　Heath；　the　condition　of　the　mutilated　corpses　implying；　the　report　said；　some　kind　of　ritualistic　murder。　Preliminary　investigations　further　suggested　that　the　deceased　had　been　known　to　the　munity　of　cultists　and　black　magic　practitioners　in　the　city；　some　of　whom；　in　the　light　of　other　deaths　or　disappearances　among　their　number；　believed　that　a　vendetta　against　them　was　under　way。　To　round　the　piece　off；　there　was　footage　of　the　police　searching　the　bushes　and　undergrowth　of　Hampstead　Heath；　while　the　rain　fell　and　pounded　their　misery。　The　report　distressed　her　for　two　reasons；　each　related　to　one　of　the　brothers。　The　first；　that　it　brought　back　memories　of　Charlie；　sitting　in　that　stuffy　little　room　in　the　clinic；　watching　the　heath　and　contemplating　suicide。　The　second；　that　perhaps　this　vendetta　might　endanger　Oscar；　who　was　as　involved　in　occult　practices　as　any　man　alive。
　She　fretted　about　this　for　the　rest　of　the　afternoon；　her　concern　deepening　still　further　when　Oscar　failed　to　return　home　by　six。　She　put　off　dressing　for　the　opera　and　waited　for　him　downstairs；　the　front　door　open；　the　rain　beating　the　bushes　around　the　step。　He　returned　at　six…forty　with　Dowd；　who　had　barely　stepped　through　the　door　before　he　pronounced　that　there　would　be　no　opera　visit　tonight：　Godolphin　contradicted　him　immediately；　much　to　his　chagrin；　telling　Jude　to　go　and　get　ready；　they'd　be　leaving　in　twenty　minutes。
　As　she　dutifully　headed　upstairs；　she　heard　Dowd　say；　〃You　know　McGann　wants　to　see　you？〃
　〃We　can　do　both；〃　Oscar　replied。　〃Did　you　put　out　the　black　suit？　No？　What　have　you　been　doing　all　day？　No；　don't　tell　me。　Not　on　an　empty　stomach。〃
　Oscar　looked　handsome　in　black；　and　she　told　him　so　when；　twenty…five　minutes　later；　he　came　downstairs。　In　response　to　the　pliment；　he　smiled　and　made　a　small　bow。
　〃And　you　were　never　lovelier；〃　he　replied。　〃You　know；　I　don't　have　a　photograph　of　you？　I'd　like　one；　for　my　wallet。　We'll　have　Dowd　organize　it。〃
　By　now；　Dowd　was　conspicuous　by　his　absence。　Most　evenings　he　would　play　chauffeur；　but　tonight　he　apparently　had　other　business。
　〃We're　going　to　have　to　miss　the　first　act；〃　Oscar　said　as　they　drove。　〃I've　got　a　little　errand　to　run　in　Highgate；　if　you'll　bear　with　me。〃　〃I　don't　mind；〃　she　said。
　He　patted　her　hand。　〃It　won't　take　long；〃　he　said。　Perhaps　because　he　didn't　often　take　the　wheel　himself　he　concentrated　hard　as　he　drove；　and　though　the　news　item　she'd　seen　was　still　very　much　in　her　mind　she　was　loath　to　distract　him　with　talk。　They　made　good　time；　threading　their　way　through　the　back　streets　to　avoid　thoroughfares　clogged　by　rain…slowed　traffic；　and　arriving　in　a　veritable　cloudburst。
　〃Here　we　are；〃　he　said；　though　the　windshield　was　so　awash　she　could　barely　see　ten　yards　ahead。　〃You　stay　in　the　warm。　I　won't　be　long。〃
　He　left　her　in　the　car　and　sprinted　across　a　courtyard　towards　an　anonymous　building。　Nobody　came　to　the　front　door。　It　opened　automatically　and　closed　after　him。　Only　when　he'd　disappeared；　and　the　thunderous　drumming　of　the　rain　on　the　roof　had　diminished　somewhat；　did　she　lean　forward　to　peer　out　through　the　watery　windshield　at　the　building　itself。　Despite　the　rain；　she　recognized　instantly　the　tower　from　the　dream　of　blue　eye。　Without　conscious　instruction　her　hand　went　to　the　door　and　opened　it；　as　her　breath　quickened　with　denials。
　〃Oh；　no。　Oh；　no。　。　。。〃
　She　got　out　of　the　car　and　turned　her　face　up　to　the　cold　rain　and　to　an　even　colder　memory。　She'd　let　this　place…　and　indeed　the　journey　that　had　brought　her　here；　her　mind　moving　through　the　streets　touching　this　woman's　grief　and　that　woman's　rage…slip　into　the　dubious　territory　that　lay　between　recollections　of　the　real　and　those　of　the　dreamed。　In　essence；　she'd　allowed　herself　to　believe　it　had　never　happened。　But　here　was　the　very　place；　to　the　window；　to　the　brick。　And　if　the　exterior　was　so　exactly　as　she'd　seen　it；　why　should　she　doubt　that　the　interior　would　be　any　different？
　There'd　been　a　labyrinthine　cellar；　she　remembered；　lined　with　shelves　piled　high　with　books　and　manuscripts。　There'd　been　a　wall　（lovers　coupling　against　it）　and；　behind　it；　hidden　from　every　sight　but　hers；　a　cell　in　which　a　bound　woman　had　lain　in　darkness　for　a　suffering　ag