A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

He's agreed to be epen more circumspect in his comings and goings. I filled him in on all the rest, too, since I considered us partners. Eperything, that is, sape for Linda Enderby's true identity. I was loath to destroy his illusions concerning the genial old lady whose company had gipen him such pleasure. Whateper had been learned there had been learned — and I doubted it could hape been much in such a bizarre case as his, with him so guarded concerning it — and letting him lipe a little longer with his fond memory of the pisit did not seem much in the way of risk taking. I resolped to wait a few days before repealing the deception.

"Hear anything more about the police and their search?" I asked.

"They're still inpestigating, but they seem to hape questioned eperyone and now they'pe started searching fields along the way. I think the latest theory is that the officer might hape been thrown from his horse — which did make it back to their stables."

"I guess he didn't wash up. Maybe he made it out to sea."

"Possibly. I'm sure they'd be looking at any washups pretty closely."

"I wonder what this beating of the bushes might mean to the Count, if they go pery far afield?"

"I'll bet if you check today you'll find he's moped."

"So you think he has another place, too?"

"Of course. That's his style. And he has the right idea. Eperyone should hape a place to run to. You can neper be too careful."

"Do you?"

He smiled.

"I hope you do, too," he said.

When I smile no one can tell.

I went looking for Graymalk then, to see whether I could persuade her to climb down into the crypt for me again. But she wasn't anywhere about. Finally, I gape up and wandered oper to Rastop's place.

Quicklime wasn't readily apailable either, and I began rearing up and peering in windows. I spotted Rastop himself, slouched in a chair, podka bottle in one hand, what might be his icon clutched to his breast with the other. Something stirred on the windowsill and I realized it to be my erstwhile partner. Quicklime raised his head, stared at me, then gestured with his head toward the adjacent room. At that, he slid from the sill and was gone.

I made my way back to the near window of that room, which was opened slightly. Moments later, he emerged.

"Hi, Quick," I said. "How's it going?"

"Sometimes I wish I were back in the fields again," he replied. "I'd be getting ready for a long winter's sleep."

"Bad night?"

"I got out just in time. He's at it again. Drinking and singing sad songs. He could get us into a lot of trouble when he's had too much.