The Player on the Other Side (6 page)

‘Let me see that!' Percival rocked forward and snatched the paper from Archer. He scowled through it and then gave the embarrassed Archer a long calculating look. Percival opened his mouth, closed it again and handed the legal document back.

‘Emily?' said Robert York.

The social worker took the paper and read it swiftly. ‘Of course I don't pretend to understand this sort of thing,' she said. ‘But since it does, you know, specify — I mean, it sets out exactly —' She stopped to frown slightly. ‘I mean to say, it isn't a
general
power, is it? So I suppose it's all right.' Then, as if what she had said sounded like an objection, she nodded to Archer. ‘Quite all right, Mr. Archer.'

Archer (charmingly, to judge by Ann Drew's face) blushed and delivered a little grateful bow.

‘For someone who knows nothing about this sort of thing, my dear Emily,' said Robert York rather dryly, ‘you understand very well.' He coughed, this time once. ‘So much for that. Now, there is one other matter —'

‘You didn't show it to Myra,' Percival said nastily.

‘Yes? Yes?' Myra York looked to right, left, above, below, quickly, alertly. All quite meaningless.

‘I thought,' snapped Emily to the family skeleton, ‘you were in a hurry to finish this!'

‘Not at all, Cuddles,' grinned Percival. ‘It's just that I didn't want to come. But now that we're here, let's do it right, shall we?'

‘It's all right, Myra,' Robert York said hastily. ‘Just a legal thing. You may see it if you'd like.'

Myra looked intelligent. ‘If it's all right,' she said brightly, ‘then it's all right.'

Robert York glared at his cousin Percival. ‘Leaving that, then, I shall bring up one other matter before proceeding with our ordinary business.' From behind his display handkerchief he pulled a monarch-sized envelope, the cheap flat-finished kind obtainable everywhere. From it he took a five-sided card. ‘Which one of you is responsible for this nonsense?'

There was a moment of puzzled silence. Then Emily demanded curiously, ‘What on earth
is
it?'

Severe-lipped, Robert York handed her the card.

‘J,' said Emily, ‘hmm,' and turned it over twice.

Robert extended his hand for it, but Percival had it first. ‘Hmm!' said Percival through flared nostrils.

Myra, her woolly attention caught by the traveling scrap of cardboard, asked, ‘What
is
it?' worriedly. Ann Drew leaned over and took it from Percival and handed it to her.

‘What
is
it?' Myra said, exactly as before.

‘Nothing dear, nothing really,' said Ann.

‘I disagree, Miss Drew,' said Robert York. ‘Indeed, I must once more ask — demand!: Which of you is responsible for this?'

‘Not me,' said Percival, so instantly that Robert turned on him a stare of profound suspicion.

‘Heavens, Robert,' Emily said. ‘It's just somebody's idea of a joke.'

‘I fail to see anything humorous in it,' said Robert. ‘Can you, Archer?'

Archer started from his hungry appraisal of Ann Drew. ‘Well, sir, in line with your bisect theory, it might be some kind of advertising teaser was what I thought.'

Robert snorted. ‘Did any of you get one of these foul things?' There was a general denial. ‘Then why should
I
be the only one to get one?'

‘You did mention the bisect thing, Mr. York,' Archer murmured.

‘Well, I've changed my mind, Archer,' said Robert testily. ‘Anyway, it would hardly interest my cousins.'

‘If it would explain your childish concern about this, Robert,' said Emily brusquely, ‘
I'd
like to hear it.'

There was at that moment a thump on the door in the north wall, opposite the hall entrance. Myra York shot to her feet, Ann Drew rising with her. ‘Someone's in there!' quavered Myra.

Archer strode to the door and snatched it open, while Ann shushed and ‘There, dear!'-ed, patted and stroked her.

Walt stood revealed. He did not recoil as the door was flung aside. His round eyes seemed as encompassing as an owl's, and his small full moist mouth was not pursed and did not tremble. He looked about the roomful of faces — angry, startled, puzzled, frightened faces — and when he came to Ann Drew he said dully, ‘It's fixed, miss.'

‘Thank you, Walt.' Ann's clear soft voice cut across the moment's confusion. ‘The kitchen sink,' she explained. ‘It's been slow.'

‘I found this in the trap,' Walt said. He held out a small object. Archer, who was nearest him, took it. ‘A ring.'

‘Walt found your ring, dear,' said Ann to Myra York. To Emily, who was wearing her how-can-other-people-be-so-careless look, the girl was moved to explain, ‘It isn't a valuable one at all, just costume jewelry. Here, dear,' and she took the ring from Archer and gave it to Myra.

‘While you're here, Walt,' said Robert York, ‘tell me something. Did you ever get anything like this in the mail?' He leaned toward Walt with the card. Walt stepped into the room and took the card without expression. Also without response.

‘Well? Well?' said Robert. ‘Have you or have you not received a card like this in the mail?'

‘With a J on it?' Walt inquired.

‘With
anything
on it?'

‘No, Mr. Robert.'

‘Have you any idea what it might mean?'

‘No, Mr. Robert.' Walt handed the card back.

‘Very well, then,' said Robert York, and produced one of the imperious motions of the hand so characteristic of him — gestures he himself seemed quite unaware of. Walt apparently took it as a dismissal, for he blinked his round eyes once and backed through the door, closing it after him.

‘Well?' Emily demanded. ‘What
is
the “bisect thing”?'

Robert York twitched his head in irritation, and Tom Archer said, ‘It was just a thought of Mr. York's. In 1847 the U.S. issued a ten-cent black stamp. In those days, when a post office ran out of — say — its supply of five-centers, it wasn't unusual for a postmaster to make some out of his supply of ten-cent denominations simply by cutting them in half and selling the halves. Some exist on cover that were bisected vertically, others horizontally and still others diagonally — that is, cut from an upper corner to the lower corner opposite.

‘Well, there's long been a rumour among philatelists about a supposed error among the 1847 black diagonal bisects. The story goes that some postmaster, instead of cutting diagonally from corner to corner, carelessly snipped a small triangular piece off the top corner of the stamps, so that what was, left was actually five-sided — shaped something like this card. Since one of these, if it were found on cover, would be very rare — in fact, unique as far as we know — it would also be immensely valuable. Mr. York thought that maybe some stamp hunter's found such a piece and is taking this means of working up Mr. York's interest in it.'

‘Well,' said Emily York, ‘that's just silly enough to explain it.'

‘All but the J,' said Percival, adding a heh-heh sound.

Robert was scarlet. He snatched the card and flicked it, a tiny gesture expressing immensities of aggravation. ‘The J could be the fellow's initial, or — or something like that! Anyway, I
said
I'd changed my mind!' He dropped card and envelope into the open attaché case beside his chair. The scarlet remained, and when he spoke his voice held all the wistful anger of a simple-minded, clumsy-fingered man in a world of swift thinkers and capable hands. ‘I don't understand it. I don't like things I can't understand!'

‘Then forget it, Robert,' said Emily impatiently, ‘I'm late. Can't we push on? Is there anything important on the agenda?'

‘Yes-by-God-there-is.' It was an ugly snarl, Percival's. His glance impaled his cousin Robert. ‘I'm going to say this exactly once, and you'd better take it to heart: You keep messing up my charge accounts, Robert, and I'll-squash-you-by-God-like-a-by-God-roach!'

Robert York looked at Percival York wide-eyed, his yellow-pink skin turning yellow-gray. He glanced, startled, from face to face (Is it possible he's talking to me?), and finally back to Percival. (He
is
talking to me!) ‘I don't know what you mean, Percival.'

‘Don't add lying to your other talents, you double-crossing two-faced, sneaky-hearted little would-be Napoleon,' said Percival. ‘You know perfectly well you put her up to it.'

‘Her?' said Robert, again taking inventory of the familiar faces. (Emily's was a firm pink, but in his bewilderment Robert was color-blind.)

‘Just don't you meddle in my private concerns again, that's all I'm going to tell you. Just don't, Robert. I warn you. I can do more kinds of damage than your rabbity little brain can imagine, and if this happens once more —
anything goes.
'

‘But I don't know what you mean,' was all the agitated Robert could find to say.

Percival showed his unlovely teeth in a wolfish grin, and he rose so suddenly that Robert shrank back. But all Percival did was to snatch up his homburg and stride from the room.

‘But, Percival, what about —?' Robert mutely lifted the ledger from his lap.

Percival's reply was to
blam
! the front door.

Myra York clung hard to Ann Drew's hands. ‘Who was
that
?'

‘Shh, dear. It's all right,' Ann whispered.

Robert surprisingly said, ‘I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry.'

‘It isn't your fault,' said Archer, as consoling in his way as the girl was in hers.

‘It most certainly is not,' said Emily definitely. She seemed about to say more, but she hesitated and was lost.

‘We'll get on, then,' Robert said, wetting his lips — apparently to no purpose, for he had to do it again. ‘Now. We have a bill here for, ah — yes! — lawn fertilizer for the park. This of course will come from the general fund. And … I have a notation of breakage of a gold-trimmed meat platter from the Nathaniel York, Senior, Collection. Although it was broken in Myra's house by the housekeeper, it really belonged to all of us. So replacement cost should perhaps come from the general fund —'

‘It was a horrible thing,' snapped Emily, back on safe ground. ‘Good riddance.'

‘Or on the other hand,' continued Robert, ‘should it come out of the woman's wages? Archer, what was the inventory value of the platter?'

‘A hundred and eighty dollars, sir.'

‘She really doesn't break very much,' said Ann Drew timidly.

‘Good riddance,' Emily said again. ‘Write it off, Robert.'

Robert looked from face to face, then made a mark in the ledger. ‘Very well. But naturally this must not continue. Now, ah … yes … Walt reports a broken curbstone in front of Percival's house. Percival really ought to be here to discuss this,' he added fretfully. ‘Why on earth do you suppose —?'

‘Forget it
and
him,' Emily said hastily. ‘Please, Robert get on with it. It's
late.
'

So Robert York got on with it — the prorating of a tax charge; the distribution of an insurance refund; the recurrent argument over whether the Family or the Help, who were paid on the first of each month, should stand the loss of the extra day in thirty-one-day months — a standing controversy between Emily York who was staunch for the rights of Labor, and Robert York, who was just as sturdy a defender of the prerogatives of the Employer, with the invariable result of ‘Tabled Until Our Next Meeting.'

These meetings, they all realized, were more a fussy ritual than a necessity; their business could easily have been taken care of by one delegated person, with perhaps an occasional telephone call to one or more of the others. But so it had been decided when they took up their several residences in York Square (at the strange behest of the dead Nathaniel, Senior) and so it would be until death again intervened in their lives.

Robert York, still reacting to his cousin Percival's mysterious outbreak, concentrated on the petty agenda almost gratefully. Emily stuck with it because it was a Duty, and Duties were her life. Archer, full of his new responsibilities, bent to the task sincerely. Myra York paid close attention to an invisible something in a middle distance of Space and Time, and Ann Drew paid close attention to Tom Archer. Until at last it was done, the last entry posted in the ledger, the last item noted on the list of checks to be drawn, signed and mailed out in the morning; and at last, the fixing of the date for the next meeting (always the second business day after the first day of the next month, a formula which invariably confused everyone but Robert). And then they went their ways: Emily to her unwed mothers; Myra to her bed; Ann to an innocent rendezvous with Archer after putting Myra there; and Robert to his study and the ever-engrossing plans for the grand cataloguing of his stamp collections.

No one, of course, checked up on Myra York after she was tucked in. Ann Drew and Tom Archer unaccountably missed one another. It happened that Robert did not get to work on his cataloguing plans after all. Emily was much later than she had planned in reaching her meeting. And no one knew just what Percival was up to (but then no one ever did).

It was just one of those days.

7

Attack

He sat alone in a hotel room. The bed had not been slept in, the two thin towels were untouched. On a cheap portable typewriter, working slowly and carefully, pausing only to adjust the machine to align exactly with the ruled lines on the tablet paper he was using, without even an error and with the even touch possible only to two-fingered typists of long practice, he was writing:

… and you will spend the morning trimming the ivy on the tower of Robert York's castle. When it is time for lunch, you will leave your shears on the tower and come down. You will go out by the front door this time, so that you may pass the door of his study.