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e and waited for Dowd to instruct them。 Oscar was less than fortable in their pany； but could not bring himself to leave until this business was finished。 He'd brought a book to read： a cricket almanac that he found soothing to peruse。 Every now and then he'd get up and refuel the bowls。 Otherwise there was little to do but wait。
It had already been a day and a half since he'd made such a show of taking Dowd's life： a performance of which he was justly proud。 But the casualty that lay before him was a real loss。 Dowd had been passed down the line of Godolphins for two centuries； bound to them until the end of time or of Joshua's line； whichever came first。 And he had been a fine manservant。 Who else could mix a whisky and soda so well？ Who else knew to dry and powder between Oscar's toes with special care； because he was prone to fungal infections there？ Dowd was irreplaceable； and it had pained Oscar considerably to take the brutal measures circumstance had demanded。 But he'd done so knowing that while there was a slim possibility that he would lose his servant forever； an entity such as Dowd could survive a disemboweling as long as the rituals of Resurrection were readily and precisely followed。 Oscar was not in ignorance of those rituals。 He'd spent many lazy Yzordderrexian evenings on the roof of Peccable's house； watching the tail of the et disappear behind the towers of the Autarch's palace； talking about the theory and practice of Imajical feits； writs； pneumas； uredos； and the rest。 He knew the oils to pour into Dowd's carcass； and what blossoms to burn around the body。 He even had in his treasure room a phonetic version of the ritual； set down by Peccable himself； in case Dowd was ever harmed。 He had no idea how long the process would take； but he knew better than to peer beneath the sheet to see if the bread of life was rising。 He could only bide his time and hope he'd done all that was necessary。
At four minutes past four； he had proof of his precision。 A choking breath was drawn beneath the sheet； and a second later Dowd sat up。 The motion was so sudden； and… after such a time…so unexpected； Oscar panicked； his chair tipping over as he rose； the almanac flying from his hand。 He'd seen much in his time that the people of the Fifth would call miraculous； but not in a dismal room like this； with the monplace world grinding on its way outside the door。 posing himself； he searched for a word of wele； but his mouth was so dry he could have blotted a letter with his tongue。 He simply stared； gaping and amazed。
Dowd had pulled the sheet off his face and was studying the hand with which he'd done so； his face as empty as the eyes of the voiders sitting against the opposite wall。
I've made a terrible error； Oscar thought。 I've brought back the body； but the soul's gone out of him： Oh； Christ； what now？
Dowd stared on； blankly。 Then； like a puppet into which a hand has been inserted； bringing the illusion of life and independent purpose to senseless stuff； he raised his head； and his face filled with expression。 It was all anger。 He narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth as he spoke。
〃You did me a great wrong；〃 he said。 〃A terrible wrong。〃
Oscar worked up some spittle； thick as mud。 〃I did what I deemed necessary；〃 he replied； determined not to be cowed by the creature。 It had been bound by Joshua never to do a Godolphin harm； much as it might presently wish to。
〃What have I ever done to you that you humiliate me that way？〃 Dowd said。
〃I had to prove my allegiance to the Tabula Rasa。 You understand why。〃
〃And must I continue to be humiliated？〃 he said。 〃Can I not at least have something to wear？〃
〃Your suit's stained。〃
〃It's better than nothing；〃 Dowd replied。
The garments lay on the floor a few feet from where Dowd sat； but he made no move to pick them up。 Aware that Dowd was testing the limits of his master's remorse； but willing to play the game for a while at least； Oscar picked up the clothes and laid them within Dowd's reach。
〃I knew a knife wasn't going to kill you；〃 he said。
〃It's more than I did；〃 Dowd replied。 〃But that's not the point。 I would have entered the game with you if that's what you'd wanted。 Happily； slavishly。 Entered and died for you。〃 His tone was that of a man deeply and inconsola…Wy affronted。 〃Instead； you conspire against me。 You make me suffer like a mon criminal。〃
〃I couldn't afford for it to look like a charade。 If they'd suspected it was stage…managed…〃
〃Oh； I see；〃 Dowd replied。 Unwittingly Oscar had caused even greater offense with this justification。 〃You didn't trust my actorly instincts。 I've played every lead Quexos wrote： edy； tragedy； farce。 And you didn't trust me to carry off a petty little death scene！〃
〃All right； I was mistaken。〃
〃I thought the knife stung badly enough。 But this…〃
〃Please； accept my apologies。 It was crude and hurtful。 What can I do to heal the harm； eh？ Name it； Dowdy。 I feel I've violated the trust between us and I have to make good。 Whatever you want； just name it。〃
Dowd shook his head。 〃It's not as easy as that。〃
〃I know。 But it's a start。 Name it。〃
Dowd considered the offer for a full minute； staring not at Oscar but the blank wall。 Finally； he said； 〃I'll start with the assassin； Pie 'oh' pah。〃
〃What do you want with a mystif？〃
〃I want to torment it。 I want to humiliate it。 And finally； I want to kill it。〃
〃Why？〃
〃You offered me whatever I wanted。 Name it； you said。 I've named it。〃
〃Then you have carte blanche to do whatever you wish；〃 Oscar said。 〃Is that all？〃
〃For now；〃 Dowd said。 〃I'm sure something more will occur。 Death's put some strange ideas in my head。 But I'll name them as time goes by。〃
14
While it was to prove difficult for Gentle to prize from Es…tabrook the details of the night journey that had taken him to Pie （oh' pah； it was not as difficult as getting in to see the man in the first place。 He went to the house around noon； to find the curtains at all the windows meticulously drawn。 He knocked and rang the bell for several minutes； but there was no reply。 Assuming Estabrook had gone out for a constitutional； he left off his attempt and went to find something to put into his stomach； which after being so thoroughly scorned the night before was echoing with its own emptiness。 It was Boxing Day； of course； and there was no cafe or restaurant open； but he located a small supermarket managed by a family of Pakistanis； who were doing a fine trade supplying Christians with stale bread to break。 Though the stock had disappeared from many of the shelves； the store still had a tempting parade of tooth decayers； and Gentle left with chocolate； biscuits； and cake to satisfy his sweet tooth。 He found a bench and sat down to subdue his hunger。 The cake was too moist and heavy for his taste； so he broke it up into pieces and threw it to the pigeons his meal had attracted。 The news soon spread that there was sustenance to be had； and what had been an intimate picnic quickly turned into a squabbling match。 In lieu of loaves and fishes to subdue the mob； Gentle tossed the rest of his biscuits into the midst of the feasters and returned to Estabrook's house content with his chocolate。 As he approached he saw a motion at one of the upper windows。 He didn't bother to ring and knock this time； but simply called up at the window。
〃I want a word； Charlie！ I know you're in there。 Open up！〃
When there was no sign of Estabrook obliging； he let his voice ring out a little louder。 There was very little petition from traffic； this being a holiday。 His call was a clarion。
〃e on； Charlie； open up； unless you want me to tell the neighbors about our little deal。〃
The curtain was drawn aside this time； and Gentle had his first sight of Estabrook。 A glimpse only； for the curtain was dropped back into place a moment later。 Gentle waited； and just as he was about to start his haranguing afresh heard the front door being unbolted。 Estabrook appeared； barefoot and bald。 The latter was a shock。 Gentle hadn't known the man wore a toupe〃e。 Without it his face was as round and white as a plate； his features set upon it like a child's breakfast。 Eggs for eyes； a tomato nose； sausage lips： all swimming in a grease of fear。
〃It's time we talked；〃 Gentle said and； without waiting for anjnvitation； stepped inside。
He pulled no punches in his interrogation； making it plain from the outset that this was no social call。 He needed to know where to find Pie 'oh' pah； and he wasn't going to be fobbed off with excuses。 To aid Estabrook's memory he'd brought a battered street map of London。 He set it down on the table between them。
〃Now；〃 he said。 〃We sit here until you've told where you went that night。 And if you lie to me I swear I'm'going to e back and break your neck。〃
Estabrook didn't attempt any obfuscation。 His manner was that of a man who had passed many days in terror of a sound upon his step and was relieved； now that it had e； that his caller was merely human。 His egg eyes were perpetually on the verge of breaking； and his hands trembled as he flipped the pages of the gazetteer； murmuring as he did so that he was sure of nothing but he would try to remember。 Gentle didn't