'I hope that you're right,' said Wayness. 'Otherwise I'm wasting my time searching where she has already searched.”
Pirie Tamm made no comment; clearly he felt that, in either case, Wayness was wasting her time.
Wayness nevertheless continued her work, but as before found nothing in the Society files which east even a feeble illumination upon Nisfit's dealings.
Days passed, and weeks. Wayness began to encounter moods of discouragement. Her most interesting discovery was a photograph of Nisfit which depicted a thin blond man of indeterminate age, with a high narrow forehead, a trifle of a mustache and a thin down-drooping mouth. It was a face to which she took an instant dislike, representing, as it did, the cause of her frustration.
Further weeks went by, and Wayness could not suppress the conviction that her energies might more profitably be applied elsewhere. Nevertheless, she persevered and every day examined new documents: letters, invoices, receipts; suggestions, complaints, inquiries, reports. All to no purpose; Nisfit had efficiently covered his tracks.
Late one afternoon, her eyelids drooping and her mood close to dejection, Wayness came upon a short passage which evidently had escaped Nisfit’s vigilance. The passage occurred toward the end of a routine letter from a certain Ector van Broude, resident of the city Sancelade, two hundred miles to the northwest. He wrote in regard to a special assessment, but added, as a post-script:
'My friend Ernst Faldeker, employed by the local firm Mischap and Doorn, has commented upon the substantial transactions which you, as Secretary of the Society, have initiated. I seriously question the wisdom of this policy; is it truly far-sighted, and in the best interests of the Society? Please explain to me the reasons for these unusual transactions.' In high excitement Wayness ran to Pirie Tamm and told him of her discovery.
“That is interesting information,“ said Pirie Tamm. “Mischap and Doorn at Sancelade, eh? I think I have heard the name, but I cannot place it offhand. Let us consult a directory.”
In his study, he instituted a search and presently was accorded information. '' ‘Mischap and Doorn: Brokerage, Consignment and Commission Sales.' The firm is still extant, and they are still situated in Sancelade. So there you have it.'
CHAPTER IV
“Perhaps we can resolve the problem within the next five minutes,' said Pirie Tamm. He telephoned the offices of Mischap and Doorn, at Sancelade. The screen flared into luminosity, displaying the red and blue 'Mischap and Doorn' insignia across the top and, in the lower right quadrant, the head and shoulders of a thin-faced young woman with a long thin nose and short blonde hair cut squarely around her head in an uncompromising and rather eccentric style, or so thought Wayness. Her eyes glittered and danced with nervous vitality, but she spoke in the flattest of flat voices: 'Please state your name, occupation, connection and present concerns.'
Pirie Tamm identified himself, and cited his connection with the Naturalist Society.
'Very well, sir what is your business with us?'
Pirie Tamm frowned, displeased with the receptionist's manner. Still, he responded politely. 'A certain Ernst Faldeker was a member of your firm some forty years ago. I expect that he has retired?'
“As to that, I can't say. He certainly is not with us now.'
“Perhaps you will inform me as to his present address.'
'Just a moment, sir.' The young woman's face disappeared.
Pirie Tamm growled aside to Wayness: 'Amazing, is it not? These functionaries think of themselves as angels reclining on clouds, while far below the human ruck supplicates from the mire.”
'She seems very self-possessed,” said Wayness. “I suppose that if she were over-sentimental, she might find it a handicap in her work.”
“Possible, possible.”
The young woman's face returned. “I find that I am not authorized to issue this sort of information.”
“Well then, who is?”
“Berle Buffums is our present office manager. Would you care to speak with him? He has nothing better to do at the moment.”
An odd remark, thought Wayness. 'Please connect me,' said Pirie Tamm.
The screen blanked. A moment passed. The agile and vivacious face returned. “Mr. Buffums is in conference at the moment and cannot be disturbed.” Pirie Tamm gave a grunt of annoyance. “Perhaps you can tell me this much. Your firm handled some business for the Naturalist Society — let me think — it must have been over forty years ago. I am anxious to learn the disposition of the goods involved.”
The receptionist laughed. “If I let slip a hint of such information, Bully Buffums would have my gizzard. He is, shall we say, obsessive in regard to confidentiality. I could easily be bribed, were it not that Bully Buffums locks away the Confidential files.'
'A pity. Why is he so careful?'
“I don't know. He explains his fiats to no one, least of all me.'
“Thank you for your courtesy.' Pirie Tamm broke the connection. Slowly he turned to Wayness. “It seems a curious firm, even for Old Earth. It is perhaps because they are based at Sancelade, an extraordinary city in itself.'
“At least we have a clue, or a lead-in, or whatever it should be called.”
“True. It is a start.”
“I will go at once to Sancelade. Perhaps, one way or another, I can persuade Berle Buffums to release his information.”
Pirie Tamm heaved a sad sigh. “With all my heart I curse this damnable ailment, which distresses me more than you can know! My manhood is lost; I feel like a frail old goblin creeping and limping about the house, while you, a slip of a girl go forth on the work I should be doing!”
'Please, Uncle Pirie! Don’t say such things. You do what you can and I do what I can, and that is the way it shall be.'
Pirie Tamm patted Wayness’ head: one of his few expressions of affection. “I will say no more. Our goal is larger than either of us. Still, I don’t want you to be threatened, or hurt, or even so much as frightened.”
'I am quite cautious, Uncle Pirie. Most of the time, anyway. Now I must go to Sancelade and learn what I can from Mischap and Doorn.”
'So it would seem,' said Pirie Tamm, through without conviction. 'I need not point out that you will face a number of challenges, among them Berle Buffums.”
Wayness gave a nervous laugh. 'I hope to escape with my life, at least, and — who knows? — maybe the Charter.”
Pirie Tamm made a gruff sound. “I must reiterate that Sancelade is a peculiar place, with a remarkable history.” Pirie Tamm went on to provide Wayness with a few salient facts. The old city, he told her, had been completely destroyed during the so-called ‘Alienate Convulsion’ [6]. For two hundred years it remained a desolate waste, until the autocrat Tybalt Pimm ordained a new city for the site. He specified every aspect of the new Sancelade in exact detail, using a variant of the same complicated architecture for each of the six districts.
At the time Tybalt Pimm's great scheme evoked mockery and jeers, but in due course the derision became muted, and in the end Sancelade was considered the masterwork of a genius gifted in equal parts with imagination, energy and unlimited funds.
Pimm's theories and proscriptions were long enforced, Though at times they became a trifle blurred. The Kyprian Quarter, for instance, which Pimm had designated as the District for light industry, trade schools, inexpensive restaurants and social halls, instead became the resort of artists, musicians, vagabonds and mystics
