decided to take it.
'Mr. Linch?' Matthew said, standing close to the door. 'What interests you so much about the Egyptian culture?'
A pot clattered to the floor within.
Matthew stepped away from the door several paces. He waited, his hands clasped behind his back. A latch was thrown with violent force. But the door was not fairly ripped from its hinges in being opened, as Matthew had expected. Instead, there was a pause.
Control, Matthew thought. Control is Linch's religion, and he's praying to his god. The door was opened. Slowly.
But just a crack. 'Egyptian culture? What're you blatherin' about, boy?'
'You know what I mean. The book in your desk.'
Again, a pause. Something about it this time was ominous.
'Ohhhhh, it was you come in my house and gone through my things, eh?' Now the door opened wider, and Linch's clean but unshaven face peered out. His pale, icy gray eyes were aimed at Matthew with the power of weapons, his teeth bared in a grin. 'I found your shoemud on my floor. You didn't shut my trunk firm enough, either. Have to be blind not to see it was open a quarter-inch.'
'You're very observant, aren't you? Does that come from catching rats?'
'It does. I see, though, I let a whorin' mother's two-legged rat creep in and nibble my cheese.'
'Interesting cheese, too, ' Matthew said, maintaining his distance from the door. 'I would never have imagined you... how shall I say this?... lived in such virtuous order, from the wreck you've allowed the exterior of your house to become. I also would never have imagined you to be a scholar of ancient Egypt.'
'There is a law, ' Linch said, his grin still fixed and his eyes still aimed, 'against enterin' a man's house without bein' invited. I believe in this town it's ten lashes. You care to tell Bidwell, or you want me to?'
'Ten lashes.' Matthew frowned and shook his head. 'I would surely hate to suffer ten lashes, Mr. Linch.'
'Fifteen, if I can prove you thieved any thin'. And you know what? I might just be missin' a...'
'Sapphire brooch?' Matthew interrupted. 'No, that's in the drawer where I left it.' He offered Linch a tight smile.
The ratcatcher's expression did not change, though there might have been a slight narrowing of the eyes. 'You're a cocksure bastard, ain't you? But you're good. I'll grant you that. You knotted the twine back well enough to fool me... and I ain't fooled very often.'
'Oh, I think it's you who does the fooling, Mr. Linch. What is this masquerade about?'
'Masquerade? You're talkin' riddles, boy!'
'Now you just said an interesting word, Mr. Linch. You yourself are a riddle, and one I mean to solve. Why is it that you present yourself to the town as being... and let us be plainspoken here... a roughhewn and filthy dolt, when you actually are a man of literacy and good order? Meticulous order, I might say. And need I add the point of your obvious financial status, if indeed that brooch belongs to you?'
From Linch there was not a word nor a trace of reaction but Matthew could tell from the glint of his extraordinary eyes that the man's mind was working, grinding these words into a fine dust to be weighed and measured.
'I suspect that even your harborfront accent is shammed, ' Matthew went on. 'Is it?'
Linch gave a low, quiet laugh. 'Boy, your brainpan has been dented. If I were you, I'd either go get drunk or ask the town quack for a cup of opium.'
'You are not who you pretend to be, ' Matthew said, defying the man's cutting stare. 'Therefore... who are you?'
Linch paused, thinking about it. Then he licked his lower lip and said, 'Come on in and we'll have us a talk.'
'No, thank you. I do enjoy the sun's warmth. Oh... I also spoke to one of the maskers as I passed their camp. If I were to... suffer an accident, say... I'm sure the man would recall I'd been walking in this direction.'
'Suffer an accident? What foolishness are you prattlin'? No, come on in and I'll spell you what you care to know. Come on.' Linch hooked a finger at him.
'You may spell me what I care to know right here as well as in there.'
'No, I can't. 'Sides, my breakfast is coolin'. Tell you what: I'll open all the shutters and leave the door wide. That suit you?'
'Not really. I have noticed a dearth of neighbors in this vicinity.'
'Well, either come in or not, 'cause I'm done with this chat-tin'.' He opened the door to its widest possible degree and walked away. Soon afterward, the nearest window was opened, the shutters pushed as far as their hinges would allow. Then the next window was opened, and afterward the third and fourth.
Matthew could see Linch, wearing tan-colored breeches and a loose-fitting gray shirt, busying himself around the hearth. The interior of the house appeared just as painstakingly neat as Matthew had previously seen it. He realized that he'd begun a duel of nerves with the ratcatcher, and this challenge to come into the house was the riposte to his own first slash concerning Linch's interest in Egyptian culture.
Linch stirred something in a skillet and added what might have been spices from a jar. Then, seemingly unconcerned with Matthew, he fetched a wooden plate and spooned food onto it.
Matthew watched as Linch sat down at his desk, placed the plate before him, and began to eat with a display of mannered restraint. Matthew knew nothing was to be gained by standing out here, yet he feared entering the ratcatcher's house even with the door and every window open wide. Still... the challenge had been given, and must be accepted.
Slowly and cautiously, he advanced first to the doorway, where he paused to gauge Linch's reaction. The ratcatcher kept eating what looked to be a mixture of eggs, sausage, and potatoes all cooked together. Then, even more cautiously, Matthew walked into the house but stopped with the threshold less than an arm's length behind him.
Linch continued to eat, using a brown napkin to occasionally wipe his mouth. 'You have the manners of a gentleman, ' Matthew said.
'My mother raised me right, ' came the reply. 'You won't find me stealin' into private houses and goin' through people's belonging.'
'I presume you have an explanation for the book? And the brooch as well?'
'I do.' Linch looked out the window that his desk stood before. 'But why should I explain anythin' to you? It's my business.'
'That's true enough. On the other hand, can't you understand how... uh... strange this appears?'
'Strange is one of them things in the eye of the beholder now, ain't it?' He put his spoon and knife down and turned his chair a few inches so that he was facing Matthew more directly. The movement made Matthew back away apace. Linch grinned. 'I scare you, do I?'
'Yes, you do.'
'Well, why should you be scared of me? What have I ever done to you, 'cept save your ass from bein' et up by rats there in the gaol?'
'You've done nothing to me, ' Matthew admitted. He was ready to deliver the next slash. 'I just wonder what you may have done to Violet Adams.'
To his credit—and his iron nerves—Linch only exhibited a slight frown. 'Who?'
'Violet Adams. Surely you know the child and her family.'
'I do They live up the street. Cleaned some rats out for 'em not too long ago. Now what am I supposed to have done to that little girl? Pulled her dress up and poked her twat?'
'No, nothing so crude... or so obvious, ' Matthew said. 'But I have reason to believe that you may have —'
Linch suddenly stood up and Matthew almost jumped out the door.
'Don't piss your breeches, ' Linch said, picking up his empty plate. 'I'm gettin' another helpin'. You'll pardon me if I don't offer you none?'
Linch went to the hearth, spooned some more of the breakfast onto his plate, and came back to his chair. When he sat down, he turned the chair a few more inches toward Matthew so that now they almost directly faced
