The Hellfire Club

Margaret, but I'm sure she'll see the potential in it. To tell you the truth, attendance has been suffering lately, and this could turn things around for us.'

'I'm sure Leonard Gimmel and Teddy Brunhoven would be delighted to participate,' Nora said.

Marian swung toward her and raised her eyebrows.

'Driver scholars,' Nora said.

'With luck, we could have everything in place by next spring. Let's discuss these matters with Margaret during dinner, shall we? Now, the rate for your accommodations is ninety-six twenty with the tax, and if you give me a card, you can be on your way to Pepper Pot.'

'Always use cash,' Dart said. 'Pay as you go.'

'That's refreshing.' She watched Dart take his wallet from his trousers and marveled at the number of bills.

Marian made change from a cash box and handed him two keys attached to wooden tabs reading PEPPER POT. 'You'll meet Lily outside the lounge, and I'll be wailing for you when the tour ends. I think we'll all have a lot of fun during your stay.'

'My plans exactly,' Dart said.87

'Should have become a poet a long time ago. If the spouse hadn't been present, I could have planked our new friend right there in her office.'

'You made a big impression on her,' Nora said.

'I bet Maid Marian has freckles in her armpits. For sure she has freckles on the tops of her udders, but do you think she has them on the undersides, too?'

'She probably has freckles on the soles of her feet.'

They had left Main House by the front door and taken the path angling into the woods on the far side of the walled court. Tall oaks interspersed with birches and maples grew on either side of the path. A signpost at a break in the wall pointed to GINGERBREAD, PEPPER POT, RAPUNZEL.

'Isn't it wonderful how everything falls into place when we're together? We show up as ordinary slobs, and two minutes later we're VIPs. We have the run of the place, and on top of that, they're giving us one of the historic old-time Shorelands dinners. Do you understand why?'

'Marian thinks you're hot stuff.'

'That's not the reason. Here's this big place, four or five people in it full-time, tops. Night after night, they have soup and sandwiches in the kitchen, complaining to one another about how business is falling off. Rope in someone they can pretend is a VIP, they have a pretext for a decent meal. These people are starved for a little excitement. In the meantime, we get to see how many people are in the house, find out where their rooms are, check the place out. Couldn't be better.'

Another wooden signpost came into view on the left side of the path. A brown arrow pointed down a narrow lane toward GINGERBREAD.

She looked over her shoulder. 'I wish you hadn't asked for the rope and the duct tape. There's no need for those things.'

'On the contrary. I'll need them twice.'

They reached the sign. Nora looked to her left and saw the faint suggestion of a gray wooden building hidden in the trees. A window glinted in the gray light.

'Twice?'

His mouth twitched. 'In your case, we can probably dispense with the tape. But our old darling is another matter. Physical restraint adds a great deal to the effect. Which one do you fancy, Lily or Agnes?'

She did not reply.

'Like the sound of Agnes. Touch of invalidism, less of a fight. Thinking of your best interests, sweetie.'

'Very kind of you.'

'Let's press on to dear old Salt Shaker or Pepper Grinder or whatever the place is called.'

Wordlessly Nora turned away from Gingerbread, where Katherine Mannheim had probably died in a struggle with Hugo Driver, and began moving up the side of the path. Dart patted her shoulder, and she fought the impulse to pull away from his touch. 'You're going to do fine.' He ruffled the hair at the back of her head.

The path curved around an elephant-sized boulder with a rug of moss on its rounded hips. On the other side of the path a double signpost at the edge of the trees indicated that RAPUNZEL lay beyond a wooden bridge arching over a narrow stream, and PEPPER POT at the end of a narrow trail leading into the woods to their right.

Dart hopped neatly over four feet of glistening mud onto a flat rock, from there onto the grassy verge. He rattled the heavy keys in the air. 'Home, sweet home!'

Nora moved a few feet along her side of the path and found a series of stones and dry spots which took her across.

The trail slanted upward through Douglas firs with shining needles. A small hewn-timber cottage gradually came into view at the end of a clearing. Extending from a shingle roof, a canopy hung over a flat porch. A brick fireplace rose along the side of the cottage, and big windows divided into four panes broke the straight lines of the timbers on both sides of the front door. An addition had been built onto the back by workmen who had attempted to match the timbers with machine-milled planks. No telephone lines came into the house.

'Hear the banjo music?' Dart said. 'The Pinto put me in a shit-kicker's cabin.'

Two or three people made this place by hand,' Nora said. 'And they did a good job.'

Dart drew her up two hewn-timber steps onto the porch. 'Your simple midwestern values make me feel so decadent. In you go.'

They entered a dark room with double beds and pine desks against the walls at either end. In the center of the room a brown sofa and easy chair flanked a coffee table. Along the far wall were a counter, kitchen cabinets, a sink beneath a square window, and an electric range. Heavy clothespresses occupied the far corners of the room, and the apron of the stone fireplace jutted into the wooden floor. Dart locked the door behind them and flipped up a switch, turning on a shaded overhead light and the lamps on the bedside tables.

'Fucking Dogpatch.' He wandered into the kitchen and opened and closed cabinets. 'No minibar, of course.

'Aren't you getting a bottle?'

'If you don't have choices, you might as well live in Russia. How much time do we have? Twenty-five minutes?'

'Just about,' said Nora, grateful that it was not enough for Dick Dart's idea of an enjoyable sexual experience.

'Do you suppose this dump has an actual bathroom?'

She pointed at a door in the rear wall. 'Through there.'

'Let's go. Take your bag.'

Nora questioned him with a look.

'Want to repair your makeup. I can't stand the sight of that mess you made of my work.'

 88

The short, white-haired guide trotted up the steps and bustled forward. She was energetic and cheerful, and she seemed to know several of the people in the group.

'Hello, hello!' Two men in their sixties, like Dick Dart in jackets and ties, one with a gray crew cut, the other bald, greeted her by name. Her smile congealed for a moment when she noticed Dart.

'Here we are,' she said. 'I don't usually lead groups back to back, but I was told that we have a promising young poet with us, and that he specifically asked for me, so I'm delighted to be with you.' She turned her smile to a dark-haired young man who looked like an actor in a soap opera, one of Daisy's Edmunds and Dmitris. 'Are you Mr Desmond?'

Edmund Dmitri looked startled and said, 'No!'

'I'm afraid that's me,' Dart said.

'Oh, now I understand,' she said. 'You have strong opinions, that's only natural. From time to time, Mr Desmond, please feel free to share your insights with the rest of us.'

'Be honored,' Dart said.

She smiled at the group in general. 'Mr Norman Desmond, the poet, will be giving us his special point of view as we go along. I'm sure we'll all find him very interesting, but I warn you, Mr Desmond's ideas can be