The Poe Shadow

by a leash, too.'

The Baron had an agitated manner. 'Make yourself scarce, my dear.'

Bonjour gave me a pitying glare before leaving us alone.

The Baron held up a glass of sherry cobbler. 'The proportion of sherry is decidedly smaller at this hotel than the proportion of water. Still, at least the beds have curtains, a rare enough luxury in America. Do not mind mademoiselle. She believes she depends on me because I saved her, when in fact it is just the opposite. If she were ever to give me the bag, or to be harmed, I would go to pieces. Do not underestimate her arts.'

I had noticed on the writing-desk stacks of paper with widely scribbled notes on them.

'There,' said the Baron with a proud, mischievous grin, seeing my interest. 'There lie all the answers you have been looking for, Brother Quentin, put down in black and white. Of course, I have not perfected my presentation yet, but I will, be sure. But I am afraid'-here he leaned close-'that in the meantime I have the burden of ensuring that nobody troubles me before it is brought into the light of day. Now, who are they, the men Bonjour saw you with? Why are they working with you and Duponte?'

'Baron Dupin,' I said with exasperation, 'I do not know them, do not wish to, and certainly am not leagued with them in any way.'

'You have seen them though, as I have,' he said loftily. 'They have been watching me. There is death upon their eyes. It is dangerous. You have noticed them, surely, while you yourself have acted the spy on me?'

I opened my mouth to speak but was caught off guard.

'I know,' he said, taking my silence as an admission. 'Since I heard Bonjour happened upon you at the wharves, watching her quite closely. I hardly think that would be your usual place of leisure, among the drunkards and the slave-traders. Or perhaps'-he broke into laughter-'you will surprise me yet, Quentin Clark.'

'Then why not stop me, if you knew?'

He swirled his drink. 'Isn't it quite obvious to you? Haven't you learned from your master? It was a desperate measure-Duponte knew he was losing, so he sent you out. The very fact made it clear that I need not defend myself against him. Besides, seeing what you were trying to spy on permitted me to know what Duponte was most interested in-to be a spy is always to be spied upon, monsieur.'

'If you are all-knowing, Baron, I would guess you have already discovered who those two Frenchman are and who sent them.'

He paused, his agitation stirred. 'They are French, then?'

'From their accents, their words, yes. You could coax them to your purposes perhaps, as you did with Dr. Snodgrass.' I wanted to regain some balance in the interview, and make it clear I was not without my own sources of knowledge.

'If they serve certain powerful factions against me for my pecuniary interests back in Paris, I am afraid it is not so simple.'

He spoke in that open tone of his, as though you were firmly on his side of affairs, which made you temporarily forget you were anything but. He had to push aside strands of his hair from his eyes; his hair now looked thin and soapy.

'You see, Brother Quentin, how a man can be pushed to live behind masks. Never able to freely be myself. And I am quite good as myself, yes, monsieur. Thundering good! In the courtroom, all eyes, even those of the lawyers opposing me, would look to me for the truth. I am happy there. I am not ready to hang up my fiddle, not yet.'

'Yet you carry on your cheap charade to bully us,' I protested. 'You mimic Auguste Duponte.'

I noticed a painting of Duponte leaning in the corner of the room. I had seen Von Dantker's work at various stages of progress, and recognized this canvas as his. I could not help remarking on how complete the finished portrait seemed-as though it had completed Duponte himself. It captured his exact likeness but also more than his likeness.

The Baron laughed good-naturedly. 'Has Duponte appreciated the humor of it, Brother Quentin? My small jest among serious business, that is all. Duponte does not know about wearing masks. He believes that if he does not, he will be attached to reality. In fact, without any masks, he is-we are-nothing.'

I thought about that singular pointed grin that Duponte had innovated for his sittings with Von Dantker, which could be seen creeping onto his face in the portrait. A smile that was not really his…Perhaps Duponte did know about wearing masks, after all? I grabbed hold of the portrait and placed it under my arm.

'I shall take this, Baron; it is not your property.'

He shrugged.

I continued, perhaps hoping to induce a bigger reaction, 'You know-you must know-that Duponte shall resolve this. He is the real basis for Dupin.'

'Do you believe that is important to him?'

I cocked my head with interest. It was not the reply I'd expected.

'Has Duponte told you how he and I came to know each other?' The Baron looked at me with a serious air. 'Of course the answer is no,' the Baron went on, shaking his head knowingly. 'No, he too much lives inside himself. Duponte needs to feel people are interested in him, but finds the act of speaking of himself too tiring. We were both in Paris. There was a lady named Catherine Gautier accused of murder, a woman most important to your friend.'

I called to mind the policeman at the cafe in Paris who said changes had come over Duponte when the woman he loved was hanged for murder and he could not stop it. 'Duponte loved her, didn't he?'

'That is nothing! I loved her too. Oh, do not look at me so, like we are in some light novel; I do not mean what you think. No, Duponte and I were not rivals for her affection. But she was attractive enough, and brilliant enough, for any man who knew her to love her. You ask, how could we live in a world where such a woman could be accused of bludgeoning her own sister to death? The idea is absurd.'

Catherine Gautier, the Baron said, was of the poorer class, but virtuous and known as very intelligent. She was Duponte's closest and (some said) only companion. One day, this woman's sister was found murdered in a vile fashion, and Duponte's lover was suspected at once. Because the police were Duponte's enemies after he had embarrassed them by solving crimes they could not, many believed that the accusation represented their reprisal against Duponte by turning against Catherine.

'She was innocent then?'

'Innocent enough' came the Baron's peculiar answer after a pause.

'So you were acquainted with her?'

'Dear friend, has he really never said anything about it? Your companion for so many long months now. Yes, I knew her.' He laughed. 'I was her lawyer, dear man! I defended her against that terrific charge of murder.'

'You?' I asked. 'But she was executed. You never lost a case.'

'Yes, that is true. I suppose that record was somewhat knotted up by Mademoiselle Gautier.'

I looked down, thinking of Duponte's failure. 'Duponte failed to free her. He will return to his glory, though,' I asserted, using the Baron's favorite term, 'now, with Poe.'

'Failed to free her!' the Baron laughed. 'Failed to free her?'

His taunting angered me. I knew Duponte had tried examining the affair himself when Mademoiselle Gautier was arrested, but had given up in despair. I repeated this history to the Baron.

'He tried to examine, is that what you have been told? Why, monsieur, Brother Duponte did examine the matter. He never gave up. He was as successful as always.'

'Successful? How? Do you mean she was not executed after all?'

'I remember vividly,' the Baron began, 'my first visit to the apartments of Auguste Duponte in Paris.'

The Baron Dupin found a place for his hat and stick himself, since Duponte did not offer. The Baron wished for better light. The lawyer found brightness an advantage when demonstrating through the eager motions of the hands and large expressions of the face why cooperation should be offered to him. He did not relish relying on any ordinary routine of persuasion with Auguste Duponte, of course-but circumstances were dire. His career was at a treacherous crossroad. Also, a woman's life was at stake.

The Baron had never been to see Duponte before. He had, like all informed persons in Paris, and like all the criminal-minded, known of Auguste Duponte. The Baron had devised one strict rule as an advocate. He would not accept the case of an accused criminal who had been arrested through the ratiocination of Duponte. The reason