particularly with the nonhuman spirits—elementals and so forth.”
“Demons, Mademoiselle?”
The witch hesitated, then nodded guardedly. “They have other, and better, names; but occasionally, yes.”
Illingworth smiled, showing a row of teeth as white and uniform as cups on a shelf. “I’ve been by the Free house, you know. I thought I caught a whiff of sulfur.”
“You are interested in him yourself, then.”
“Only on your King’s behalf, my dear. We’d spoken earlier—”
The King nodded confirmation.
“—and of course he gave me the address. As it happens Mr. Free and I had—ah—certain mutual friends, so I was quite concerned when I heard he was missing and perhaps deceased. I thought his home might hold some indication of his whereabouts.”
He sighed. “I found nothing. That is, nothing indicative of his present situs. A rifle that might have slain red men in its day, and a watch with a picture of a lovely lady dead, I suppose, well over a century. Beautiful old things left behind in an abandoned house, though I have taken them under my aegis now. We whose interests run beyond the marches of the visible world, beyond the fields we know, as Lord Dunsany once so finely put it while we were musing at White’s, we are prone to an itching discontent of place—”
“Regular Gypsies,” the King added helpfully.
“Precisely so, sir. Precisely. I would suppose I have myself, in a lifetime, I grant, more than notably long, slept in a hundred beds, hotels and such-like temporary accommodations excepted. At one time or another, I’ve made my abode on every continent, excepting only Australia and Antarctica; and though I’ve not relocated now for over thirty years and am as I suppose a bit long in the tooth for Antarctica, I might adventure Australia yet. Indeed, the warm, sunny, dry climate that characterizes so much of that ‘Land of the Southern Wind’ would seem more suited to my old age than our savage winters. I have sojourned upon many islands too, of which Great Britain was the largest and Capri perhaps the best. It has been spoiled now, I am given to understand, by tourists. Tiberius Caesar said much the same thing.”
“You were speaking of Benjamin Free,” the witch reminded him.
“So I was, my dear. I only meant to say that an examination of his mementos led me to suspect that he was not—I will not say an initiate, but not an initiate as I have been accustomed to using that term. I doubt that he was ever admitted by others to a knowledge of the occult mysteries, to the ceremonies and services of the Secret Masters; although he may well have been one of those persons—more common than we are wont to suppose, if I may say so—who have acquired occult power and even occult authority by developing their superphysical capacities.”
“I’m sure you are correct,” said the witch, who was happy to have this shadowy old man believe Free unimportant. “Nevertheless, I would be glad to find him, and grateful for whatever help you can give me. He was kind to me, and I would like to repay him, if he is still among the living and in difficulties; and I feel certain he had something yet to teach me.”
Illingworth gave the King a broad wink. “And what payment do you offer for my services, Mademoiselle? I will not ask for that little hand in marriage; I fear there might be royal objections, although I feel sure we should be as happy—in the words of that other Benjamin, that marvelous old Franklin who used to visit the Hell Fire Club—as two bugs in a rug. No, I won’t even request it for a son or grandson, for I have none, though they would be the luckiest boys in the world now if I did. But what about a kiss, my dear? Do you think you could bear to kiss this raddled old cheek, for such a prize?”
“You’ve found him!” the witch exclaimed.
“My dear friend,” Illingworth turned to the King. “You are the luckiest man on earth, do you know that? Your subject here is a woman of such surpassing loveliness that she is beautiful even with mouth agape. You kings have all the best of it anyway, enjoying the pleasures of the
“Where is he?” The witch caught Illingworth by the sleeve.
“Well, now,” he said. “Well, now, I suppose I should tell you about it. You don’t object to my smoking?”
“Not at all; I would like one myself. I have no more of my own.”
He opened a large, old-fashioned silver cigarette case. “They’re Players, I’m afraid. One keeps up the old habits, the dear old luxuries, and they become more luxurious every year, and more dear. There’s a little tobacconist’s down on Fourth Street that stocks them for me. I warn you, they’re strong for American tastes.”
The King said, “I’m a cigar smoker, Cas. I’ll try one.”
Illingworth bent forward with the case. “An honor—ah—Your Majesty.”
“Just King. Call me King.”
“And a light. A light for you, Mademoiselle? And for myself now, if you will excuse me.”
“Is he safe?”
Illingworth puffed smoke, a smoldering old dragon. “Hmm? Oh, Mr. Free. Why, yes, so far as I know. Perfectly. I don’t really know the people who have him, you see—”
“Have him?”
“Perhaps I should explain. When your king communicated with me, mentioning the names, I might add, of certain esteemed mutual acquaintances, and informing me of Mr. Free’s disappearance and his own concern therefor, it struck me, and indeed I might say struck me almost at once, that I had heard the name. Have I mentioned, my dear, that I have the honor to be the editor and publisher of both
“I know that,” the witch said impatiently, but Illingworth was looking at a corner of the ceiling, or possibly the visage of posterity, and did not appear to hear her.
