The Sorcerer's House (7 page)

"That's a fire opal, I believe, the best I've ever seen. What did you pay for it?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this." I went to my box. No check. I had not really expected one, but not getting one did nothing to improve my mood. When I turned around, the jeweler was still there. I went past him without a word.

The truth, George, is that I was terribly tempted to sell him Doris's husband's wedding ring. It is plain gold, but wide, and large enough to be a little loose on my finger. I would think that even the pawn shop would give me a hundred dollars for it.

I am very glad now that I did not. Both sides of my face are swollen, and the pain on the left side is really quite bad; but I think that if I had sold or pawned that ring I might very well be dead.

What I did instead was return here and go back up into the attic in the hope of finding something I might use or pawn.

There is a good deal of old, heavy, black furniture up there, filthy with dust. Much of it I could have used, and still more of it might have fetched a decent price from an antique dealer.

Which did me no good whatsoever, since I could not possibly have gotten any of those old beds, dressers, and chairs down the trapdoor. There must surely be another entrance, but I searched for it in vain.

As daylight faded in the dormer windows, it occurred to me that though the house is large, the attic seemed larger still; I went to one of those dormer windows and peered out, more than half expecting to see something very strange indeed.

In a way I did, George. I saw treetops. Only the leafy green tops of trees in every direction.

My first thought, naturally, was that I was at the back of the house and looking down upon the wood in which I had freed Winkle. And yet, that could not be.

I see I got blood on the paper. Sorry! I have bathed the place--what a blessing it is to have running water! I have torn up an old shirt--all my shirts are old. Your old shirts would fit me and would be treasured; I hope you will consider sending a few.

The bleeding seems to have stopped.

He roused me by slamming the closet door. I jerked awake and sat up, disoriented and badly frightened. After that, I heard the crash of breaking glass. Is there a more frightening sound in all the world?

I jumped up and saw that he had broken one of the windows I had repaired. Rage displaced my fear, and I rushed at him. What I intended to do, I have no idea.

Whatever it was, I had no chance to do it. He was only a boy, a head shorter than I; but he was strong and fought like a wild animal. I hit him more than once, and he pounded and kicked me.

Then I was down and he kicking me again and again. I tried to protect my head with my arms, tried to roll away. I remember his shoes, low black shoes with gold buckles and thick soles. Isn't that odd? Please excuse the blood.

That will do it, I think.

A big man appeared--out of nowhere, it seemed. For a moment or two he stood between the boy and me, and the boy fled. I sat up and the man was gone. You will believe none of this; but it is true, every word of it. I have the bruises and the bleeding nose to prove it.

To say nothing of the broken window.

The big man must certainly have been the boy's father. At the time, because of his ring, I thought him something else; but now that I have had a chance to consider, I feel quite sure that I understand everything that happened.

The boy returned looking for the bronze apparatus I have described. He expected to find it in the coat closet, though I cannot say why. Perhaps he assumed that I would keep it near me, and not finding it in plain view in a room almost entirely empty, he thought it must be in the closet. He looked inside, but it lay flat on the shelf intended for hats, and it was pushed back a trifle. Since the shelf is higher than his head, he failed to find it. Enraged, he broke the window as I have described.

His father had followed him, feeling no doubt that his son was up to mischief. He got into my house as his son had, through an entrance I must find and secure. Hearing the breaking of my window, he would have run toward us; and finding his son in the act of kicking me, he forced him to desist. I must have lost consciousness at that point; and he (intent upon punishing his son and perhaps fearing that I might sue) left with the boy.

I hope you and Millie are well, and faring better than your poor brother.

Yours sincerely,

Bax

Dear George:

Doubtless you will resent this second letter, coming as soon as it does. But then you resent everything, or nearly everything. I have all sorts of news! Why should my letters be exempt?

When I studied my face in the mirror this morning, I decided I really ought to seek treatment. I have no money for a doctor, as you know; but I recalled that under the law anyone who goes to the emergency ward of a hospital must receive treatment. I would walk to a drugstore I had noticed on earlier walks and inquire about the nearest.

I had traversed no more than a block or two, when a car screeched to a stop beside me. "What happened to
you
?" It was Martha Murrey.

Smiling bravely, I declared that it was nothing.

"You get in here this minute. I'm going to take you home and put ice on that."

Of course I obeyed.

"Did you win?"

I shook my head.

"You see, that's what happens when a man goes to bars. My postman used to do it, too, that biker bar in Port--I won't tell you where it is."

I explained that I had fought an intruder.

"Did you say he was a boy?"

"Half grown." I shrugged. "He seemed strong for his age. At any rate, he proved more than a match for me."

"Most men would have told me there were two of them."

"As would I," I said, "if there had been. As it was, I was saved from a worse beating by his father."

"You should have called the police."

"I don't have a telephone."

"Still? I'll call them. Get a cell phone."

I nodded and said I suppose I would have to.

"There's this wonderful place that will give you one. Did you know about them?"

I certainly had not known, and said so.

"If you'll sign up for their service, you get a free cell phone. It's bottom of the line, of course."

She waited for my reaction, and I said, "Good."

"If you don't want to take pictures with it, or watch sports or any of that . . ."

"I simply want to call the police," I said. Honesty forced me to add, "And my friends."

The truth, George, was that I was thinking it might be possible for me to obtain assistance from Doris and Martha now and then if I had a telephone.

Nor was that all. During the time I was living at the Riverman, I pretty well gave up my job search; months have elapsed since I stopped looking, and it seems possible that something has opened up. Doris or
Martha may know of employment opportunities I would never have discovered for myself, for that matter.

"And your family, of course. You must have a family."

"Hardly any save my brother," I explained. "He's very busy and sometimes becomes angry when I call him." (As you see, I accorded
you
every consideration. Far be it from me to defame a family member, even when strict truth would require it.)

"That's a shame."

I agreed, and mentioned that I would soon be seeking employment.

"Not until your face heals, Mr. Dunn. Nobody will hire somebody who looks like he's been fighting."

I had not thought of that, but she is indubitably correct.

The upshot of all this, George, was that my cuts and bruises were bandaged and salved--"I always wanted to be a nurse"--and that I was Martha's guest at lunch. She spoke at some length about the advantages of selling my house and moving to an urban area in which I might more readily find employment, but I will not give that here.

What surprised me was her evident pleasure when I explained that I would greatly prefer to stay where I was for the time being. "Since you're staying, I hope to see you from time to time, Mr. Dunn. When you have your cell phone--did I give you the address?"

I shook my head, and she wrote it out for me.

"Give me a call when you have it, will you? Before I give it to anyone else, I want to make sure they treat their customers right."

Of course I promised I would.

As matters evolved, I did not actually require the address she had provided. She drove me there, waited while I signed the agreement and received my telephone, and drove me home. "Call me anytime," she said in parting. "I live alone, you know. I'm always glad of company."

Need I say that I returned home in high spirits?

At once I began a search for the means by which the boy had entered my house. I found it (or at least found one way, which may well be the correct one) immediately. Earlier, you see, George, I had searched the house from within; it was by that means that I discovered the broken side door.

Wiser now, I chose to search outside. There are at least eight rooms on the ground floor, and I may well have missed one or even two. Five of these are corner rooms.

I had no sooner reached the back of the house, than my eye fell upon an old-fashioned cellar door greatly in need of paint, the kind that the boys of long ago slid down. There is a hasp on it, but no lock.