The Universe Twister (35 page)

"Why did I sit around half the night trying to drink Rodolpho under the table, while Lady Andragorre rode off into the distance?" he groaned. "In fact, why am I here at all? If I do find her, I'll probable end up getting that riding crop Rudy mentioned across the chops for my pains. But what else could I do? If she isn't Daphne, she's her twin. I can't very well let her fall into the clutches of this Lorenzo the Lanky character. Or is it Lancelot the Lucky?"

He shifted in the saddle. The cold had numbed his toes and ears and fingers. Was he gaining on the quarry or falling behind? The tracks looked no fresher than they had when he started.

He flapped the reins, urging his mount into a canter. The beast clattered up the trail, snorting steam, while Lafayette crouched low on its neck, ducking under the pine boughs that brushed his back. He rounded a turn, caught a glimpse of something bulky blocking the path ahead. He reined in sharply.

"Oh-oh," he said, feeling a sudden dryness in his mouth. "Dirty work's afoot . . ."

It was Lady Andragorre's pink coach, standing silent in the center of the track, one door swinging in the gusty wind. Lafayette dismounted, wincing at the ache behind his eyes, walked up beside it, glanced into the rose-velvet interior. A lacy handkerchief lay on the pink lamb's-wool rug. He picked it up, sniffed it.

"Moonlight Rose, Daphne's favorite," he groaned.

The traces, he found, had been cut. There was no sign of the four splendid blacks, or of the escort, other than a confused spoor leading on up the trail.

"Funny there are no bodies lying around," Lafayette muttered. "But I suppose the cowardly louses surrendered without a struggle." As he turned back toward his horse, there was a crackling in the underbrush beside the trail. Lafayette grabbed for the ornamental sword with which the duke's servants had provided him.

"Not another move, or I'll punch a hole through your treacherous weasand," a voice rasped behind him. He spun, looked into a scowling, mustachioed face, and the tip of a bared blade inches from his throat. Other men were emerging from concealment, swords in hand. Lafayette was just realizing that they wore the yellow livery of the Lady Andragorre's household, when rough hands seized his arms from behind.

"Came back to gloat, did you? Or was it loot you had in mind?" The captain poked the sword at Lafayette's midriff. "Where is she, miserable wretch?"

"I w-was just going to ask
you
that question!"

"Speak—or I may not be able to restrain my lads from ripping your carcass limb from limb!"

"
You
were escorting her," Lafayette found his voice. "Why ask
me
where she is? What did you do, run off and leave her?"

"Ah-hah, so that's the game, is it? Next I suppose you'll demand ransom for her return!" Lafayette yipped as the point pinked him again. "I'll ransom you, you sneaking snake in the underbrush! Talk! What have you done with the finest little mistress a squadron of cavalry ever had!"

"I'm on official business," Lafayette panted. "Take a look at the signet on my left hand."

Hard hands fumbled with the massive ring.

"It won't come off," a corporal reported. "Want me to cut it off?"

"You think to bribe us with this bauble?" the captain barked.

"Of course not! It belongs to Duke Rodolpho! But the finger's mine. Do you mind leaving it where it is?"

"Boy, what a nerve, to swipe the duke's ring and then have the gall to brag about it," the troop sergeant growled.

"I didn't steal it, he gave it to me!"

"Let's run the bum through, Cap'n," a trooper spoke up. "I got no use for guys which they're such lousy liars. Everybody knows his Grace is tighter than a thumbscrew."

"Can't you get it through your thick heads I'm not a kidnapper? I'm on an important mission, and—"

"What mission?"

"To catch up with the Lady Andragorre, and bring her back—"

"So you admit it!"

"But I had no intention of doing it," O'Leary amplified, struggling to force his throbbing head to function effectively. "I intended to head in the opposite direction, and—"

"And lingered a bit too long about the scene of your dastardly abduction!" the captain snarled. "Very well, fetch rope, men! His dangling corpse will serve as a warning to others!"

"Wait!" Lafayette shouted. "I give up, you're too smart for me. I'll . . . I'll talk!"

"Very well." The captain jabbed him. "Talk!"

"Well, let's see . . . where shall I begin," O'Leary stalled.

"Start with when Lou had to step into the bushes," the sergeant suggested.

"Yes, well, as soon as Lou stepped into the bushes, I, ah . . ."

"You hit him over the head, right?" a trooper contributed.

"Right. And then, er . . ."

"Then when we held up and sent a couple guys back to see what was taking Lou so long, you bopped
them
on the knob too, right?"

"That's it—"

"And then, while the rest of us was beating the brush for the boys which they hadn't come back, you nips in and whisks her Ladyship away from under the nose of Les, which he was holding the nags, right?"

"Who's telling this, you or me?" O'Leary inquired tartly.

"So where is she now?"

"How do I know? I was busy hitting Lou over the head and whisking around under Les's nose, remember?"

"How come you know the boys' names? You been casing this job a long time, hey?"

"Never mind that, Quackwell," the captain barked. "We're wasting time. The lady's whereabouts, you, or I'll stretch your neck i' the instant!"

"She's—she's at the hunting lodge of Lorenzo the Lanky!"

"Lorenzo the Lanky? And where might this lodge be found?"

"It's, er, right up this trail a few miles."

"Liar," the officer barked. "This road leads nowhere save to the château of milady's Aunt Prussic!"

"Are you sure of that?" Lafayette shot back.

"Certainly. Milady herself so informed me."

"Well, your intelligence apparatus needs overhauling," Lafayette snapped. "It's the talk of the locker rooms that Lorenzo the Lanky lives up this way. Or maybe Lochinvar—or is it Lothario? . . ."

"I fail to grasp the import of your slimy innuendos, varlet," the captain said in a deadly tone. "Wouldst have me believe that milady deliberately misled me? That she in fact had arranged some clandestine rendezvous with this Lorenzo, here in the depths of the Chantspels?"

"It wouldn't be very clandestine, with a dozen pony soldiers hanging around," O'Leary pointed out.

"You mean—you think she ditched us on purpose?" The N.C.O. scowled ferociously.

"Use your heads," Lafayette said. "If I'd taken her, do you think I'd leave her and come nosing back around here, just so you could catch me?"

"Enough of your vile implications, knave!" the captain barked. "Stand back, men! I'll deal with this blackguard!"

"Hey, hold it, Cap," the sergeant said, tugging at his forelock. "Begging the captain's pardon, but what the guy says makes sense. It was her Ladyship that said we ought to go back and look for Whitey and Fred, right?"

"Yeah, and also, come to think about it, I never heard before about her having no aunt living out in the boondocks," a trooper added.

"Preposterous," the captain said in a tone lacking in conviction. "Her Ladyship would never thus cozen me, her faithful liegeman, in such fashion!"

"I dunno, Cap. Dames. Who knows from dames, what they might do?"

"Mind your tongue!" The captain yanked at his tunic with a decisive gesture. "I'll soil my ears with no more of the knave's preposterous inventions. On with the hanging!"

"Now, don't be hasty, fellows," O'Leary yelled. "I'm telling you the truth! Lady Andragorre is probably just a few miles ahead; we ought to be galloping to overtake her instead of standing around here arguing!"

"He seeks to mislead us!" the captain snapped. "Doubtless milady lies trussed where he left her, mere yards from this spot!"

"He's out of his skull!" Lafayette protested. "He's afraid to go after her! This is just an excuse to muddy the waters and turn back!"

"Enough! Prepare the criminal for execution!"

"Wait!" Lafayette cried as the noose dropped around his neck. "Can't we settle this like gentlemen?"

A sudden silence fell. The sergeant was looking at the captain, who was frowning blackly at O'Leary.

"You demand the treatment accorded a gentleman? On what grounds?"

"I'm Sir Lafayette O'Leary, a—a charter member of the National Geographic Society!"

"Looks like he's got something, Cap," the sergeant said. "With credentials like them, you can't hardly accord the guy short shrift."

"He's right," Lafayette said hastily. "I'm sure that on sober reflection you can see it wouldn't look at all well if you lynched me."

"'Tis a parlous waste of time," the captain growled. "But—very well. Remove the rope."

"Well, I'm glad we're all going to be friends," Lafayette said. "Now, I—"

"Out pistols!"

"Wha—what are you going to do with those?" Lafayette inquired as the troopers unlimbered foot-long horse pistols, busied themselves with flint and priming.

"Take up your stance against yon tree, sir knight," the captain barked. "And be quick about it. We haven't got all night!"

"Y-you mean this tree?" Lafayette half-stumbled over gnarly roots. "Why? What . . .?"

"Ready, men! Aim!"

"Stop!" O'Leary called in a cracking voice. "You can't shoot me!"

"You demanded a gentleman's death, did you not? Aim—"

"But—you're not going to fire from
that
range?" Lafayette protested. "I thought you fellows were marksmen!"

"We took first place in the police tournament last June," the sergeant stated.

"Why don't I just move back a little farther?" Lafayette suggested. "Give you a chance to show your skill." He backed ten feet, bumped another tree.

"Ready!" the captain called. "Aim—"

"Still too close," Lafayette called, wagging a finger. "Let's make it a real challenge." He hastily scrambled back an additional four yards.

"That's far enough!" the captain bellowed. "Stand and receive your fate, sirrah!" He brandished his saber. "Ready! Aim!" As the officer's lips formed the final word, there was a sudden, shrill yowl from the dense brush behind him. All eyes snapped in the direction from which the nerve-shredding sound had come.

"Night cat!" a man blurted. Without waiting for a glimpse of the creature, Lafayette bounded sideways, dived behind the tree, scrambled to his feet, and pelted full speed into the forest, while shouts rang and guns boomed and lead balls screamed through the underbrush around him.

The moon was out, shining whitely on the split-log front of a small cabin situated in the center of a hollow ringed in by giant trees. Lafayette lay on his stomach under a bramble bush, aching all over from a combination of hangover, fatigue, and contusions. It had been thirty minutes since the last halloo had sounded from the troops beating the brush for him, twenty since he had topped the rim of the bowl and seen the dim-lit windows of the hut below. In that time nothing had stirred there, no sound had broken the stillness. And nothing, Lafayette added, had interfered with the development of a classic case of chilblains. The temperature had dropped steadily as the night wore on; now ice crystals glittered on the leaves. Lafayette blew on his hands and stared at the lighted window of the tiny dwelling below.

"She has to be down there," he assured himself. "Where else could she be, in this wilderness?" Of course, he continued the line of thought, whoever kidnapped her is probably there too, waiting with loaded pistols to see if anyone's following . . .

"On the other hand, if I stay here I'll freeze," O'Leary countered decisively. He tottered to his feet, beat his stiffening arms across his chest, eliciting a hacking cough, then began to make his way cautiously down the shadowy slope. At a distance he circled the house, pausing at intervals, alert for sounds of approaching horsemen or awakening householders; but the silence remained unbroken. The flowered curtains at the small windows blocked his view of the interior.

Lafayette slipped up close to the narrow back door, flanked by a pile of split wood and a rain barrel; he put an ear against the rough panels.

There was a faint creaking, an even fainter, intermittent popping sound. A low voice was moaning words too faint to distinguish. Lafayette felt a distinct chill creep up his backbone. Early memories of Hansel and Gretel and the witch's cottage rose to vivid clarity.

"Nonsense," he told himself sternly. "There's no such thing as a witch. There's nobody in there but this Lorenzo operator, and poor Lady Andragorre, probably tied hand and foot, scared to death, hoping against hope that someone will come along and rescue her, poor kid. So why am I standing around waiting? Why don't I kick the door down and drag this Lorenzo out by the scruff of the neck, and . . ."

The popping sound rose to a frantic crescendo and ceased abruptly. There was a soft
whoosh!
, a faint clank of metal. The creaking resumed, accompanied now by a stealthy crunching, as of a meat grinder crushing small bones.

"Maybe he's torturing her, the monster!" Lafayette took three steps back, braced himself, and hurled himself at the door. It flew wide at the impact, and he skidded to the center of a cozy room where a fire glowed on a grate, casting a rosy light on an elderly woman seated in a rocker on a hooked rug, a cat in her lap and a blue china bowl at her elbow.

"Why, Lorenzo, welcome back," she said in tones of mild surprise. She held out the bowl. "Have some popcorn."

Sitting by the fire with a bowl of crisp, lightly buttered and salted kernels on one knee and a cup of thick cocoa on the other, Lafayette attempted to bring his reeling thoughts to order. His hostess was stitching away at a quilt she had exhumed from a chest under the window, chattering in a scratchy monotone. He couldn't seem to follow just what it was she was saying—something about a little cuckoo fluttering from flower to flower and settling down in a big soft blossom to snooze . . .