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The Philosophical Strangler(89)

By:Eric Flint


“Know jest th’place,” interjected McDoul.

“Th’finest townhouse on its block,” added Erlic. “Aye an’ ’tis y’proper snooty block. Not far from th’Cardinal’s mansion, to boot.”

“We’ve been casin’ th’place,” explained G.J.

Another dagger in my heart!

“But that’ll cost money!” I fear my voice was shrill. “Lots of money!”

“We’ve got lots of money,” said Greyboar. “There was enough in Hildegard’s bonus to take care of everything we need. I know you’ve got it stashed away. So now’s the time to cough up.”

Well, I quit arguing at that point. As the wise man says: “You’ve got to know when to hold them, and when to fold them, and when you haven’t even got enough to ante up.”





Chapter 20.

A Plot Goes Awry

The next day—after spending more money to buy myself fancy clothes and hire a fancy carriage, so I’d look like a gentleman—I rented the townhouse from the agent handling the property. Very nice place, too, the Trio were right about that. But it wouldn’t have done them any good since the place was completely empty. It turned out the owners had moved to a country estate and the townhouse was up for sale. So that meant spending still more money to provide us with minimal furnishings, and two extra days to obtain it.

But the lost time was probably a blessing in disguise. By the time the townhouse was ready, the costumes were done to perfection and McDoul had had plenty of time to perfect his accent. Angela was even able to remember enough of the Cardinal’s voice to get McDoul to a fair imitation of it.

Then we all got some sleep, so we’d be rested up for the long two days and nights ahead of us. Well, I didn’t get a lot of sleep. Angela and Jenny saw to that. After they’d worn me out, they kissed me on both cheeks and said, “We love you too, Ignace.” Then it was an odd thing, really. I cried for the first time since I was a kid. But I slept better than I had since then, too, even if it was only for a few hours.

* * *

The next morning, the game began.

Not long after sunrise, Greyboar and the Trio and I were lurking in the bushes next to the Cardinal’s mansion. Oddly enough for someone with his vices, Fornacaese was one of those weird early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise types. Was but a moment later that the Great Man of the Cloth emerged from his mansion. Eager to spend the day doing the Lord’s work, no doubt. But he hadn’t taken three steps before Jenny and Angela popped up from somewhere, calling out to him.

They really looked stunning, there wasn’t any two ways about it. Somehow they’d designed their dresses so they conveyed an impossible combination of demure innocence and barely repressed lust. Wasn’t two seconds after they came up to the Cardinal that His Grace’s tongue was hanging out.

We could hear their voices as clear as bells.

“Oh, Your Grace, we’re in such a horrible situation,” moaned Jenny.

“We thought—it’s forward of us, we know it is, you being such a great holy man and all, but—” This from Angela.

“Speak, my children,” slavered the Cardinal. “Unburden your troubled souls.”

“Well, you see, our parents have gone off to the spa.”

“Left us all alone.”

“Instructed us to behave properly.”

“But we’re troubled by the devils.”

“They come to us in our dreams.”

“Filling us with—with—with—”

“Speak, children, speak!” I swear, even from where I was hiding I could see the foam on his lips.

“—with thoughts of lust and depravity!” moaned Jenny.

“So we were wondering, Your Grace,” murmured Angela sweetly, “if you might come to our house and pray for us today—and maybe even through the night.”

“We don’t live far,” Jenny hastened to add. “Just a three-minute walk.”

Well, to sum it up, the Cardinal agreed that he would meet them at their house in a quarter of an hour. Anything to save two young and innocent souls, don’t you know?

Jenny and Angela left, sauntering down the street. The Cardinal raced into his mansion. Practically bowled over the doorman on the way in. Wasn’t but five minutes later that he came charging back out—and this time he did bowl over the doorman. And there he went, scuttling down the street like a crab, a holy book in one hand and two bottles of wine in the other.

We waited until he disappeared around the corner before we made our move. Then we went up to the front door. McDoul was in the fore, dressed identically to the Cardinal. Greyboar and I came behind, clothed in the red robes of the Inquisition. Erlic and G.J. brought up the rear, dressed like servants, bearing on their shoulders an enormous chest. They were huffing and puffing as if the chest were full of who knew what, instead of being almost empty.