Tony stared speechlessly. Blankenhagen sat up. He had no voice left; but the air came out of his lungs in an explosive whisper that broke my paralysis like a dash of cold water.

“Irma!”

Twelve

I HAD NOT RECOGNIZED IRMA. I WOULDN’T have known my own mother under those confusing conditions (especially my mother, under those conditions). But I was willing to take Blankenhagen’s word for it. I couldn’t figure out what Irma was doing there, but I decided maybe I had better go up and find out.

Tony beat me to the stairs. Blankenhagen was behind me, but not for long; I heard him stumble and fall after a few steps.

We kept going up—all the way up. I don’t know what I expected to find up there. I wasn’t thinking coherently. But I felt a mild shock when I came out of the opening onto the roofless top story, and saw what was happening.

The character in the cloak stood at the edge of the platform, with not even a ridge of stone between him and the ground some sixty feet below. Irma lay at his feet. She was drugged or unconscious—probably the former, because her face was quite peaceful and she was breathing heavily through her nose. If the poignancy of the moment had not raised my mind above ordinary cattiness, I would have said she was snoring.

The man who had brought her there was wearing riding breeches and boots. The hood of his dark-gray loden cloak was thrown back, so that his fiery head gleamed in the moonlight. His gun gleamed too. It was big and shiny and it was pointed straight at Tony’s stomach.

“So it was you,” I said unoriginally.

“In part. No, Tony, don’t try anything. A bullet hole in you wouldn’t spoil my plans at all. As soon as I’m finished here, you two go back where you came from. Where’s Blankenhagen?”

Tony sat down, yawning. I couldn’t help admiring his nonchalance. He didn’t even look surprised….

“You knew,” I said to him. “You knew it was George.”

“I knew George was one of the villains. Unfortunately, he isn’t the only one.” Tony looked at the villain. “Blankenhagen? He’s down there someplace. Broke his arm when the staircase gave way.”

“I admire your tenacity,” George said, baring his teeth in one of those toothpaste-ad grins. “I didn’t think you could get out.”

“I’m a little tired,” Tony admitted. He yawned again. “Can I sit over there, against the parapet, without your shooting me?”

“Just don’t stand up.”

Tony obeyed literally; and George raised his eyebrows politely at me. I shook my head. I didn’t want to sit down. I had a feeling I would be lying down only too soon, and permanently.

“Found the shrine yet?” Tony asked.