“Then, the minute I walked into the room, she said she wanted to meet with me. Tonight. Secretly. She said she didn’t want her father to find out.” For a moment he squeezed his eyes shut painfully.

But Harper only said, “Good. She has an important story to relate. She’s probably been living with it for ages and needs to get it out. I have no doubt she will tell you everything.”

“She hardly knows me, Harper.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You saved her life. You were absolutely cinematic about it. If she’s a princess in a tower, you’re a knight in shining armor. Besides which, I strongly suspect she has no one else to trust.”

His hand went up again. His tone was one of fierce complaint. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The last light of day flashed on Harper’s spectacles, obscured her eyes. But Bernard could see her lined face soften as she looked up at the man. “She’s a big girl, young Richard. A grown woman. Tell her the truth, and she can make her own decisions.”

Storm rolled over until his back was against the wall. For a second or two his expression was naked, lost, almost childlike. It was precisely moments like this that made Bernard hanker after debauchery—to take the edge off.

“I don’t know if I can tell her,” said Storm. “I don’t know if I can tell her.”

They were all silent after that, and it was sad in the room. Storm gazed up at the pendant toplight. Bernard studied his trainer tips, Harper the skull of her pipe. None of them looked at either of the others.

Then Storm pushed off the wall. He moved to the threshold without a word. Stopped there, hands in pockets. Frowned down at the back of Harper’s head.

“How could you do this to me then?” he said quietly. “I mean, I was out of it. You know? I was home, babe, I was gone. The cord was cut. I was, like, sailing away and it was all right. You know? Now …”

Bernard waited for Harper’s answer, but she made none. She went on studying her pipe. And after another moment, Storm walked out.

*    *    *

Then, though—then, when Storm had gone—Harper was on her feet. Padding back and forth in her stockings over the rose pattern of the rug. Tapping her pipestem to her chin again. Murmuring with grim excitement.

“Getting there, Bernard. We’re getting there. Tonight, one night, with what Richard discovers, with what I might find, who knows, we may understand everything. Everything.”

Bernard stood abruptly. Paused to recover his accustomed grace. Then wafted off into a connecting storeroom, just out of Harper’s sight. He was agitated, and didn’t want her to see it.