Wayness stood stiff and still. She had long been aware that during her quest options of this sort, or even more basic, might be offered her, and she had never precisely defined how far she would go before feeling impelled to draw back. In this case, she found Mr. Buffums offensive and not at all amusing, her response came promptly: "I'm sorry, Mr. Buffums. I would like to be a great actress and dance in the nude, but my mother and father would disapprove, and of course there is no more to be said."
Mr. Buffums tossed his head, so that his long pale hair flew back. He made an angry sound. “Tschah, but are we not the haughty one? Well then, just so, and let it be! I wish you no misfortune; but I cannot abide vapidity. Leave me, please; you have wasted enough of my time!" He strode to the door, unlocked it and slid it aside. “Our Miss Leepe will show you out." He called through the doorway: “Miss Leepe, this young woman is leaving; I will not see her again, at any time.” Mr. Buffums retreated; the door slid shut with a thud.
“Wayness marched into the outer office, teeth clenched.
She stopped by Giljin Leepe's desk, looked back over her shoulder, started to speak, but thought better of it. Giljin Leepe made an airy gesture. “Say anything you like; you won’t hurt our feelings. Everyone who knows Bully Buffums wants to kick him at least three times a day.”
“I'm so furious I can't think of anything.”
Giljin Leepe put on a wise expression. “The interview did not go well?”
Wayness shook her head. “Not at all well. He showed me his art collection, and hinted that he might give me the information I wanted, but first I must dance in the nude. I guess I did everything wrong. When I told him that I was not a good dancer he became surly and sent me away.”
“There is no such thing as a typical interview with Bully Buffums,” said Giljin Leepe. “Each is unique, and everyone comes away marveling at Bully's behavior.”
Nelda spoke from her table across the room. “He is almost certainly impotent.”
"Naturally, neither Nelda nor I can cite any direct evidence," said Giljin Leepe.
Wayness heaved a deep sigh and stared bleakly back toward Mr. Buffums' office. "I've probably made a serious mistake. I can't afford to be squeamish. Still, I don’t know whether I could bear to disrobe in front of that man or not. It makes me squirm just to look at him.”
Giljin Leepe surveyed Wayness with bright inquisitive eyes. “Would you do so if there was no other way of getting your information?”
“I suppose so,” said Wayness. “After all, jumping around in my bare skin for a few minutes would not kill me." She paused. “I am not sure it would end there. I suspect that he wanted me to, well, make love to a statue.”
“And there you would draw the line?"
Wayness hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. Five minutes? Ten minutes? It’s what bad dreams are made of. There must be another way.”
"I know the statue,” said Giljin Leepe. “It is even a handsome statue. If I wanted to look at it again, I could do so easily." She pulled open the top drawer of her desk. “I I've here the key to Bully's office. He thinks he lost it.”
“Notice it has a black tip – not that you are at all interested.”
She glanced at a clock. “Nelda and I will be leaving in about half an hour. Bully usually leaves shortly afterwards.”
Wayness nodded. “This, of course, is of no interest to me.”
“Of course not. What were you trying to learn from Bully Buffums?”
Wayness explained what she needed to know.
“Forty years ago? That would be in Bully's CONN.A files, under the code 'OB' for old business. Then 'N', for 'Naturalist.' It should not be hard to find. Now then,“ Giljin Leepe rose to her feet . “I am about to visit the lavatory. Nelda, as you see, has her back turned and is absorbed in her work. When I return, I will assume that you have left the premises – though I must point out that if you were standing in the shadows at the back of the bookcase yonder, I would notice nothing. So now, I will bid you goodbye and good luck.”
“Thank you for your advice,” said Wayness. ”Thank you, Nelda.”
“You may start toward the door, so that, if Bully should ask I can assert that I saw you on your way out.”
III.
Giljin Leepe and Nelda were gone. The office was silent. Half an hour passed before Mr. Buffums emerged from his inner chamber. He slid shut the door behind him and carefully locked it, using one of twenty keys dangling from his key ring. Swinging around, he marched across the office to the outer door and was gone. The thud of his footsteps diminished and became part of the silence. The premises were vacant.
Not quite vacant. In the shadows something stirred and shifted. Ten minutes passed and the shape seemed to become restless. Nonetheless it composed itself for a further period of waiting, lest Mr. Buffums, discovering that he had forgotten an important document, should return to repair the lack.
Another fifteen minutes passed. Wayness stole furtively from the shadows. “It is no longer Wayness Tamm the Naturalist," she told herself. "It is now Wayness Tamm the burglar. Still, burgling is better than dancing for Mr. Buffums." She moved to Giljin Leepe’s desk and availed herself of the key with the black tip. She noted the telephone switch panel at the side of the desk and resisted the whimsical impulse to call her Uncle Pirie and announce her knew avocation. Wayness became vexed with herself. “I am starting to be giddy. It is probably nervous hysteria. I must put a stop to it.”
Wayness went to the door at the back of the room. She fitted the key and eased open the door inch by inch by inch. With skin tingling she listened but heard only silence; the collection, no matter how rich, dark and heavy its essence could create no sound.
Wayness slipped into Buffums’ office. Taking the key from the lock, she slid the door shut and went briskly to Mr. Buffums' desk, sparing a single wary glance toward the marble statue.
Wayness seated herself before the communicator. She studied the keyboard a moment; all seemed standard. She indicated ‘CON-A’, then 'OB' to bring an alphabetical directory to the screen. She struck 'N', to elicit another directory. She wrote ‘Naturalists Society' and was provided a tabular listing, which included as categories: 'Correspondence’, 'Parcels, Description’, ‘Parcels, Disposition’ and finally: 'Subsequences’.
Wayness looked into 'Parcels, Description’ and almost at once discovered the notation pertaining to Frons Nisfit and his dealings. The listings were numerous and ended with 'Miscellaneous Papers and Documents’.
A box at the bottom of the listing labeled 'Comments’ contained the remark: 'I have notified Ector van Broude, fellow of the Society in regard to these transactions, which seem notably unwise E. Faldeker'
Wayness brought to the screen the category 'Parcels, Disposition’. The information she sought was contained in a single sentence: ‘This entire lot has been consigned to Gohoon Galleries’.
Wayness stared at the words. So there she had it! 'Gohoon Galleries’!
She jerked her head around: what was that? A tremor, a near-inaudible thud? Wayness sat stiff, head tilted to listen.
Silence.
A sound from outside, thought Wayness. She turned back to the screen and brought up the contents of the 'Subsequences' file.
She discovered two entries. The first was dated twelve years previously: ‘Request to view made on this date by off-world woman identifying herself as Violja Fanfarides. No conflict of interest perceived; request granted’.
The second entry bore the current date and read: ‘Request to view made on this date by off-world young woman, identifying herself as Wayness Tamm, Assistant Secretary of the Naturalist Society. Circumstances suspicious; request denied’.
Wayness stared at the remark, infuriated anew. Again she jerked her head around to listen. This time there was no mistake. Someone was at the door. In a single movement Wayness switched off the screen and dropped to her knees behind the desk.
The door slid open; Mr. Buffums entered the chamber, carrying a large parcel in his arms. Wayness shrank down, making herself as inconspicuous as possible. If he approached, she would surely be discovered.
Incommoded by the parcel, Mr. Buffums had left the door open; Wayness tensed herself, ready to dash for the outer office. But Mr. Buffums had turned in the opposite direction. Peering around the desk Wayness saw that he had carried his parcel to a table in the left part of the chamber and had started to remove the wrappings.
Wayness watched covertly. His back was turned. She rose from behind the desk; on stealthy feet she tiptoed to the door and with vast relief passed through. Noticing Mr. Buffums' key ring dangling from the lock, Wayness gently closed the door and locked it with a double turn so that it could not be opened from within. It seemed a fine prank to pay on Mr. Buffums. She hoped that he would be extremely inconvenienced and very much puzzled.
Wayness went to Giljin Leepe’s desk, where she replaced the key with the black tip. Again she glanced at the telephone switch-panel and studied it for a moment. She pushed two toggles, and turned a switch; Mr. Buffums would now be denied the use of his telephone and would be unable to call anyone for assistance. Wayness laughed aloud. It was, all in all, a good day's work.
Wayness returned to the Marsac Hotel. She immediately telephoned Giljin Leepe, using a blank screen.
“Giljin here”, said a cheerful voice.
“This is an anonymous call. You may be interested to know that by some peculiar accident Mr. Buffums has locked himself into his office, with his keys on the outside of the door. Hence he cannot get out.''
“Yes,” said Giljin Leepe. "I consider that interesting news. I will stop answering my telephone, and I will suggest to Nelda that she do the same; otherwise he will insist that one or another of us come to liberate him!”
“There is more interesting news. By accident his telephone has been connected to the instrument on Nelda‘s desk, and he will be unable to make his wishes known until someone arrives in the morning.”
“What a strange situation!” said Giljin Leepe. “Mr. Buffums will surely be perplexed and probably annoyed, for he is not a stoic person. He suspects no intruder?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Good. In the morning I will carefully put everything to rights, and Mr. Buffums will be more bewildered than ever."
IV.
After her call to Giljin Leepe, Wayness consulted the hotel's directories and learned that 'Gohoon Galleries' was still a viable concern, that its business was auctioneering, and that its offices were located in Sancelade, readily accessible to her inquiries, which she would continue tomorrow.
The time was late afternoon. Wayness sat in a corner of the hotel lobby, flipping through the pages of a fashionable journal. She became restless and, slipping into her long gray cloak, went out to walk along the promenade which bordered the River Pang. A breeze from the west, where the sun was setting, flapped the fabric of her cloak, rustled leaves in the plane trees, and sent a million little waves scurrying across the water.
Wayness walked slowly and watched the sun drop behind the far hills. With the coming of twilight, the breeze dried to a whisper and then was gone; the wavelets on the river disappeared. A few other folk were abroad: elderly couples, lovers who had made rendezvous along the riverbank, occasionally a person as solitary as herself.
Wayness paused to look out across the river, where the pale lavender-gray sky was reflected along the moving surface. She tossed a stone into the water and watched the black whorls dissipate. Her mood was unsettled. "I have had some success, true. I am not altogether ineffectual, which I suppose is good news. But after that – " The name ‘Violja Fanfarides' suddenly intruded. "I wonder ...”. Wayness grimaced. “Odd. I feel queasy inside, as if I were coming down sick." She brooded for a few moments, then put the name aside. “I suspect that Mr. Buffums and his curiosa have affected me more than I might have liked. I hope there will be no lasting effect upon my personality."
Wayness went to sit on a bench and watched the afterglow fade from the sky. She remembered her conversation with Pirie Tamm on the subject of sunsets. Surely on Cadwal she had known sunsets as mild and serene as this! Perhaps. That particular shade of twilight gray, after all, was not absolutely unique. Still, one would be a thing of Earth and the other of Cadwal, and so they would be distinct.
The stars began to appear. Wayness looked around the sky, hoping to find the racked 'W' of Cassiopeia, which would guide her toward Perseus, but the foliage of a nearby plane tree blocked her view.
Wayness rose to her feet and started back toward the hotel. She found herself a more practical frame of mind. “I will bathe and change into something frivolous, and then it will be time for dinner, and I am already beginning to feel hungry."
V.
In the morning Wayness dressed once again in her dark brown suit and after breakfast rode the slideway to Gohoon Galleries. In Clarmond, at the western edge of Sancelade. Here a few of Tybalt Pimm's most rigorous tenets had been relaxed. The buildings surrounding Beiderbecke Circus rose to heights of ten or twelve stories. In one of these structures Gohoon Galleries occupied the first three floors.
At the entrance a pair of uniformed guards, one male, the other female, photographed Wayness from three sides, and took note of her name, age, home and local address as stated on her identification papers. Wayness inquired the reason for such precautions.
“It is not arbitrary nuisance-mongering”, she was told. "We display much valuable merchandise for viewing prior to the auctions. Some of these articles are small and easily purloined. Cameras record such acts, and we can instantly identify the offenders and regain our property. The system, while strict, is efficient.”
“Interesting”, said Wayness. “I had not planned to steal anything; now the thought is farther from my mind than ever."
“That is the effect we are trying to achieve!”
"As it happens, I have come only for information. Where must I apply?”