Give me time to think. Come back in a day or so."

"It will then be too late, and if you think that I will relent after you are dead, think again. Your Orpheum means nothing to me. I will take all your money and buy the space yacht I have long coveted."

Floreste seated himself in the wooden armchair and glared across the table at Glawen.

"You force me to break one faith in order to honor another."

"That is a side issue, so far as I am concerned."

"So be it. I will do your bidding. I will write out certain information which I hope will satisfy you. But you may read it only after I am dead."

"Why not just tell me now what I want to know?"

"I have certain arrangements which might be compromised if I told you now."

"That is not entirely satisfactory. You might choose to withhold some critical fact."

"By the same token you might consider it wise to accept a large settlement from my estate. Trust must be a bond between us, disparate creatures as we are."

"In that case"--Glawen brought out the photograph he had taken from Zaa's desk--"look at this picture and name off these ladies."

Floreste studied the faces with care. He peered sidewise at Glawen.

"Why do you show this to me?"

"You spoke of trust. If there is no truth, there can be no trust. And if I cannot trust you, then you cannot trust me.

Am I clear?"

"Unnecessarily clear." Again Floreste studied the photograph.

"I must forgo all reserve. This is Zaa, as you know. Her name originally, as I recall, was Zadine Babbs.

This is Sibil Devella. And this"--here Floreste hesitated--"this is Simonetta Clattuc."

"By what other name do you know her?"

Floreste reacted to the question with remarkable vehemence.

He jerked up his head and stared at Glawen, then blurted:

"Who told you this other name?"

"It's enough that I know. I want to hear what you have to say."

"It is incredible!" muttered Floreste.

"Did Namour tell you?

No, of course not; he would never dare. Who, then? Zaa? Yes!

It must have been Zaa! Why should she do such a thing?"

"She intended to kill me--at your suggestion, of course. She talked for hours."

"Perverse demented woman! Now all cohesion is gone!"

"I don't understand what you are saying."

"No matter. I do not intend that you understand. Come back tomorrow at noon. Your papers will be ready."

Glawen returned to Archives in the recesses of the Old Agency. Halfway through the afternoon he came upon what he had hoped, though not with any assurance, that he might find. He immediately telephoned Bodwyn Wook.

"I have something to show you. Can you come to Archives?"

"Now?"

"If possible."

"You sound morose."

"I've just stirred up a swarm of old emotions. I thought they had lost their force, but I was wrong."

"I will be there at once."

Bodwyn Wook arrived, and Glawen took him to the viewing room, "Something Floreste said gave me an idea. I went to look--well, you shall see for yourself."

The two went into the viewing room. Two hours later they emerged, Glawen wan and silent, Bodwyn Wook grim and taut to the strain of his own emotions.

Out in Wansey Way they found that evening had come to Araminta Station. Bodwyn Wook halted, and for a moment stood pondering.

"I would like to clear this matter up now, at this very instant--but the time is late, and tomorrow will do as well. Tomorrow at noon it shall be. I will issue the necessary instructions after we take our supper."

The two dined alone in Bodwyn Wook's chambers. Glawen told of his interview with Floreste.

"I left him, as usual, with my head spinning. I asked him in regard to Simonetta's other name, thinking of Madame Zigonie on Rosalia. Floreste was extremely perturbed:

who would dare tell me such secret information. He must know her by another name. Who could it be, that would cause him such excitement?

"Then again: he will write what he knows about my father, but I may not read the material until after he is dead. I tried to learn his reasons; he would not tell me. I am confused! Where is the difference?"

"It is not all that confusing," said Bodwyn Wook.

"There is the notable difference of an entire day, during which much can happen."

"That must be the reason," said Glawen.

"I am ashamed to be so dense. And since a day makes no difference to Floreste, the time must be important to someone else. Who?"