Chapter 12: More Spills, More Bills

That day Eugene was given no time to visit Maniac. He worked until the last customer was gone, convincingly limping a little whenever Constali could see him. When asked about the bank across the street, he simply shrugged and said that it blew up in the night, but nothing was touched on their side of the street. All he had been asked to watch was the restaurant, so it did not concern him.

After feeding time, he cleaned up the place and did the last round of dishes. By then he was too tired to walk anywhere, flopping on his bed wearily to sleep the night away in peace.

The next morning Constali got him up to do more chores, all the day long until nine’o clock. After the breakfast rush Eugene was going to ask for the day off, but when he came into the kitchen he found the Italian just finishing a phone call.

“Yeah, I’ll send it right away. My helper boy will bring it,” he called into the speaking device with more force than was strictly necessary. Clipping the cellphone shut he turned to Eugene, “we’ve got an order to eat out, kid. Don’t get many of those, but they pay well. So be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, sir,” Eugene gave him a salute, putting aside his own plans with a secret sigh. “Where to?”

“The hotel right down the street. I’ll pack up the meal, you carry it over. Room one-twenty on the second floor. Got it?” Constali looked at him hard, as if he had not just been given assurance of complete obedience. Eugene saluted again, moving to lean against the wall and wait for the package to be made up. While he waited he snagged a cream-filled pastry from a cooling rack, eating it silently during the time his boss put a paper-wrapped lasagna, a chicken sandwich with cheesy sauce and a handful of appetizers into a decorated cardboard box. By the time Constali handed him the container the pastry was gone, disappearing down his throat just as stealthily as it had gone from the rack.

Eugene took the cardboard box of lunch under one arm, leaving his one hand free to open doors with. Trotting out of the restaurant and across the patio, he stopped on the sidewalk for a moment to gaze at the rubble on the other side of the street. It had been partially cleared up by now, but there were still orange ribbons around it to warn people away and a barricade in front of the bank door. Maniac had altered the aspect of it’s walls altogether and shut the bank down for many days to come.

Turning to walk steadily down the sidewalk, Eugene looked up at the side of the hotel he was approaching and tried to guess which window had room one-twenty behind it. As he looked over them he noticed that one of the windows appeared to be broken. Glancing from it down to the ground underneath, he saw the glass still littered there.

“That must have been an expensive mistake,” he commented to himself with a smirk, as he hurried on into the building. In room one-twenty he found a surly, tired looking man with small bandage wrapped around on hand.

“Just set it there,” the customer told him, pointing out a desk on the other side of the room. He was slouching on the bed and fumbled with his left hand to pull the wallet out of his pocket, apologizing grumpily as he finally got it out, “sorry. Some weirdo broke into my other room last night. The window got broken and I cut my right hand on the glass while looking out of it.”

“I don’t hold it against you,” Eugene lifted up his hook, light glancing off of it in silver pinpoints.

“Huh, guess not,” the man muttered noncommittally, giving him the money. Eugene left the room still smiling to himself at the would-be thief’s escapade. How foolish of him to try stealing something by breaking the glass to get in. The sleeper in the room would not have stayed asleep for long with that noise, besides the fact that public buildings almost always have burglar alarms.

Deciding to take his chance while he could and see how Maniac was recovering, Eugene went out the back way in the hotel and started to cross the parking lot there. He had got about half-way to the other side when he noticed a light-blue convertible parked over in the shade.

Peering closely at it, he thought that he could make out a familiar, dark cloaked figure sitting at the wheel. It was a great opportunity to beg a ride and insist on hearing about some of his friends’ previous adventures once he got there.

When he was part of the way to the car he noticed that it was not moving or even running, though the cloaked shape appeared to be sitting very stiff and still at the wheel. Raising an eyebrow in amusement at his traveling companion’s peculiarities, Eugene called out, “hey, what are you waiting for? Think you’ll get somewhere sitting still?”

“No,” the cloaked one returned once Eugene had come a little closer, “I’m trying to plug a bullet-hole in my leg by pressing it into the chair. It isn’t succeeding very well.”

“What?”

Unsure if he was joking or not, the thief hurried closer to look into the car. He did not look long before turning around to lean his back against the door, face turning milky pale.

“My gosh, Leaflow, how can a fellow lose so much blood and still be upright?”

“The chair helps,” Leaflow pointed out, adding after a pause, “perhaps I am a particularly juicy personage?”

“Were you the one who broke the window in the hotel trying to get in?” Eugene asked, reaching up to wipe a sleeve on his forehead, which was suddenly damp. His smile at the thought of the other thief’s expenses had gone.

“No, I broke it trying to get out. Didn’t realize that the occupant of that particular room slept with his pistol. Or his papers in his pocket.” Leaflow still sat without moving, pressing his hands down on the left leg just above the knee so that it was forced against the cushion beneath it.

“Alright,” Eugene said after a pause, letting out a long breath of air, “we have to get you to the doctor. Move over.”

“I don’t like doctors.”

“Leaflow,” Eugene fixed him with a sharp gaze, “I understand and can sympathize with you entirely in not wanting your pride knocked down by relying on another person or having to sit still under their care. But you have a bullet in your leg and if you don’t move I’ll just wait until you topple over and shift you myself.”

“I don’t like doctors. Or hospitals,” Leaflow repeated, almost petulantly, but he moved over to the passenger seat. With a grimace the thief threw a rag from the back chair over the driver’s seat and sat down on it. Mostly, he was too anxious about his friend to care, but a small part of him was excited at getting this chance to drive the 1966 Mustang he had admired since he first lay eyes on it.

Putting the car in reverse, he backed it out of the lot it had been parked in. It handled nicely, though he was surprised at the force needed to turn the steering wheel. With a wry smile, he realized that he was used to the technological improvements of a newer machine even if he preferred the aesthetics of an older one.

“It’s always the same leg,” Leaflow commented as they began to pull out of the hotel lot, “it was injured the time I was mauled by a six-legged dragon, it was that side I stepped on the Cloostherian land mine on FPU-7B with and even when I was bitten by a Galactic gnat-worm it was on the left knee. The venom made it look like a watermelon for three whole days.”

“I see,” Eugene returned in a tight voice, afraid that his friend’s mind was wandering in delirium now. The things he was saying did not sound like anything but the figments of an imagination run wild.

For the first time Leaflow’s green gaze swung slowly around to look at him. It seemed oddly more yellow than normal, but was just as bright as ever. He stared at Eugene in silence as they drove down the road, before turning to lean his forehead (or fore-hood) on the dash with one hand to pillow it. Eugene drove a little faster.

It was not long before they reached the quiet, private-business filled street where Doctor Pellmonte lived. Pulling up in the drive the thief parked the car, being extra careful to put on the parking brakes. He thought that Leaflow might forgive him for hauling him to the doctor, but not if he let the car roll backwards out onto the street and get smashed by cross-traffic.

“We’re here,” Eugene announced, getting out to come around and help the cloaked one out of the car. Leaflow accepted a shoulder to lean on with his left hand, but just barely. They made it up into the doctor’s work space after some stumbling and fumbling, where Maniac had been given a more comfortable bed on one side to sleep in. He was dozing when they came in, but cracked an eye upon hearing the uneven footsteps on the floor.

“Oh good, some company,” he observed, “it’s so dull in here these days, I’m almost pulling out my hair with vexation. Is that permanent company you have for me there, Eugene?”

“Hopefully not very permanent,” the thief gritted, frustrated already and made no more happy by his cheerfulness.

“Call the doctor, would you?”

“Very well,” Maniac cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting so that the house rang, “Pellmonte!”

In just a moment the old doctor came bustling in, fixing his explosion patient with a stern glare, “no need to scream like that. What is it this time?”

“We have another guest,” Maniac swept a hand grandly at Leaflow, who was perched on the table by this time, looking unsteadily defiant, “or should I say a victim? Subject maybe, or sheep for the slaughter. I’m not very good with words, so perhaps one of you sophisticated people can decide.”

“Patient will do just fine,” Pellmonte told him wearily, before turning to the person in question, “now, what can I do for you, sir?”

“Nothing,” Leaflow shrugged ironically, “I’m just bleeding all over your clean butcher-block for the fun of it.”

Eugene was almost jumping up and down with repressed impatience by now, “he has a bullet in his left leg, doctor. We need you to get it out and patch him up, but he’s being stubborn about it!”

“Hmm, I see,” the doctor put a hand to his chin thoughtfully, “well, I can’t do anything about it unless he agrees, which he would be foolish not to do. Or we can wait until he faints, I suppose.”

“That’s what I said too,” Eugene agreed, crossing his arms with a frown. With that, and a few more hints from the doctor, the cloaked one finally gave in with bad grace. Pellmonte began to swiftly collect his instruments, before asking, “by the way is he, er, human? Not that he could be anything else, really. I just couldn’t help wondering.”

“About 65-70%,” Leaflow told him, stretching out on the bed, “by the way, I made an attempt at removing it earlier, using a pocket-knife, but it was at too awkward an angle to succeed. And jabbing yourself with a knife in a fresh wound is no fun.”

“No wonder it’s bleeding so much!” Eugene exclaimed, “if you were trying to butcher your own leg, you crazy, no-good--”

“Please,” the doctor said, putting a hand to his head as if it were beginning to ache, “leave us for now. I need to concentrate.”

The young man went stomping out of the room, calling back, “that’s fine! I have to get back to work to pay the doctor’s bills of these two madmen anyway.”

He left the house and walked back to the restaurant, explaining to his boss that he had delivered the meal but been delayed in returning by finding an injured asylum patient who needed help getting back to his Happy House.

---

The next day Eugene was in a much calmer frame of mind. He was dreading finding out what the doctor’s bills would add up to, but at the same time he realized that now was an excellent opportunity to find out what both of his friends had been up to before they were injured. Besides, it was Saturday, the first national day of relaxation, recreation and wasting money. There was normally only one more day of weekend after it because, by then, most of your play money had usually been spent. That is, of course, not how it had originally been intended, but most people had forgotten the commandment to rest in a country full of pleasures.

Eugene did not have anything exciting planned for the day and had to save his purse for the doctor’s bills. But he was still eager to get back to the doctor’s house and see how his friends were getting along. Trotting along the sidewalk, he looked around him more than he had done on any previous trips, admiring the jewelry in a shop window and the flowers blooming on shrubbery as he went by. As he neared his destination he began to remember the state he had left the doctor and his patients in last time. He hoped that things had improved since then, for the doctors sake as well as his own.

When he reached the house he found Pellmonte’s wife Nelly in the surgery, cleaning instruments. She informed him that his companions had been moved to a spare room, so that they would be out of the way of other patients. Eugene gave an understanding chuckle at this, thinking that they were likely to make a fresh patient worse just from being in the room with it.

He followed her directions and reached a wooden door in time to hear from inside; “Mine is much faster than yours! Look at him go.”

“Yes, but mine has more endurance. Yours has to stop every few minutes for a breather.”

Recognizing the voices of is friends, Eugene came in to see what they were up to. Each had a comfortable bed placed against the far wall, covered in quilted blankets. Maniac sat on the edge of his, leaning over to peer down at the open floor between them. Leaflow was more comfortably lounging on the pillows, but his head was craned over to watch the floorboards as well. Coming closer, Eugene noticed a pair of large ants scurrying around on the floor, nudged into place now and then by Maniac’s bare toe. They seemed to be being made to race though they ran about too hectically for a winner to be declared.

“Hello, you two,” Eugene said, pulling a pair of paper-wrapped packages from his pockets, “I brought you some presents from the restaurant. A cold, greasy bit of meat for you, Maniac, and an old heel of bread for Leafy.”

He tossed the papers onto the beds, walking past to look out of the window on the end of the room as his friends opened the parcels and found an Italian seasoned barbecued rib and one end of a baguette. Once they had left their pets to begin eating, he came back to perch on the foot board of Maniac’s bed.

“So, how’s the recovery process looking?”

“I’m feel as fit as a goat-kid on a swing set,” Maniac declared, gnawing his meat with a sound of crunches and cracks from the bone, “though my ribs are still almost as broken as this one. But hopefully the doctor will let me leave soon.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“And you, Leaflow?”

“I’m going to break out of this place if I’m not given leave soon,” the cloaked one returned, carefully setting half of his bread aside for later, “that Doctor Pellmonte is actually a fine medic, but I can’t stand much more captivity. Even with a limp like a cactus-traveling Cinderella.”

Eugene snorted, reminding him that he had only been there since yesterday afternoon. They all three chattered a little more about everything and nothing in particular, before the thief finally came to the point, “now, we had some business the other night that never was finished. What were you both doing last week, after having broken up? We were going to tell our stories to each other last time, if you remember.”

“Ah, yes,” Maniac clapped his hands with a sound like the report of a gun, making both of his friends wince, “and Leaflow was going to explain how he knew what Smothers said to me even though he wasn’t there.”

“Those,” Leaflow raised a finger to proclaim solemnly, “are different stories entirely.”

“Well, whatever they are, we’re going to hear them,” the other patient insisted, cracking his knuckles loudly, “starting with what we were doing last week and going on from there. I’ll begin.”

He told all of his adventures with Crescent Moe, Smothers and the bank, finishing up with the mistake he had made concerning the C-4 explosives. Eugene went next, explaining his time at the fair with great embellishment and spirit, even though he glossed over how he had lost his first job in a restaurant before that. After a pause at the end, when he had seen Maniac ejected from the bank, the thief added, “by the way Leaflow, I still have your lighter, if you’ve been looking for it. Here.”

He held out the shiny gadget, adding dryly, “I’ve never seen any like it. I meant to tease you with it before, but it slipped my mind.”

“You keep it,” Leaflow pushed his hand away, “I knew you had taken it when I found it missing, but if you were clever enough to slip it from my pocket it’s yours. Few have done a deed like that without losing something more important to them in in the same instant. Like their heads.”

Eugene pocketed the lighter with a nod of understanding and thanks.

Leaflow went on to relate his own story, telling how he had seen Yad and been caught up acting like a psychiatrist because of it.

He finished with the explanation, “after finding Yad’s apartment empty, I remembered that he had once been called Daye, a professor of the space/time continuum and other theories. Unfortunately, it seems that his mind was opened too far and was twisted out of that same space/time continuum entirely, rendering him too unstable to continue his studies, but he had retained a secretary before this change.”

“I looked her up, and found out that she had once embezzled a large sum of money from the professor and was now being blackmailed because of it. She hired me to get the papers proving this back from the man who was doing it. I failed like a fool. He had a gun and a better set of ears than I expected. You know the rest.”

Eugene shook his head and wagged a finger chidingly, “you two bunglers. You have to have your wits about you in that sort of thing and come prepared.”

“I know, more pointless failures,” Maniac muttered, flopping back on his pillow, “I hate to say it, but it seems that we were all three meant to go together. Though we still get into trouble, we get out of it with a lot less problems following us. We belong together, on this quest at least.”

The other two nodded their heads gravely, sealing a tacit pact.

To Eugene’s surprise, Leaflow said after a moment, “well, now that we are all cozily arranged together, I suppose it is time for our other stories. The stories of our pasts. Though I’m sure no one expected them until the thirty-second chapter of our adventures. But if I tell my story, you must each promise to tell your own, with the same percentage or greater of truth.”

“You have my only hand on it,” the thief said, holding out his palm. It flashed through his mind then that he would have to reveal part of who he was and what he was actually doing to satisfy his friends. But now that they were all in it together, he figured they would find out about it sooner or later anyway. It was worth giving up a little bit of his own history to hear the tale of the other’s.

“As I said before, my story is a very difficult one to tell,” Leaflow explained pensively, “all tales are part of one large story, which I cannot tell while yet I live. It is especially difficult for me to tell it to you, as it begins over a hundred years ago, in what I now believe to be a parallel universe as well as at some point in the future.”

“Wait a minute,” Eugene looked at him incredulously, “how can a story start over a hundred years in the past, as well as at some point in the future? Not to mention that parallel universes don’t really exist.”

“But I do,” Leaflow gave him a mocking glance, “and for me, my tale began long ago, even though for you, it still hasn’t happened yet. Let me begin:”

LEAFLOW’S STORY

“Anyway, at some point in time I came to exist, whether in the future or past, much as any of us did. My mother’s family was fairly normal, if you can call any group of humans that. But my father came of mixed blood. Quite a bit of it came from somewhere off of our world. Those people were known for their mental abilities, as well as their love of traveling...mostly in the distant realms of outer space.”

(Here he was interrupted by some rude remarks that this was an entertaining Sci-Fi novel, but not a real story. He returned a glare without pausing--)

“Along with the slight telepathic abilities, I inherited that insatiable draw. So after getting in trouble with a gang, drinking a potion of long-life and stowing away on a space ship, I began my adventures in outer space. I’ve been to many distant planets, learned to control the mental arts a little better, seen many strange things. I had that lighter made for me on one of the planets, for starting camp fires with. It’s carved of pure Chalnian Chirt, something not found on my world, or yours I believe. Have it appraised if you do not trust me.”

(Eugene grumbled that he would, though there was beginning to be a light of true interest in his eyes. Maniac just shushed him with a grin as if he was enjoying the show hugely.)

“To go on, I still return home to Ti-Gallin once every twenty years or so. Things change quick there, often in ways I don’t like the looks of. When I went back last time I found that there was an experiment going on to test a time transporter which had just been invented. I volunteered to pilot it, what with my experience in traveling through odd places. But, secretly, I changed the settings to take me to another time than they had first intended. I wanted to explore the past in my own good time.”

“I landed on this planet, which is either the direct past of my own or, as I suspect, a past that could have been. Immediately, I ran into trouble. There was some scientists who saw me land right outside their facility and wanted to keep me for questioning...”

“Or as a subject to study. I wasn’t sure. They tried to keep me there and I pushed one into the gravel face-first. Hard. Most of the rest came after me then. I had to flee. But there was one who helped me, feeling pity, I suppose. He called himself Yad, though I learned he used to be called Professor Daye. The very same person we are looking for, as you both know.”

“Soon after that he was given a job by an unknown personage to steal money and jewels from a private museum...but that is part of Eugene’s story. I’ll just finish by saying that he got away with the goods in the end, while I was caught helping him escape and taken to prison. There I killed a guard for trying to take my cloak away and was kept chained in solitary for it. Before you kindly helped me get out of that situation. That is, in brief, my history up to this point.”

Eugene had pulled the lighter out of his pocket when it was mentioned and now glanced from it to the speaker. He stared for a long moment, as if trying to see through the layer of cloth which made Leaflow’s hood, or the mysterious darkness which hid his face. Finally he said, “it was you, wasn’t it? The voices I heard in my head when I first awoke in prison were your doing. Can you read my mind right now, whatever I’m thinking?”

Leaflow shook his head, not as a denial, only in mitigation.

“It’s not as easy as that. Mostly, it’s a sort of instinct which tells me what has happened, or what another is thinking. Speaking telepathically takes a lot of concentration. I was bored in the confinement cell, or else I could not have done it so clearly.”

“This is all really hard to believe,” Eugene put his face in his hand, “an outer-space alien who is telepathic, sitting on a bed right in front of me. With a bandage on his leg. Eating bread and cheese. It’s crazy.”

Maniac grinned all the wider, “it is hard to take in logically. You know, I guess I’ll just stop trying. We always knew that Leaflow was a freak, so that is covered. Who’s going to tell their pathetic little fantasy next?”

“You can,” Eugene peeped out at him between his fingers, “it’ll be violent, I’m sure, but not as weird as the one before.”

MANIAC’S LIFE

“You’re right, there. My history will probably be pretty mundane compared to both of yours. But at least it’s believable. And full of action.”

“It all began when I was about thirteen years old, really. Before then my life was pretty commonplace with school, helping out at my father’s sporting goods store and eating my mother’s double-chocolate cookies whenever I could get them. But the year I turned thirteen I met a fellow called Mor. He was a biker, part of a gang. A big, strapping man with a white beard down to his knees. And a very pretty daughter, if you care for such things. He taught me how to ride, and how to tell the different gangs apart. He even introduced me at one of his compatriot’s meetings and then, when he died three years later, left me his motorcycle. His daughter was whisked off to live with some strict aunt far away and I only felt a small pang, even then.”

“The bike was the best present I’ve ever been given. I slung the gun and knife my father had given me on the side of it and began to ride with Mor’s old gang. We had some wild times, I can tell you. Got in fights with the other bunches and patrolled our territory making sure that nothing happened in it that we had qualms with.”

“Then one day a terrible calamity befell me. Two of my best friends were both brutally murdered by one of our rival gangs. The house they were staying in was burnt, their bodies--"

(Here he was interrupted and told to skip the gory details. Neither of his listeners wanted to hear them.)

“Yes, well, anyway, I set out to get revenge. Rallying the clan to me, I called on them to help wreak havoc on our rivals in a style they had never dreamed of before. I whipped our gang into a frenzy and we descended on the other tribe, beating, killing...Er, to skip the details we massacred most of that biker gang. But at a great cost. Many of my companions were injured or killed. As you can see, I had a stud put through my nose for every pair of them that died. A fitting memorial for some good friends.

(Here he touched the first metal bit on his face. Eugene commented sarcastically that his mother must have been proud. With a frown Maniac went on:)

“My mother had nothing to do with it! Both of my parents are respectable people, even if my father is still a little on edge from having gone to war when he was young...Where was I? Ah, yes, the massacre. So, my gang wasn’t too pleased to have lost so many members. Some of those had even held themselves aloof from the whole thing and these now blamed me for being rash. Others came to agree with them until, when a vote was held, I was exiled from the gang. I was mad for a while after that. Almost off my rocker, too. I slept in parks, ate what I could find and lived little better than a rabid dog.”

“Eventually I came together again and decided to make a fresh start. I found a few good lads and started my own mafia, but not a biker gang. Just your typical city street gang.”

“We had a lot of fun, made and lost a lot of money. I even became famous enough world-wide to be invited to hunt in the maharajah's land in India. I had one of the biggest, most devious and widely-known gangs in the country, though few on the outside knew who the ring-leader really was.”

“Until one day when I was punishing a guy who had squealed on us. Ended up killing him, just before the cops got there and cleaned us all up. After that I had been in prison for some years before you came along. Now I want to go straight, if only I can do it with enough dough to live comfortably on. I’m too set in my ways to find a new career now.”

It was his turn to get a long stare from Eugene, though this one was more whimsical than incredulous. Eugene took in his burnt, crispy leather jacket, torn, dirty butler’s pants and ugly, wild face, “you’re trying to go straight? It looks to me like you’ve failed pretty badly. But after a life of murder and crime, it’s not especially surprising.”

“Oh?” Maniac showed his teeth in a wide grin, “this is nothing, comparatively. And everything in this world is a comparison, little brother.”

“There is one thing I don’t understand about your story,” Leaflow put in quietly from his own bed, “what happened to your motorcycle?”

“It was taken from me when I was exiled,” Maniac shrugged, “but, as it had been bent and broken in the fight, I wasn’t greatly angered over it.”

“Hmm,” the cloaked man hemmed in such a way as to show that he would have been more than disappointed, but he said nothing more on the subject.

“Well, I think it’s time for you to tell your story, Eugene. Unless you are too chicken?” Maniac suggested.

“I’ll tell it, don’t be pushy,” Eugene gave him a glare, before bowing his head in thought. How much could he tell, and how much leave out? Despite their peculiarities, he was starting to like and even respect his two companions. Against his greater intelligence, as it was. But to tell them everything was out of the question.

“Alright, here we go,” he took a deep breath, “my story is a little bit brutal, like Maniac’s and a little odd, like Leaflow’s. But not as much as either of them.”

EUGENE’S TALE

“I won’t go into how old I was, the fact I was born or anything like that. It’s pointless to tell it, as you can see that I’m here, as I am. But I will tell you that my family is a large one and, originally, even a rich one. The Attolies of Southern California are well known in their region. But like many families of this type, we hit some difficulties. First was when my father wanted me to join the army. He had been a high-ranking general in his own time, though he had rarely seen action outside of an office. He wanted to put me on the front lines to win some 'honor’ and 'glory’ killing inoffensive people in a distant country. I guess he thought it would keep me out of trouble, too. But I refused.”

“My grandfather on my mother’s side was known as a great magician and expert thief. He did magic tricks, traveling the world, until his old age. He also picked some deep pockets on the way. When he came back he taught me a little of his knowledge, like how to open locks of all sorts, or make your way in a country without a dime in your pocket.”

“It had been kind of disgraceful for my father to marry my mother in the first place, she being the magician’s assistant on stage up until that point. It was even worse for family morale when grandfather started teaching me. But eventually he died of some incurable illness, followed shortly after by my mother. She didn’t die of illness though: she fell out of the top story window of our mansion. Whether it was a slip or a push from one of my more vindictive relatives who never loved her, we didn’t find out.”

“The next problem came when my father made a foolish investment and the money started running out. We borrowed from friends, hoping to rise again, but not even a crumb came our way. I stole bits and pieces to keep us afloat when I could, but if my father found out he would always give me a thrashing. Or a talking-to, which was worse.”

“Finally we had nothing else to turn to other than the family jewels. It would have been socially unacceptable to my family to sell the jewels to just anyone, for the scandal-mongers to wag their tongues about afterwards. So we bowed our heads and crawled on our knees to our greatest rivals. Another old, powerful family with a touch of Italian and Spanish blood to their name. The Rillcoes.”

(Here Leaflow made some noises of sudden revelation, and Maniac winked at him broadly.)

“Stop that! I didn’t met Irene until we worked at the Ruble’s estate. Honestly, I never knew that she existed. The only good thing to come of the Rillcoe line for decades, I think.”

“To go on, this is where the story gets a little brutal. Hoping to make me grow up more decorously, my father delegated me to take the jewels to the Rillcoes and beg for funds in return. My favorite cousin, who has ran the house like an older sister since my mother died, tried to change his mind. But he is deadly stubborn. He sent me out and almost did not get me back. I went to the Rillcoes house with the jewels and told them just what I thought of them, before offering the trade. Precious stones for much-needed money. But Mr. Rillcoe has had a grudge against our house dating so far back that it used to be a feud. In fact, still is in secret. He agreed to take the jewels for his private museum, but only after having taken my hand with them to punish me for my sharp tongue and the coins I had stealthily slipped into my pocket from his own pockets while we talked.”

(Eugene held up his hook, a pained expression crossing his face, along with an expression of disgust at himself.)

“I can’t believe I was caught. He took my hand with a hot sword from his museum, stuck it in a deepfreeze and laughingly told me that if my family could pay off our debts he would give it back to me as a keepsake. He also put the jewels in his precious museum. Then he stuffed the payment money down the front of my shirt and sent me home.”

“It was a long recovery, but I couldn’t rest after that. I was determined to steal back the family jewels and enough money to really get back on our feet, taking it directly from the person who had shamed me. Crippled as I was with only one hand, I decided to hire a helper or two. But I would make sure that they did not see me until the deed was done, or me them.”

“It seems that your professor Daye, Leaflow, had been a bit of a light-fingered fellow in his studying days. I heard some tales about him lifting things that weren’t his own and also found out that his secretary had stolen a lot of money from him and driven him into bankruptcy. I offered him half the goods if he would rob the Rillcoe’s vault and bring me the objects I desired from it. Meanwhile, I would be stealing the family limo and creating a distraction. He agreed, with the stipulation that his 'friend’ helped him in the task. I see now that it was you, Leaflow, and that he was scared into hiding by your capture. He has also became completely unstable in the mind, as his letters show. An interesting coincidence. Or an artful trick of providence, if you prefer.”

There was silence in the little room when he finished, all three thinking over what they had just heard.