No Good Deed 65

It was the work of moments for the men to manhandle me toward one of the peculiarly placed drapes hanging between the window frames. They pushed me through the curtain and into a passage which bore sharply round to our left, before opening into a room devoid of windows. There was, however, a wall entirely lined with books. Of course, there was an aged crone seated in a peacock chair before it. The woman croaked, 'Ça va!', my arms were released and I felt the men move away to the rear. She crooked an already crooked finger and I stepped a little closer. Her scent was as musky as any animal's. She laughed, displaying more teeth than one might have expected.

'You are vair' 'andsome. Are you stupide, also?' She cackled again.

I declined to answer, any attempt at refutation might well have done no more than confirm her belief.

'Northrup, on dit, you are tres important, no? For the rail-ro'?'

I should have preferred her to persist with her New Orleans French, since I barely understood her English.

'Perhaps,' I answered.

This time she gave a giggle, wriggled like a tickled child and said,

'Ah, not so stupide!'

She looked down at a small deal table which she could reach from her chair, if she stretched her arm to full extent. She was fingering a playing card, one of several laid out before her in a cruciform arrangement. The card was quite old, depicting a hornéd devil atop a shallow-walled well, flanked by two child-imps chained to a ring at the front of the well. It appeared to be a trionfo from the Visconti-Sforza deck. Several years ago, I had encountered such a pack of cards in Northumberland, as part of a collection of similar bizarre - and even more improbable - curios. The woman grasped the card between two athritic fingers and flicked it toward me with remarkable dexterity. I showed scarcely less in catching it with barely a stumble.

'Take it, M'sieu Northrup. Per'aps it will bring you luck!'

My arms were seized once more from behind and I was marched through a different passage to the rear exterior of the house. By the time I turned, the door had slammed and I was in the darkness of an alley that ran the entire length of the block. Having circumnavigated the entirety of said block, I took post in the shadows on the opposite side of the thoroughfare to number 1913 North Rampart Street. No more than 5 minutes passed before the door opened and the audience began to file out onto the street, talking in excited whispers. Gottschalk emerged last of all, in the company of the woman who had been seeking satisfaction in her bed. I doubted that he could provide her with such, and so accosted the pair in mid-whisper.

'A fine show, Gottschalk!' I said, making a bow to his companion.

'Ah, Northrup, this is Miss Ginever.' The woman made an elegant courtesy, only slightly marred by the smirk which accompanied it.

'Delighted, Miss Ginever, what did you think of the show?' I enquired.

'Show, suh? It was voudoun.' Her smirk faded a little.

I raised an eyebrow at Gottschalk, 'Is that what it's called?'

Gottschalk made no reply and Miss Ginever detached her arm from his. We left him in the street in front of Marie Laveau's house of entertainment, no doubt pondering Virgil's observations on the fickle nature of women.

My new companion and I repaired to a place of entertainment somewhat more refined than the Moon and Two Feathers, although there appeared to have been no need to do so for Miss Ginever's sake. From the enthusiasm she evinced that night in the Hotel DuPont, I had no doubt she would have flourished in any Cheapside tavern.