Maskerade

'He's going through the music with Herr Trubelmacher.'

'And he's... all right?'

'He sent along to the kitchen for a snack.'

Salzella shook his head. 'Astonishing.'

'And they've put the interpreter in a cupboard. They don't seem to be able to get him unfolded.'

Bucket sat down carefully. He was wearing carpet slippers.

'And–' Salzella prompted.

'And what?'

'Where did that dreadful woman go?'

'Mrs Ogg is showing her around. Well, what else could I do? Two thousand dollars, remember!'

'I am endeavouring to forget,' said Salzella. 'I promise never to talk about that lunch ever again, if you don't either.'

'What lunch?' said Bucket innocently.

'Well done.'

'She does seem to have an amazing effect though, doesn't she...'

'I don't know who you are talking about.'

'I mean, it's not hard to see how she made her money...'

'Good heavens, man, she's got a face like a hatchet!'

'They say that Queen Ezeriel of Klatch had a squint, but that didn't stop her having fourteen husbands, and that was only the official score. Besides, she's knocking on a bit...'

'I thought she'd been dead for two hundred years!'

'I'm talking about Lady Esmerelda.'

'So am I.'

'At least try to be civil to her at the soiree before the performance tonight.'

'I'll try.'

'The two thousand might be only the start, I hope. Every time I open a drawer there are more bills! We seem to owe money to everyone!'

'Opera is expensive.'

'You're telling me: Whenever I try to make a start on the books, something dreadful happens. Do you think I might just have a few hours without something awful happening?'

'In an opera house?'

The voice was muffled by the half‑dismantled mechanism of the organ.

'All right–give me middle C.'

A hairy finger pressed a key. It made a thudding noise and somewhere in the mechanism something else went woing.

'Blast, it's come off the peg... hold on again...

The note rang out sweet and clear.

'O‑kay,' said the voice of the man hidden in the exposed entrails of the organ. 'Wait until I tighten the peg...'

Agnes stepped closer. The hulking figure seated at the organ turned around and gave her a friendly grin, which was much wider than the average grin. Its owner was covered in red hair and, while short‑changed in the leg department, had obviously been first in the queue when the arm counter opened. And had also been given a special free offer of lip.

...try

'André?' said Agnes weakly.

The organist extracted himself from the mechanism. He was holding a complicated wooden bar with springs on it. 'Oh, hello,' he said.

'Er... who is this?' said Agnes, backing away from the primaeval organist.

'Oh, this is the Librarian. I don't think he has a name. He's the Librarian at Unseen University but, much more importantly, he's their organist and it turns out our organ is a Johnson, just like theirs. He's given us some spare parts–'

'Ook'

'Sorry, lent us some spare parts.'

'He plays the organ?'

'In an amazingly prehensile way, yes.'

Agnes relaxed. The creature didn't seem about to attack.

'Oh,' she said. 'Well... I suppose it's natural, because sometimes barrel‑organ men came to our village and they often had a dear little mon–'

There was a crashing chord. The orangutan raised its other hand and waved a finger politely in front of Agnes's face.

'He doesn't like being called a monkey,' said André. 'And he likes you.'

'How can you tell?,

'He doesn't usually go in for warnings.'

She stepped back quickly and grabbed the boy's arm. 'Can I have a word with you?' she said.

'We've got only a few hours and I'd really like to get this–'

'It's important.'

He followed her into the wings. Behind them, the Librarian tapped a few keys on the half‑repaired keyboard and then ducked underneath.

'I know who the Ghost is,' whispered Agnes.

André stared at her. Then he pulled her further into the shadows. 'The Ghost isn't anybody,' he said softly. 'Don't be silly. It's just the Ghost.'

'I mean he's someone else when he takes his mask off.'

Who.

'Should I tell Mr Bucket and Mr Salzella?'

'Who? Tell them about who?'

'Walter Plinge.'

He stared at her again.

'If you laugh I'll... I'll kick you,' said Agnes.

'But Walter isn't even–'

'I didn't believe it either but he said he saw the Ghost in the ballet school and there's mirrors all over the walls and he'd be quite tall if he stood up properly and he roams around in the cellars–'

'Oh, come on...'

'The other night I thought I heard him singing on the stage when everyone else had gone.'

'You saw him?'

'It was dark.'

'Oh, well...' André began dismissively.

'But afterwards I'm certain I heard him talking to the cat. Talking normally, I mean. I mean like a normal person, I mean. And you've got to admit... he is strange. Isn't he just the sort of person who'd want to wear a mask to hide who he is?' She sagged. 'Look, I can see you don't want to listen–'

'No! No, I think... well...'

'I just thought I'd feel better if I told someone.'

André smiled in the gloom. 'I wouldn't mention it to anyone else, though.'