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there hasn't been a death in your family…？〃
〃Iced tea would be lovely； thank you。〃
Winifred； feeling a strangely pleasant confusion； bustled back into the pantry； poured a glass over ice； added a fresh sprig of mint from the planter in her windowsill； placed the glass on a silver tray； and returned。
〃There you are； Mr。 Pendergast。〃
〃You are too kind。〃
〃Won't you sit down？〃
They sat in the parlor。 The polite man crossed his legs and sipped his tea。 Close up； Winifred could see he was younger than she'd first thought： what she had taken to be white hair was instead remarkably blond。 He was quite handsome and elegant； too； if one didn't mind such pale eyes and skin。
〃I rent three rooms upstairs；〃 she explained。 〃You have to share the bath； I'm afraid； but there's nobody presently…〃
〃I'll take the entire floor。 Would five hundred dollars a week be acceptable？〃
〃Oh； my。〃
〃I will pay extra； naturally； for my board。 I'll only be requiring a light breakfast and the occasional afternoon tea and dinner。〃
〃That's rather more money than I usually ask。 I wouldn't feel right…〃
The man smiled。 〃I fear you may find me a difficult boarder。〃
〃Well； then…〃
He sipped his tea； placed it on the coaster； and leaned forward。 〃I don't want to shock you； Miss Kraus； but I do need to tell you who I am and why I'm here。 You asked me if there has been a death。 In fact； as you probably know； there has。 I am a special agent for the FBI investigating the murder in Medicine Creek。〃 He flashed his badge； as a courtesy。
〃A murder！〃
〃You haven't heard？ On the far side of town； discovered last night。 You will no doubt read all about it in tomorrow morning's paper。〃
〃Oh； dear me。〃 Winifred Kraus felt dazed。 〃A murder？ In Medicine Creek？〃
〃I'm sorry。 Does that change your mind about taking me in as a lodger？ I'll understand if it does。〃
〃Oh no； Mr。 Pendergast。 Not at all。 I'd feel much safer； really； having you here。 A murder； how very dreadful 。 。 。〃 She shuddered。 〃Who on earth…？〃
〃I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you as a source of information on the case。 And now； may I examine my rooms？ There's no need to show me upstairs。〃
〃Of course。〃 Winifred Kraus smiled a little breathlessly as she watched the man climb the stairs。 Such a polite young gentleman； and so 。 。 。 Then she remembered the murder。 She rose and went to the telephone。 Perhaps Jenny Parker would know more。 She picked up and dialed the number； shaking her head。
After a swift inspection； Pendergast chose the smallest room…the one in the rear…and laid his valise on its princess bed。 On the bureau stood a swivel mirror； in front of which was set a china washbasin and pitcher。 He pulled open the top drawer； releasing the faint scent of rosewater and oak。 The drawer was lined with shellacked newspapers from the early 1900s； advertising farming equipment。 In a corner stood a chamber pot； the lid placed upside down in the old…fashioned way。 The walls were papered in a Victorian flowered print； much faded； the moldings were painted green and the ceiling was beadboard。 The curtains were hand…embroidered lace。
He returned to the bed； laid one hand lightly upon the bedspread。 It had been needlepointed in a pattern of roses and peonies。 He examined the stitching closely。 Hand done。 It had taken someone…no doubt Miss Kraus herself…at least a year。
Pendergast remained motionless； staring at the needlepoint； breathing the antique air of the bedroom。 Then； straightening； he walked across the creaking floorboards to the old rippled window and looked out。
To his right and down； set back from the house； Pendergast could see the shabby low metal roof of the gift shop。 Behind； a cracked cement walkway ran down to a depression leading to a rupture in the earth； where it disappeared into darkness。 Beside the gift shop； a peeling sign read：
KRAUS'S KAVERNS
THEBIGGESTCAVE INCRYCOUNTY； KANSAS
MAKE AWISH IN THEINFINITYPOOL
PLAY THEKRYSTALCHIMES
SEE THEBOTTOMLESSPIT
TOURS AT10：00AND 2：00 DAILY
TOURGROUPS； BUSESWELE
He tried the window； found it opened with surprising ease。 A muggy flow of air came into the room； carrying with it the smell of dust and crops。 The lace curtains bellied。 Outside； the great sea of yellow corn stretched to the horizon； broken only by distant lines of trees along the bottomlands of Medicine Creek。 A flock of crows rose out of the endless corn and fell back in； feasting on the ripe ears。 Thunderheads piled up to the west。 The silence was as unending as the landscape。
In the hallway at the bottom of the stairs； Winifred Kraus replaced the telephone in its cradle。 Jenny Parker wasn't in。 Perhaps she was in town； getting news。 She'd try calling again after lunch。
She wondered if she should bring the nice man； Mr。 Pendergast； a second glass of tea。 Southerners were so well…bred； she believed they drank a lot of iced tea on big shady verandas and such。 It was such a hot day and he'd walked from town。 She went into the kitchen； poured a fresh glass； began mounting the stairs。 But no…she should let him unpack； have his privacy。 What was she thinking？ News of the murder had her all in a tizzy。
She turned to descend the staircase。 But then she stopped again。 A voice had sounded from upstairs： Pendergast had said something。 Was he speaking to her？
Winifred cocked her head； listening。 For a moment； the house was still。 Then Pendergast spoke again； and this time； she made out what he was saying。
〃Excellent；〃 came the dulcet voice。 〃Most excellent。〃
Six
The road was as straight as the nineteenth…century surveyor's original line of sight； and it was flanked by two unmoving walls of corn。 Special Agent Pendergast walked down the shimmering road； his polished black oxfords…handmade by John Lobb of St。 James's Street； London…leaving a row of faint impressions in the sticky asphalt。
Ahead； he could see where heavy vehicles had e in and out of the cornfield； leaving brown tracks and clots of dirt on the road。 Approaching； he turned to make his way along the crude access road that had been bulldozed into the cornfield to the murder site。 His feet sank into the powdery earth。
Where the access widened into a makeshift parking lot a state trooper cruiser sat； motor running； water dripping into the dirt from the AC。 Yellow crime…scene tape blocked off the site； wound around tall stakes hammered into the earth。 Inside the cruiser a trooper sat； reading a paperback。
Pendergast approached and rapped on the window。 The man gave a start； then quickly recovered。 Hastily putting the paperback aside； he got out and faced Pendergast； squinting in the hot sun； hooking his arms into his belt loops。 A river of cool air flowed out。
〃Who the hell are you？〃 he demanded。 The trooper's arms were covered with fine red hair and the leather of his boots creaked as he moved。
Pendergast displayed his shield。
〃Oh。 FBI。 Sorry。〃 The trooper looked around。 〃Where's your car？〃
〃I'd like to take a look at the scene；〃 Pendergast replied。
〃Be my guest。 There's nothing left； though。 It's all been carted away。〃
〃No matter。 Please don't allow me to disturb you further。〃
〃Quite all right； si