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〃Make me forget；〃 he said again。 〃I want an end to this。〃
The mystif was speaking； Gentle saw； though whatever incantations its lips shaped were spoken in a voice he couldn't hear。 The breath that bore them made the flame he'd set on the floor flicker； however； and as the mystif instructed its master in forgetfulness the memories went out with the flame。
Gentle rummaged for the box of matches and struck one； using its light to find the smoking wick； then reigniting it。 But the night of storm had passed back into history； and Pie 'oh' pah； beautiful； obedient； loving Pie 'oh' pah； had gone with it。 He sat down in front of the candle and waited； wondering if there was some coda to e。 But the house was dead from cellar to eaves。
〃So；〃 he said to himself。 〃What now； Maestro？〃
He had his answer from his stomach； which made a little thunder of its own。
〃You want food？〃 he asked it； and it gurgled its reply。 〃Me too；〃 he said。
He got up and started down the stairs； preparing himself for a return to modernity。 As he reached the bottom； however； he heard something scraping across the bare boards。 He raised the candle； and his voice。
〃Who's there？〃
Neither the light nor his demand brought an answer。 But the sound went on； and others joined it； none of them pleasant： a low； agonized moan； a wet； dragging sound； a whistling inhalation。 What melodrama was his memory preparing to stage for him； he wondered； that had need of these hoary devices？ They might have inspired fear in him once upon a time； but not now。 He'd seen too many horrors face to face to be chilled by imitations。
〃What's this about？〃 he asked the shadows； and was somewhat surprised to have his question answered。
〃We've waited for you a long time；〃 a wheezing voice told him。
〃Sometimes we thought you'd never e home；〃 another said。 There was a fluting femininity in its tone。
Gentle took a step in the direction of the woman； and the rim of the candle's reach touched what looked to be the hem of a scarlet skirt； which was hastily twitched out of sight。 Where it had lain； the bare boards shone with fresh blood。 He didn't advance any further； but listened for another pronouncement from the shadows。 It came soon enough。 Not the woman this time； but the wheezer。
〃The fault was yours；〃 he said。 〃But the pain's been ours。 All these years； waiting for you。〃
Though corrupted by anguish； the voice was familiar。 He'd heard its lilt in this very house。
〃Is that Abelove？〃 he said。
〃Do you remember the maggot…pie？〃 the man said； confirming his identity。 〃The number of times I've thought： That was my error； bringing the bird into the house。 Tyrwhitt would have no part of it； and he survived； didn't he？ He died in his dotage。 And Roxborough； and Godolphin； and you。 All of you lived and died intact。 But me； I just suffered here； flying against the glass but never hard enough to cease。〃 He moaned； and though his rebuke was as absurd as it had been when first uttered； this time Gentle shuddered。 〃I'm not alone； of course；〃 Abelove said。 〃Esther's here。 And Flores。 And Byam…Shaw。 And Bloxham's brother…in…law； do you remember him？ So there'll be plenty of pany for you。〃
〃I'm not staying；〃 Gentle said。
〃Oh； but you are；〃 said Esther。 〃It's the least you can do。〃
〃Blow out the candle；〃 Abelove said。 〃Save yourself the distress of seeing us。 We'll put out your eyes； and you can live with us blind。〃
〃I'll do no such thing；〃 Gentle said； raising the light so that it cast its net wider。
They appeared at its farthest edge； their viscera catching the gleam。 What he'd taken to be Esther's skirt was a train of tissue； half flayed from her hip and thigh。 She clutched it still； pulling it up around her； seeking to conceal her groin from him。 Her decorum was absurd； but then perhaps his reputation as a womanizer had so swelled over the passage of the years that she believed he might be aroused by her； even in this appalling state。 There was worse； however。 Byam…Shaw was barely recognizable as a human being； and Bloxham's brother…in…law looked to have been chewed by tigers。 But whatever their condition they were ready for revenge； no doubt of that。 At Abelove's mand they began to close upon him。
〃You've already been hurt enough；〃 Gentle said。 〃I don't want to hurt you again。 I advise you to let me pass。〃
〃Let you pass to do what？〃 Abelove replied； his terrible wounding clearer with every step he took。 His scalp had gone； and one of his eyes lolled on his cheek。 When he lifted his arm to point his next accusation at Gentle； it was with the littlest finger； which was the only one remaining on that hand。 〃You want to try again； don't you？ Don't deny it！ You've got the old ambition in your head！〃
〃You died for the Reconciliation；〃 Gentle said。 〃Don't you want to see it achieved？〃
〃It's an abomination！〃 Abelove replied。 〃It was never meant to be！ We died proving that。 You render our sacrifice worthless if you try； then fail again。〃
〃I won't fail；〃 Gentle said。
〃No； you won't；〃 Esther replied； dropping her skirt to uncoil a garrote of her gut。 〃Because you won't get the chance。〃
He looked from one wretched face to the next and realized that he didn't have a hope of dissuading them from their intentions。 They hadn't waited out the years to be diverted by argument。 They'd waited for revenge。 He had no choice but to stop them with a pneuma； regrettable as it was to add to their sum of suffering。 He passed the candle from his right hand to his left； but as he did so somebody reached around him from behind and pinned his arms to his torso。 The candle went from his fingers and rolled across the floor in the direction of his accusers。 Before it could drown in its own wax； Abelove picked it up in his fingered hand。
〃Good work； Flores；〃 Abelove said。
The man clutching Gentle grunted his acknowledgment； shaking his prey to prove he had it securely caught。 His arms were flayed； but they held Gentle like steel bands。
Abelove made something like a smile； though on a face with flaps for cheeks and blisters for lips it was a misbegotten thing。
〃You don't struggle；〃 he said； approaching Gentle with the candle held high。 〃Why's that？ Are you already resigned to joining us； or do you think we'll be moved by your martyrdom and let you go？〃 He was very close to Gentle now。 〃It is pretty；〃 he said。 He cocked his eye a little； sighing。 〃How your face was loved！〃 he went on。 〃And this chest。 How women fought to lay their heads upon it！〃 He slid his stump of a hand into Gentle's shirt and tore it open。 〃Very pale！ And hairless！ It's not Italian flesh； is it？〃
〃Does it matter？〃 said Esther。 〃As long as it bleeds； what do you care？〃
〃He never deigned to tell us anything about himself。 We had to take him on trust because he had power in his fingers and his wits。 He's like a little God； Tyrwhitt used to say。 But even little Gods have fathers and mothers。〃 Abelove leaned closer； allowing the candle flame within singeing distance of Gentle's lashes。 〃Who are you really？'' Abelove said。 〃You're not an Italian。 Are you Dutch？ You could be Dutch。 Or a Swiss。 Chilly and precise。 Huh？ Is that you？〃 He paused。 Then： 〃Or are you the Devil's child？〃
〃Abe