Even from here, I could see that she looked grubby and strange. I could also see a trickle of blood on the side of her face that was being washed away by the rain dripping from the leaves above.

I ran to her and knelt next to her and started to turn her over for a better look at her crabbed, filthy face when- When one of the highwayman's more venerable tricks was pulled on me.

Leave a helpless woman of whatever age in the middle of a path and what gallant man can resist coming to her aid?

Well, I came to her aid, all right, and that was when somebody stepped out from behind one of the trees and hit me squarely over the head.

All I had time for was a small lightning bolt of pain, and then all was darkness.

I came to in a large hut. A fire burned in a dugout in the centre of the mud floor. The warmth of the flames felt good. The only bad thing was the stench of the place. Whoever lived here was not what I'd call cleanly.

Two women sat on the other side of the flapping fire, watching me. The flames gave their flesh the brown tint of American Indians, and their shining black eyes only enhanced the impression. They sat buried deep in towels. One had a pipe stuck in the corner of her mouth. This was the grubby one. Her sister-I a.s.sumed this because their facial similarities were remarkable-had no pipe and was bald. The hues of the fire danced red and yellow on her shiny dome.

"You're Mr. Hammett."

"I guess so."

"We're glad to meet you, Mr. Hammett."

"Yeah, I could tell that by the way you slugged me."

"We just had to be sure." The bald one had done all the talking thus far.

"Sure of what?"

"That you looked up to the task." This time the grey-haired one spoke. "I'm Elena, by the way, and this is my sister Stephanie."

I struggled to a sitting position. Elena handed me a cup of something steaming. I peered inside. I didn't see anything crawling around in there, so I started sipping it. It was tea and it was good, very good.226.

227."I know you probably think we're Indians, but we're not," Stephanie said. "We're French, actually. Our parents came to Baltimore from a small town just outside Paris. Anyway, we got to the Riverworld along with Mr. Poe and all the others. Unfortunately, we had nothing in common with them back there and we have nothing in common with them now."

I looked at Elena. "You're the Witch of the Woods?"

Her sister giggled.

"Don't encourage her. That's what she wants you to do. She's starting to believe all the myths people have started about her," Stephanie said.

"Then she's not a witch?"

Stephanie giggled again. "Hardly." She smiled. "Though I'll bet Mr. Poe wishes she was."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because the other night in the woods Elena caught him with another girl. If she were really a witch, Mr. Poe could ask her to put a spell on Arda so she wouldn't be angry with his infidelity."

I thought of Arda, of her sad little face and eyes, and of dramatic Poe seemingly so faithful to her. Even with Arda, he couldn't leave other girls alone.

I sipped more tea and said, "You were going to tell me why you slugged me."

"Easily enough explained, Mr. Hammett," Stephanie said. "We want you to steal something for us tonight, and we just wanted to make sure that you were stronger than you looked."

"We heard that you were a Pinkerton, but frankly, you don't look all that hearty to us."

"Well, maybe I can put on a few pounds for you."

Both women giggled this time.

"What is it you want me to steal?"

"We're not sure," Stephanie said. "And that's the problem."

Elena offered more tea. I accepted.

Elena said, "There's a little boy named Robert who lives in the woods here."

"Yes, I met him."

"Well, Robert's actually a very nice little boy, but he has a secret."

"A secret?"

"Yes, and it's one he won't share with us," Stephanie said.

"Then how do you know he has a secret?"

"Because the oilier night we saw Mr. O'Brien beating him."

"Beating Robert?"

"Yes," Stephanie said. "I like to run through the woods at night, playing the witch, I mean. Gives people something to talk about and it's kind of fun. Anyway, I was going through the woods and I saw Robert tied to a tree and Mr. O'Brien slapping him again and again. I tried to stop him, but Mr. O'Brien just pushed me away. He doesn't seem to be frightened by witches."

"It's because you're not a witch," Elena reminded her.

"Anyway, he kept telling Robert over and over to tell him the secret. But Robert wouldn't. He's very brave for a little boy." She sighed. "Then he took something from Robert. A piece of paper. He ripped it out of the boy's pocket and then took off running. I'd been hiding in the bushes, watching it all, and so when he left, I ran up and freed Robert."

"Robert didn't tell you what O'Brien had stolen?"228."No, and in fact, when I brought it up, he started crying and ran off."

"So what you want me to steal is-"

"-is the piece of paper that Mr. O'Brien took from poor little Robert the other night."

"Great," I said. "Now I have two clients."

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you, Mr. Hammett?" Elena said. "About it being 'great' that you have two clients?"

"Of course he's being sarcastic, Elena. Pinkertons are always sarcastic."

"Don't you want to help poor little Robert, Mr. Hammett? Don't you?" Elena said.

And exactly what Was I going to say to that?229.It took me the rest of the day to find Robert and then I found him only coincidentally, following the trail to the huge stone mushroom where he stood staring at the River.

I moved over to him as carefully as I could. I didn't want to spook him. But when he sensed me, he turned around, saw me, frowned, and then took off running.

He followed a path along the River. The rain made running risky. Several times in escaping, he slipped. Several times in pursuing, I slipped.

I knew that he'd elude me completely if I didn't resort to something unpleasant. I stopped, stooped, and picked up a stone. I threw it with pleasing accuracy and caught him just below the back of the knee. The shock and pain were enough to bring him down, and just as he reached the mud, I pounced.

When I jerked him to his feet and slammed him against a tree trunk, he was completely covered with mud. He looked as if he were doing a turn in blackface.

He was out of breath and so was I, and so we stood there, his mud washing away in the slanting silver rain, exhaling ragged and sour breath at each other.

"O'Brien took a piece of paper from you the other night," I said. "I want to know what the paper said."

"None of your business."

"Kid, I could break your arm."

"Go ahead. I don't give a s.h.i.t."

"Somebody's trying to kill Arda. Don't you give a s.h.i.t about that?"

"I love Arda."

He said it in a way most boys wouldn't. Most boys would be too inhibited and shy to say it out mat way. But there was so much need and so much pain in his quick urchin words that I sensed he needed to say them out loud, and often.

"She likes you too. She told me."

His eyes scanned the muddy path we'd just come down. "That's the problem."

"What is?"

"I love her, but she only likes me."

I got cute in the way adults usually get cute with youngsters who talk about romantic love. "You don't think she's a little old for you?"

"She may be a little old for me, but then, she's too young for Poe."

"I guess you've got a point there."230.He looked sad then, and I wished I hadn't gotten cute and I wished I knew the right thing to say.

"You like it here on Riverworld?"

He shrugged. "It's not any worse than where I lived in Baltimore. At least it doesn't have rats." He raised his eyes to me and spoke in a voice far too weary for his age. "I never loved anybody before."

"It can be pretty painful."

"I get sick to my stomach, it's so painful. She shouldn't love him, she should love me."

I had to keep reminding myself that he was only ten years old.

I said, "Have you ever hated her?"

He looked baffled. "Hated her? No. I said I love her. And I do."

"Well, sometimes when you love somebody very intensely you can also hate them intensely because they have so much power over you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It may not make sense, but it's true."

He smiled. "When I hear things like that, I wonder if I ever want to be an adult."

I laughed. "I think that's a myth."

"What is?"

"That there's any such thing as adults. We're just bigger versions of kids. Anyway, being a so-called adult is the s.h.i.ts. It really is."

"You really think somebody wants to kill her?"

"Well, if they don't, they're sure doing a good job of pretending they do."

"I better not find out who it is. I'll kill him myself if I do." He touched the formidable knife shod in his leather holster.231.I paused a moment and said, "Tell me about the paper O'Brien took from you."

"That's between me and O'Brien."

"I thought maybe we were becoming friends."

"That doesn't have anything to do with it. That paper's a secret." His face hardened, as did his gaze. "I'll get it back from him one way or another."

"He could hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"You're not going to tell me about the paper?"

"No."

"You don't want me to help you?"

He shrugged. "O'Brien isn't any more afraid of you than he is of me."

"But still, the two of us-"

He smiled again. "Believe it or not, Mr. Hammett, there were a lot of people afraid of me back in Baltimore."

"I believe it."

"I may not be big or especially tough, but I'm determined." He touched his knife again. "And when somebody p.i.s.ses me off-" He shrugged again. "Well, I can be pretty relentless."