The sun had set. Glawen Clattuc, wet and shivering, turned away from the ocean and ran up Wansey Way through the twilight. Arriving at Clattuc House, he pushed through the front portal and into the reception hall. Here, to his annoyance, he discovered Spanchetta Clattuc, at the foot of the grand staircase.
Spanchetta stopped short to take critical note of his condition. Tonight she had draped her own majestic torso in a dramatic gown of striped scarlet and black taffeta, with a black vest and silver slippers. A rope of black pearls wound round and round her great turban of dark curls; black pearls depended from her ears. Spanchetta paused only an instant to look Glawen up and down, then with averted eyes and curled lip she swept off toward the refectory.
Glawen proceeded to the chambers he shared with his father Scharde Clattuc. He immediately stepped from his dank garments, bathed under a hot shower and started to dress in dry clothes but was interrupted by the chime of the telephone. Glawen called out: “Speak!"
The face of Bodwyn Wook appeared on the screen. In a sour voice he said: “The sun has long since set. Surely you have read Floreste's letter. I expected your call."
Glawen gave a hollow laugh. “I have seen only two sentences of the letter. Apparently my father is alive.”
That is good news. Why were you delayed?"
“There was trouble on the beach, which ended up in the surf. I survived. Kirdy drowned.”
Bodwyn Wook clapped his hands to his forehead. “Tell me no more the news is disturbing! He was a Wook."
“In any event, I was just about to call you.”
Bodwyn Wook heaved a sigh. “We will report an accidental drowning and forget the whole slackening affair. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir."
"I am not altogether easy with your conduct. You should have expected such an attack.”
“So I did, sir, which is why I went to the beach. Kirdy hated the ocean and I thought that he would stand clear. In the end, he died the death he dreaded most."
"Hmf,”said Bodwyn Wook. "You have a callous nature. Suppose he shot you from ambush, and destroyed Floreste's letter: what then?"
“That would not be Kirdy's way. He wanted me to look into his face while he killed me."
"And if Kirdy altered his custom, for this particular occasion?”
Glawen considered, then gave a small shrug. “Your reprimand, in that case, would be well deserved."
“Hmf,” said Bodwyn Wook with a grimace. “I am severe, certainly, but I have never gone so far as to reprimand a corpse." He leaned back in his chair. “We need take the matter no further. Bring the letter to my office and we will read it together.”
“Very well, sir.”
Glawen started to leave the chambers, but stopped short with his hand on the doorknob. He reflected a moment, then turned back and went to the side-room which served as utility room and office. Here he made a copy of Floreste's letter. The copy he folded and placed in a drawer; the original he tucked into his pocket, then departed.
Ten minutes later Glawen arrived at the Bureau B offices on the second floor of the New Agency, and was immediately admitted into Bodwyn Wook's private chambers. As usual, Bodwyn Wook sat in his massive leather upholstered chair. He held out his hand. “If you please.” Glawen gave him the letter. Bodwyn Wook waved his hand toward a chair. “Sit.”
Glawen obeyed the instruction. Bodwyn Wook extracted the letter from its envelope, and began to read aloud using a nasal drone not at all in accord with the extravagances and felicities of Floreste’s language.
The letter was discursive and sometimes rambled off into an explication of Floreste’s philosophy. He expressed pro forma contrition for his deeds, but the words lacked conviction and Floreste seemed to intend the letter as a justification for his activities. “There is no question, and I state this positively,” wrote Floreste. “I am one of the few persons who may properly profess the designation ‘Overman’; there are few indeed like me! In any case, ordinary strictures of common morality should not apply, least they interfere with my supreme creativity. Alas! I still am like a fish in a tank, swimming with other fish, and I must obey their procedures or they will nip my fins!”
Floreste agreed that his dedication to ‘ART’ had persuaded him to irregularities. “I have taken shortcuts on the long and tedious route to my goals; I have been trapped and now my fins are nipped.”
“Had I to do it all over again.” mused Floreste, “I surely would have been more careful! Of course it is often possible to gain the accolades of Society even while one is arrogantly flouting and demeaning the most sacred dogmas which are in its very soul! In this respect Society is like a great cringing animal, the more you abuse it, the more it lavishes upon you. Ah well, too late now to worry about these niceties of conduct.
Floreste went on to ponder his crimes. “My offenses are difficult to weigh on an exact scale, or balance against the benefits derived from the so-called 'crimes’. The fulfillment of my great goal may well justify the sacrifice of a few futile wisps of humanity, which otherwise would have served no purpose.”
Bodwyn Wook paused to turn a page. Glawen observed: “The ‘futile wisps’ of course would not agree with Floreste”.
“Naturally not," said Bodwyn Wook. “His general thesis is certainly arguable; still, we cannot allow every vagabond dog-barber who calls himself an 'artist' to commit vile crimes while pursuing his Muse."
Floreste turned his attention to Simonetta; she had told him much about herself and the events of her lifetime. After storming from Araminta Station in a fury, she had wandered the Gaean Reach far and wide, living by her wits, marrying and remarrying, consorting and reconsorting, and in general living a self-willed adventurous life. While a member of the Monomantic Cult she met Zadine Babbs, or
'Zaa' as she called herself, and a brute of a woman named Sibil de Vella. The three banded together, became ‘Ordenes’ and assumed control of the cult.
Smonny soon tired of routines and restrictions, and abandoned the seminary. A month later she met Titus Zigonie, a small plump mam of submissive character. Titus Zigonie owned Shadow Valley Ranch on the world Rosalia, as well as a spacious Clayhacker Space yacht: attributes which Smonny found irresistible, and Titus Zigonie found himself married to Smonny almost before he realized what was happening.
A few years later Smonny visited Old Earth, where she chanced to encounter one Kelvin Kilduc, current Secretary of the Naturalist Society. During their conversation Secretary Kilduc mentioned the former secretary Frons Nisfit and his peculations. Kilduc suspected that Nisfit had gone so far as to sell the original Charter to a collector of ancient documents. “Not that it makes any difference,” Kilduc hastened to add. “The Conservancy now exists by its own momentum and will do so forever, Charter or no Charter or so I am assured."
"Of course,” said Smonny.” Naturally! I wonder with whom the wicked Nisfit dealt?"
“That is hard to say.”
Smonny made inquiries among the antiquarians and discovered one of the stolen documents. It was part of a lot sold off by a collector named Floyd Swaner. Smonny traced him down but it was too late; Floyd Swaner was dead. His heir and grandson Eustace Chilke was said to be something of a ne'er-do-well, always on the move, here and there, far and wide. His present whereabouts were unknown.
On Rosalia, labor was scare. Smonny contracted with Namour for a workforce of indentured Yips, and in such a fashion renewed her connection with Cadwal.
Namour and Smonny evolved a wonderful new scheme. Calyactus, Oomphaw of Yipton, had become old and foolish. Namour persuaded him to visit Rosalia for medical treatments which would renew his youth. At Shadow Valley Ranch Calyactus was poisoned; Titus Zigonie, calling himself Titus Pompo, became Oomphaw in his stead.