Stark's office was quite lovely. The ceilings were high and plated with colored glass through which the sun shone. There was a ladder to a balcony with chairs and a table. The walls were lined with books. A gramophone stood in one corner.
Stark himself wore a long Chinese dressing gown embroidered with flowers that resembled dragons. It was a purplish blue and gleamed pleasingly in the light.
— I wanted you to come here because I think you have had a great misunderstanding. Also, certain people, I won't mention their names, think that it's funny to confuse you and lead you astray. They've actually been making a concerted effort to do so since you arrived.
He turned and looked off across the room.
— What can I say? They're my children. They cause me joy; they cause me some grief. There have been times when I have told them what to do. But now they're grown, and must be permitted, must be given their head. Isn't that what people say about horses? That sometimes they must be given their head?
James said he did not often ride horses.
— You came here, said Stark, confused in the first place by what Tommy, by what my son Tommy, had told you. He in turn had been confused and led astray by a man who used to be in treatment here, a man you know, or at least have heard of: Estrainger. Estrainger told Tommy that he was involved in a conspiracy against the government. The two spent a lot of time together. We don't know exactly what Estrainger told him, but we think he explained much of the scheme that he was a part of, without naming the other key players. Then, of course, Estrainger's treatment ended, and he went back to live in the city. Tommy's mind, not knowing who the other people in the conspiracy were, took to thinking that those of us in this house were a part of it. Imagine? It's insane.
His large face took on a look of profound sadness.
— Yes, Tommy had gone somewhat insane near the end. We had to keep him here and make sure he did not hurt himself. Our restraining of him only seemed like further proof that his theories were correct. He was sure that our family was the conspiracy Estrainger had spoken of. Even bringing Estrainger back, which we did, and having him tell Tommy that it wasn't true, that was no good.
He took a deep breath.
— Of course, at that time we didn't know that Estrainger was actually involved in a serious conspiracy. If only we had known then, we might have been able to stop whatever is happening in Washington.
He sat down in a leather chair by a massive window that overlooked the front lawn. He motioned for James to sit as well.
James sat.
— As time passed, his mania grew. He finally broke out, injuring an orderly, jumping the wall, and making off. We could do nothing but send out private investigators and such to search for him. I myself drove the streets in a car day and night looking for him. Oh, Tommy. Why did it happen?
Stark's hands covered his face a moment. James could see that his grief was a fresh thing, newly made, and not yet mediated by time or distance.
— It is a terrible thing, Stark said, to lose a son. A terrible, terrible thing. Words have little meaning in the midst of tragedy. I say terrible, but what does it mean? It means nothing, sheds no light on the expanse of Tommy's life, of all the things he did, the people he loved, the mornings when he would come into the room, into our bed, the bed where I and my wife slept. She has been dead five years now; Tommy has gone to her.
James felt a little embarrassed. He tried to think of something to say.
— I'm sorry, he said. I'm sorry about Tommy.
Stark's posture changed. He sat up.
— The killers were found, you know. Yesterday. That's why I couldn't see you. Two men. Apparently they robbed him, and when he resisted, they stabbed him to death.
His voice was full of anger.
— The men had been to prison before. Both had been released in the last month. What a terrible system it is. It makes men less able to live in the world. It changes nothing for the better. Ah, me.
He came to in a way and realized James was sitting there.
— But the main thing is, some people, McHale, Torquin, the others, their grief was allayed a bit by having you here and playing on your misunderstanding of the situation. Of course, I had you brought here so that we could learn of McHale's final hour. But when it was learned how Tommy's silly conspiracy ideas had gone into your head, well, they decided to confuse you still more. Also, my young friend, I have to tell you another thing, and you won't like it. Grieve was in on the whole thing as well. I'm sorry to tell you, but you would do well not to trust her too much. She is younger than the others, and spent much of her early life alone. Her imagination has a force that. . well, she often forgets that people can be hurt.
— She spent her early life alone? asked James. But her twin sister, didn't they play together?
— Her twin sister?
Stark's face looked confused.
— What do you mean? he asked. She has no twin sister. Her sister is six years her senior, and is far from being her twin.
James sat back in his chair. He felt like he couldn't draw breath. He'd been fooled twice. It had been Grieve. Good lord, she had been in bed with that man. He felt his heart beating fast, and a panic raced through him. What was he to do? And Carlyle. . Carlyle had deceived him. Carlyle must have been laughing at him all along.
— I have to go, he said.
— But we have more to talk about, said Stark. I wanted to offer you work here with us. You mustn't forget the trouble you're in, after all, that business with Mayne. Unfortunately, even if you didn't throw him out the window — which, by the way, can't be proved, as both Mayne's wife and his son say that you did — you would at least get manslaughter. After all, you were in the room holding a gun.
It was too much for James. His arms felt stiff against the leather. He was stuck here. What was he to do?
— I have to go, he said. I'm sorry. There's something. . there's something I need to see about. Can we talk at a different time? Tomorrow? Or later?
There was an odd glint in Stark's eye.
— Later, then. Later is better than tomorrow. Return at four.
— Thank you, said James. Thank you for telling me all this, and for shielding me from the police. You're very kind.
Stark nodded. He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and drew his dressing gown tight about himself.
Grieve, thought James in anger. I have to find Grieve.
He walked slowly to the door of Stark's suite and went through it. Torquin was on the other side. He said nothing to the man, but walked quietly to the stair. As he began down the stair, however, his pace grew faster, and he was soon running. He reached the bottom and ran towards his room. Somehow he thought he would find her there. If she was as duplicitous as it seemed, she would be there. Yes, he thought. She had known he was going to be stuck with her father for an hour or so, and as soon as he had left, she had gone to meet that other man. Pure chance had delayed his meeting with Stark and made it possible for him to know her real nature.
He burst through the door into his room. Grieve was lying on the bed. She looked up at him.