The rain had returned, and the big, splashing drops hadn't fallen into his thoughts. But they were coursing in streams down his cheeks, dripping from his eyebrows. He brushed them away, and stared at the forest. The shadows had merged. The flowering beauty was like a mirage that had never been, and never could be. There was only the wash of the rain on the forest roof, the drip-drop-drip on the molding carpet of dead leaves.
Albert Fetzer came back that night. The click in the visagraph, the deeper blackness of the walls, the silent opening of the casement window—these were the now recognizable signs of his coming.
Lucifer hadn't been able to sleep. Nina had already gone to bed, after pressing her lips to his cheek in a swift gesture that left him more unsettled than ever.
When he realized that Fetzer was coming, Lucifer sat up on the couch and drew the sheet around his shoulders. In a moment the stocky figure squeezed through the window.
"Hi, there," Fetzer called softly. "You awake, Dr. Brill?"
"I haven't slept."
"How'd things go today?"
How had things gone?
"I'm not sure," Lucifer evaded.