«That’s extremely kind of you,» said Shea. «Very kind indeed.» It was so very kind that he felt a twinge of suspicion.
«It is not,» said Cuchulainn. «For those with the gift of beauty, it is no more than their due that they should receive all courtesy.»
He was still looking at Belphebe, who glanced up at the darkening sky. «My lord,» she said, «I am somewhat foredone. Would it not be well to seek our rest?»
Shea said, «It’s an idea. Where do we sleep?»
Cuchulainn waved a hand toward the grove. «Where you will, darlings. No one will disturb you in the camp of Cuchulainn.» He clapped his hands. «Gather moss for the bed of my friends.»
When they were alone, Belphebe said in a low voice: «I like not the manner of his approach, though he has done us great good. Cannot you use your art to transport us back toOhio?»
Shea said, «I’ll take a chance on trying to work out the sorites in the morning. Remember, it won’t do us any good to get back alone. We’ve got to take Pete, or we’ll be up on a charge of kidnapping or murdering him, and I don’t want to go prowling through this place at night looking for him. Besides, we need light to make the passes.»
Early as they rose, the camp was already astir about them and a fire lighted. As Shea and Belphebe wandered through the camp, looking for Brodsky, they noted it was strangely silent, the elaborate confusion of the previous evening being carried on in whispers or dump show. Shea grabbed the arm of a bewhiskered desperado hurrying past with a bag of something to inquire the reason. The man bent close and said in a fierce whisper, «Sure, ‘tis that himself is in his sad mood, and keeping his booth. If you would lose your head, it would be just as well to make a noise.»
«There’s Pete,» said Belphebe.
The detective waved a hand and came toward them from under the trees. He had somehow acquired one of the deerskin cloaks, which was held under his chin with a brass brooch, and he looked unexpectedly cheerful.