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Schell. I brought Parks his drink, and he dashed it off in three gulps. He then handed me the glass and stood unsteadily. It took a few seconds for him to get his bearings, but then he saw the toy bear lying on the table. He rushed to it, almost losing his balance in the process. "Look here," he said, "she's left it behind for me." He took it up and held it cradled in his arms like an infant. "You know, Schell, I had absolutely no recollection of this bear until I saw it hovering in the air tonight. Then it all came back to me."
    "Yes, Mr. Parks," said Schell, "this is often the way. Many doors are opened when the dead pay a visit."
    DUBIOUS RIGMAROLE
    A mile down the road from the entrance to the drive that led into the Parks estate, Antony pulled off the blanket that had concealed him and sat upright in the back seat of the Cord.
    "Sorry I had to clip Georgie," he said, removing the powdered wig from his glowing head.
    "It was probably for the best," said Schell, the first utterance he'd made since we'd gotten in the car. I could tell before we left the mansion that something was wrong with him. His not having reacted when Parks opened the terrace doors was unthinkable. I was reminded of my statement to him a few days earlier that he never made mistakes and now felt badly, as if I'd jinxed him—a concept Schell himself would scoff at.
    "Parks wants us back as soon as possible," I told Antony to assuage his guilt.
    "There's something not Jake about that guy."
    "That's an understatement," I said.
    Schell spoke no more for the entire ride home, and Antony and I both sensed it was better to leave the silence alone. When we arrived at the house, the boss said nothing but left us in the living room and went down the hall to the Bugatorium.
    "Is he pissed off at me?" asked Antony.
    "No," I said. "I think he's upset with himself."
    "What happened in there?" he asked. "All I saw was Parks come through those doors like gangbusters."
    "Once he saw you done up like the old lady, he knocked me over and was gone."
    "Where was Schell?" he asked.
    "Standing right there behind him, but it was like he couldn't move."
    "That's not right." He shook his head. "I'm gonna get a bath and get this crap off me," he said, referring to the phosphorescent makeup we'd painted on his face, neck, and arms.
    Normally, I'd have wisecracked about his dress, but everything was off-kilter. Antony retired to his room, and I went in search of Schell.
    I found him in the Bugatorium, sitting at the table amid his plants and beloved butterflies, a bridge deck in his hand and a large Taygetis echo hovering above his head like some dark thought. He was repeatedly doing one-handed cuts with the deck. I sat across from him, knowing full well that he would not speak for a long time. I'd seen him like this before. He fanned the cards, closed the fan, and then subtly crimped one. That card, the jack of spades, kept reappearing in all the tricks he ran through. The graceful flourishing of his hands, and the popping, flipping, and sailing of the cards was hypnotic. Just when I thought he might be winding down, another deck appeared as if out of thin air in his free hand, and he now worked two decks with the facility that any normal sharp might only one. He was completely lost to his thoughts, and I knew I might as well go to bed. Sleep didn't come easily that night, for it was a certainty that something was very wrong.
    I was just dozing off when I heard a knock on my door. The door opened, letting in a sliver of light. From the size of the silhouette, I knew it was Antony. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, bringing the darkness back.
    "I really botched it this time," he said.
    "What?" I asked.
    "When I was running for the car, the old lady's hat musta flown off my head. I can't find it anywhere. Can you imagine?"
    "I wouldn't worry about it," I said. "Parks doesn't seem to be that with it. Even if he finds it, he'll think it's like the bear; a gift from his