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datatime: 2022-12-08 01:12:53 Author:auqzmXrB

'May I ask . . . your name?'

He turned on his heel and made a smart withdrawal.

'But you don't believe it?'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'Illusionist,' she said.

'Oh yes. I lived with Swann seven and a half years, and I got to understand him as well as anybody ever could. I learned to sense when he wanted me around, and when he didn't. When he didn't, I'd take myself off somewhere and let him have his privacy. Genius needs privacy. And he was a genius, you know. The greatest illusionist since Houdini.'

Valentin had appeared with a glass of milk. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. As he made to leave, she said: 'Valentin. The letter?'

'Is this wise?' he said.

He looked at her strangely, almost as though she'd said something obscene.

'May I ask . . . your name?'

Valentin had appeared with a glass of milk. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. As he made to leave, she said: 'Valentin. The letter?'

He looked at her strangely, almost as though she'd said something obscene.

He looked at her strangely, almost as though she'd said something obscene.

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him his behaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of his career. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'Don't blame New York,' he said. 'It can't help itself.'

'Did you ever see his performance?'

Valentin had appeared with a glass of milk. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. As he made to leave, she said: 'Valentin. The letter?'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'Maybe,' she replied, nodding. 'Perhaps what happened to Swann would have happened anyway, wherever we'd been. People keep telling me: it was an accident. That's all. Just an accident.'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

Harry wanted to say Swann would have been mad not to have done so, but the comment was inappropriate. She didn't want blandishments; didn't need them. Didn't need anything, perhaps, but her husband alive again.

'I'm sorry. My name is Swann, Mr. D'Amour. Dorothea Swann. You may have heard of my husband?'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

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