The Pale Blue Eye by Louis Bayard

Author:Louis Bayard [Bayard, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780719567049
Publisher: Hodder And Stoughton Ltd.
Published: 2007-04-19T05:00:00+00:00

I might have begged him then to recall what love can do to a young man. But this was Ethan Allen Hitchcock. Against his hide, Cupid's whole arsenal had made scarcely a nick. "As you know," he continued, "this is far from being Mr. Poe's first infraction. I have not even mentioned the dozen or so occasions over the past few weeks alone when he left his quarters after tattoo for the purpose of... well, why don't you tell me, Mr. Landor, what is it that draws him to Mr. Cozzens' hotel night after night?"

Oh, my. Well, in the end, I had to smile, Reader. Thinking how clever Poe and I had believed ourselves in hiring a paid Army escort and shutting ourselves behind closed doors, drinking and chattering until dawn. Poe hadn't seen anyone following him, had he? And so we trusted the evidence of our senses, when we should have relied on our history with Thayer and Hitchcock. These were men who had to know everything. Hence, they knew everything.

Hitchcock laid his hands on his desk and drew himself toward me. "I never had him intercepted, Mr. Landor. I granted you both that latitude and never cried foul and never once demanded an explanation. Nor did I ever hold you to account for frequenting Mr. Havens' establishment. You will see, perhaps, that I am not so rigid a man as you believe. And should you need further confirmation, I will gladly inform you that the only person to be disciplined for last night's fiasco is Lieutenant Kinsley."

"Kinsley?"

"Of course. He was the officer detailed to watch South Barracks last night. He manifestly failed in his duty."

"But Poe was--" "Indeed he was. However, my running into him must fall under the category of an unfortunate accident. Had I not been preoccupied by business, I might well have toasted his good health and congratulated him on his pluck. Even now, I cannot in good conscience punish a fellow simply because fate contrived against him."

I waited for all the physical signs of relief--the uncoiling in my shoulders and chest, the lightening of my heartbeat--but none of them came. I couldn't believe it, you see. I couldn't believe we were in the clear, and in fact, we weren't. Stealing after us came Hitchcock's voice, a straight line through the dark.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Landor, I can no longer consent to Poe's being your agent in this affair."

I stared at him.

"I don't see... we've made... Captain, we've made great progress thanks to him. He's been a great help to me."

"I don't doubt it. But with two cadets dead and a third missing, I cannot even think of placing another young man in harm's way." The oddest sensation then, Reader: a kind of searing in my face and my neck. Shame, I now suspect. For until very recently, how little care I had ever given to Poe's safety! I had followed his meetings with Lea and Artemus as a reader would, never once thinking that behind the yarn lay a real person, with real flesh and blood--which might at any second be forfeited.

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