Continued from §.08.
Aymon Degarre found Learc Demelody smoking her ever-present whale bone pipe in the ministry library, pouring through a stack of papers. Before he could get close enough to inspect the content of the pulpy pile, Learc blew a cloud of smoke towards him without removing her eyes from the items before her, as if warding against some noxious insect.
“Go away.”
“Madam.”
“Shoo.”
“I can not.”
“Can not or will not?”
Still she did not meet his eye, her attention fixed to the papers before her.
“The lieutenant has assigned me to the Adair case, madam.”
Finally, Learc looked at the man. He found her eyes disquieting, for they were large and glassy, like the eyes of a fish.
“Wert thou primed of the affair?” Learc inquired.
“Yes. Thoroughly. No one knows much of the matter, so there was little to impart.”
“Very well. I’m headed down to the theatre.”
“Whatever for?”
“To catch the thief.”
Degarre furrowed his brow in confusion and followed the older inspector out of the building into the whirring streets of the smouldering city and in short order found himself within the garish lobby of Mazrak’s Grand Theatre, wherefrom a gathering of patrons milled, listlessly conversing betwixt swills of ambered wine.
“I’ve long held theatres to be strange aberrations,” Learc declared abruptly.
“Why’s that?”
“In constantly seeking the drama of artifice they are apt to miss that which is transpiring around them everyday.”
“I fancy that is because they’re dissatisfied with mundane drama. The reason I joined the ministry was because of a play of General Godwin Galorion I saw as a child.”
The accipiter looked at the young man with a expression he could not place and then turned towards the ticket counter, wholly disinterested in the crowd and addressed the old clerk without emotion.
“Has Ms. Harrington’s hat been recovered?”
The clerk shook his head.
“I was verged to ask thee the same.”
“Thy superiors shalt, I presume, in no wise object to our presence?”
“Nay. In truth, quite the contrary,” he removed two tickets from beneath the counter and handed them to Learc, “Courtesy of Madam Ibbot.”
She took the tickets with a nod of appreciation, “Give her my thanks.”
With that Learc and Degarre traversed the flight of stairs to the second floor and moved down the main corridor to the upper stands of the auditorium. Learc paused as Degarre settled down into the small box-seats.
“What art thou doing?”
“Watching the show.”
She shook her head and counted the seats.
“They’re only eight seats available.”
Degarre looked at the ticket he had been handed, “Ah, of course, yes, these seats are reserved.”
“Which means that to steal Harrington’s hat the thief was either garbed as a valet or reserved a seat himself.”
“Could it be that the rogue is a woman?”
“I find it unlikely. Though I know not whether the one who stole Harrington’s hat and Adair’s coat was the same that posed as the latter, it strikes me as likely. If not, why pass off the merchandise?”
“That’s sound. But why a man?”
Learc moved to the white polished balcony and peered down at the stage as the curtain rose to reveal the sundry actors thereupon.
“A female valet would look glaringly out of place, as the theatre does not hire them.”
Degarre pondered the issue a moment, nodding to himself.
“So as to have a staff strong of arm should any actor or patron require assistance with their luggage.”
“Aye. Most of the valets double as gophers for the production company. Our thief is not a woman.”
Continued in §.10.
/////Logos Literature 
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