The Devil's Mask Read Free Page A

cup, buttoned my fly (the coffee had galvanised me: I did not care who noticed), and headed across the street to my office, where I discovered that a four-year-old girl had chosen to pitch her tablecloth tent beneath my desk. Anne Carthy has pigeon toes and a marked squint, but she was born laughing and is the only person alive her father considers more important than his work.
    â€˜Apologies for the intrusion,’ said Carthy, appearing in the doorway. He looked from my desk to the mantelpiece clock. ‘I thought somebody might as well make use of the facilities, until you need them, that is.’
    I squatted behind my chair, peeled back the tent-flap and asked, ‘Can I have a pound of eels’ eyes and some minced dog?’
    Anne squealed and wriggled out from the far side of the desk, then busied herself seriously, reefing in the tablecloth.
    I took in the terrain of my desktop. Unread files lay to one side, and the papers I had already examined stood in their neat heap to the other. Between them were the documents I’d been working on last night, corners squared, next to my ledger, inkpot and quill pen. All as it should be. Yet the carefully imposed order was upset by an extra sheaf of papers,bursting from their blue ribbon, plonked at an angle on top of my blotter.
    I reached quickly to remove the offending bundle, prompting Carthy to laugh behind me. His office is always a bugger’s muddle.
    â€˜Keep your hair on!’ My resolution to visit the barber hardened despite his jovial tone. ‘I took the liberty of prioritising that folder for today. Assuming, of course, that it’s no trouble for you to do some work. I thought you could perhaps even make a start before lunch.’
    â€˜I’ll consider it. No, really, I will. What’s inside?’
    â€˜The Belsize made port today. She’s owned by the Western Trading Company. I thought I might add a bit of urgency to your quest by suggesting you examine their records today. That is the most recent instalment.’
    â€˜ Ship arrives in port. Stop the press. Why the sudden rush to welcome the Belsize ?’
    Carthy’s lips folded into his beard and his porcupine eyebrows dipped. But he seemed to think better of what he was about to tell me. ‘Check the file. See if it turns up anything,’ he said.
    He stood aside to steer his daughter, now a ghoul beneath the tablecloth, from the room, following her before I could add another question. This has long been his method as a teacher, to set me off on a journey with the barest clues as to the destination, and let me feel my way there for myself. I hung my jacket on the back of my chair. The strip of wallpaper to the right of the window casement lolled at me, an indolent tongue. It hadn’t unpeeled further since yesterday, and the stain behind it had not spread, whichsuggested that the previous evening had not been Anne’s bath night.
    I prised up the sash. Fresh air could only help me in my battle to stay awake.
    Which I managed, despite the stultifying muddle of paperwork that sprang from the blue ribbon once I’d undone it. Why couldn’t shipping clerks sequence forms chronologically? And, given that they could not, why hadn’t somebody at the Dock Company imposed order upon the chaos before passing the bundle on? The knowledge that this was what they were paying me to do didn’t help. Boredom gnawed at my resolve. Once upon a time, lawyering promised liberty from Father and the family business, but no such freedom has materialised; I am still in debt for the payment he made to Carthy to secure my articled clerkship. What’s more, the old man accepted my decision not to join the family firm with an equanimity bordering on relief. He even assured me that my share of the business would be well looked after by Sebastian and John, until such time as it became my inheritance, effectively placing me in the thrall of my younger brothers.
    I chose