19

Hildegard’s business flourished over the following months. She disposed of most of the patients she had left behind when she went to London, for she did not believe in longterm therapy. New patients abounded; she seemed to have the healing touch. She now also returned to her domestic life with Jean-Pierre, untroubled and unmarried as always.

One day in the cold early spring of the following year, Dominique rang through to Hildegard while she was with a patient; this was an unusual procedure.

“Dr. Karl Jacobs is here to see you personally.”

“Good. Tell him to wait.”

When his turn came round she greeted him warmly. “We’re in your debt, Dr. Jacobs. It’s wonderful in Paris these days without the Lucan menace. I hope . . .”

“I bring you information.”

“About them?”

Karl Jacobs began his story:

“You know, my grandfather believed they were both English earls. No matter, let him believe. The three sons did very well under their tuition. They learned to jump their horses over fences, they learned to cheat at poker and so on, in the best tradition of a gentleman. The only difficulty was between the two lords. Lord Lucan was hearing voices, and Lord Walker was also assailed by unaccountable fears which I can assure you are peculiar to white people in central Africa.

“My grandfather Delihu was convinced Walker was bewitched, which is always possible in that land. Walker complained that the sun went down too quickly and the long starry nights chilled his soul. Lucan wanted to poison Walker; his voices recommended it. But Chief Delihu Kanzia objected. If you poison a man, you see, Dr. Wolf, you can’t eat him. My grandfather thought it over, and was advised by the good people of our medicinal miracles that the boys would benefit by consuming an earl; they would become, in effect, Earl Walkers if they should eat Walker. Which is logical—no?”

“Yes,” said Hildegard. “That’s very logical. We become in some measure what we eat, not to mention what we see, hear and smell. The only difficulty is, as you know, Walker is not an earl. Lucan is the earl.”

“No matter,” said Jacobs, “there was a mistake. Two strong men were set to wait for Walker one night when he was returning from his walk to the Palace Paramount where he had a fine apartment for himself—my grandfather was very benevolent towards him. The men clubbed him to death, only it wasn’t Walker, it was Lucan. Such a quantity of blood, my grandfather said . . . The lords were practically identical, except that Lucan was a better teacher. Walker did not have much to teach except fear of the stars.”

“Lucan is dead and buried, then?”

“Lucan is dead, not buried. He was roasted and consumed by all the male children of Delihu. Some of them were rather unwell after the feast, but they are all partly little Lord Lucans now.”

“And Walker?”

“My grandfather discerned that Walker had been spared by unseen spirits of destiny. He has gone to Mexico. My kind grandfather paid his fare. I traveled to Kanzia myself to escort him to an airport. The tribes-people did not care for him at all. They preferred Lucan. But Walker got away. I even helped him to pack his few poor things, and I gave him some of my grandfather’s dollars to help him out.”

“It’s good of you to come and tell me this, Dr. Jacobs.”

“Oh, but I like you so much, Dr. Wolf. You’ve given me such courage to work here in Paris. What I especially came for was to bring you a message that Walker gave me with instructions to send it by e-mail to the German and French consuls in Chad.” He handed over to Hildegard a handwritten sheet of blue Basildon Bond writing paper. On it was written:

Pappenheim Beate, fraudulent stigmatic of Nuremberg, year 1978 forward, is now a successful psychiatrist in Paris under the false name of Dr. Hildegard Wolf. Her sumptuous offices are in the Boulevard St. Germain.

“You promised to send this?” said Hildegard.

“Of course. But again, of course, I didn’t. In any case the consuls would have thought it mad.”

Hildegard said, “I appreciate your kindness,” but she obviously meant much more.

“Tear it up,” said Karl K. Jacobs.

She did just that. She looked round the office. It looked cleaner than usual.