It’s taken a long time, but the Mesdames Fugue and Toccata are finally sorted out to everybody’s satisfaction. They stuck to their story that they only paid thirty quid a week in rent, I blew a succession of raspberries, and so it went for a long time. But today we agreed on four hundred quid a week from each of the ladies, thirty of it on the official books. Though I am fond of the Mesdames, you can’t run a very superior brothel catering to all sorts of tastes above and beyond the usual without also being as tough as a pair of old boots. They are tough. So for a short moment they tried pulling a few Council strings to get me into hot water, but I simply sent each of them a weeny Kewpie doll with china-headed pins shoved up their fundamental orifices, back and front, and a third in the mouth for good measure. Oooooo-aa! The message was correctly interpreted, the Mesdames gave in.
It seems to be a watershed. Today I spread the cards for the first time, after Flo had gone to bed, and The House lapsed into silence except for Klaus’s violin.
The House is happy. The Queens of Swords are very well placed, so are the King of Pentacles and the King of Swords. Only the Page of Swords—Flo—isn’t perfectly at peace. It’s the scribbling, it’s got to be the scribbling. There isn’t a card with a meaning I can pick as related to scribbling, but it all began to settle into place when I turned up the Six of Cups, reversed. Something is going to happen soon. Especially as the next card was The Fool—an unexpected appearance? Then three Nines and four Twos—conversation, correspondence, messages. Oh, pray all this says communication is on the doorstep!