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didn't try to help. Trouble was, all these people with no name, they had no sharp edge to them. They vaguely remembered hearing this or that about a White man who was sick or a White man who couldn't walk, but in each case it turned out to be some old cripple or a man who'd already died of some disease. Not till afternoon did he finally hear a story that sounded like it might be what he needed.

He followed the rumor to a cheap boardinghouse where yes, indeed, two White men had shared a room, and one of them, the Northerner, had taken sick with a strange malady. "He eat, he drink, he pee, he do all them thing," said the valet who had cared for their room. "I change him trouser three times a day, wash everything twice a day." But they had left just that morning. "French man, he gots a letter, he pack up all, take away that empty man, now they be both all gone."

"Did he say where he taking the sick man?" asked Denmark.

"He don't say nothing to me," said the valet.

"Does anybody know?"

"You want me to get in trouble, asking question from the White boss?"

Denmark sighed. "You tell him that Frenchman and that Northerner, they owe my master money."

The valet looked puzzled. "Your master dumb enough a-lend them money?"

Denmark leaned in close. "It's a lie," he said. "You say they owe my master money, then the White boss tell you where they gone off to."

It took a moment, but finally the valet understood and retreated into the house. When he came back, he had some information. "Calvin, he the sick man, he gots a sister-in-law here. At a boardinghouse."

"What's the address?"

"White boss don't know."

"White boss hoping for a bribe," said Denmark.

The valet shook his head. "No, he don't know, that the truth."

"How'm I going to find her with no address?"

The valet shrugged. "Be maybe you best ask around."

"Ask what? 'There's a woman with a sick brother-in-law named Calvin and she living in a boardinghouse somewhere.' That get me a lot of results."

The valet looked at him like he was crazy. "I don't think you get much that way. I bet you do better, you tell them her name."

"I don't know her name."

"Why not? I do."

Denmark closed his eyes. "That's good. How about you tell me that name?"

"Margaret."

"She got her a last name? White folks has a last name every time."

"Smith," said the valet. "But she don't look big enough for smith work."

"You've seen her?" asked Denmark.

"Lots of times."

"When would you see her?"

"I run messages to her and back a couple of times."

Denmark sighed, keeping anger out of his voice. "Well now, my friend, don't that mean you know where she lives?"

"I do," said the valet.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that?"

"You didn't be asking where she live, you ask for the address. I don't know no number or letter."

"Could you lead me there?"

The valet rolled his eyes. "Sixpence to the White boss and he let me take you."

Denmark looked at him suspiciously. "You sure it ain't tuppence to the White boss and the rest to you?"

The valet looked aggrieved. "I be a Christian."

"So be all the White folks," said Denmark.

The valet, all anger having been stripped from him long ago, had no chance of understanding pointed irony. "Of course they be Christian. How else I learn about Jesus 'cept from them?"

Denmark dug a sixpence out of his pocket and gave it to the valet. In moments he was back, grinning. "I gots ten minutes."

"That time enough?"

"Two blocks over, one block down."

When they got to the door of Margaret Smith's boardinghouse, the valet just stood there.

"Step aside so I can knock," said Denmark.

"I can if you want," said the valet. "But I don't see why."

"Well if I don't knock, how'm I going to find out if she be in?"

"She ain't in," said the valet.

"How you know that?"

"Cause she over there, looking at you."

Denmark turned around casually. A White woman, a White man, and a Black servant girl were across the street, walking away.

"Who's looking at me?"

"They was looking," said the valet. "And I know she can tell you about that Calvin man."

"How do you know that?"

"That be him."

Denmark looked again. The White man was shuffling along like an old man. Empty.

Denmark grinned and gave another tuppence to the valet. "Good job, when you finally got around to telling me."

The valet took the tuppence, looked at it, and offered it back. "No, it be sixpence