to regain some balance in the interview, and make it clear I was not without my own sources of knowledge.
"If they serve certain powerful factions against me for my pecuniary interests back in Paris, I am afraid it is not so simple."
He spoke in that open tone of his, as though you were firmly on his side of affairs, which made you temporarily forget you were anything but. He had to push aside strands of his hair from his eyes; his hair now looked thin and soapy.
"You see, Brother Quentin, how a man can be pushed to live behind masks. Never able to freely be myself. And I am quite good as myself, yes, monsieur. Thundering good! In the courtroom, all eyes, even those of the lawyers opposing me, would look to me for the truth. I am happy there. I am not ready to hang up my fiddle, not yet."
"Yet you carry on your cheap charade to bully us," I protested. "You mimic Auguste Duponte."
I noticed a painting of Duponte leaning in the corner of the room. I had seen Von Dantker's work at various stages of progress, and recognized this canvas as his. I could not help remarking on how complete the finished portrait seemed-as though it had completed Duponte himself. It captured his exact likeness but also more than his likeness.
The Baron laughed good-naturedly. "Has Duponte appreciated the humor of it, Brother Quentin? My small jest among serious business, that is all. Duponte does not know about wearing masks. He believes that if he does not, he will be attached to reality. In fact, without any masks, he is-we are-nothing."
I thought about that singular pointed grin that Duponte had innovated for his sittings with Von Dantker, which could be seen creeping onto his face in the portrait. A smile that was not really his...Perhaps Duponte did know about wearing masks, after all? I grabbed hold of the portrait and placed it under my arm.
"I shall take this, Baron; it is not your property."
He shrugged.
I continued, perhaps hoping to induce a bigger reaction, "You know-you must know-that Duponte shall resolve this. He is the real basis for Dupin."
"Do you believe that is important to him?"
I cocked my head with interest. It was not the reply I'd expected.
"Has Duponte told you how he and I came to know each other?" The Baron looked at me with a serious air. "Of course the answer is no," the Baron went on, shaking his head knowingly. "No, he too much lives inside himself. Duponte needs to feel people are interested in him, but finds the act of speaking of himself too tiring. We were both in Paris. There was a lady named Catherine Gautier accused of murder, a woman most important to your friend."
I called to mind the policeman at the cafe in Paris who said changes had come over Duponte when the woman he loved was hanged for murder and he could not stop it. "Duponte loved her, didn't he?"
"That is nothing! I loved her too. Oh, do not look at me so, like we are in some light novel; I do not mean what you think. No, Duponte and I were not rivals for her affection. But she was attractive enough, and brilliant enough, for any man who knew her to love her. You ask, how could we live in a world where such a woman could be accused of bludgeoning her own sister to death? The idea is absurd."
Catherine Gautier, the Baron said, was of the poorer class, but virtuous and known as very intelligent. She was Duponte's closest and (some said) only companion. One day, this woman's sister was found murdered in a vile fashion, and Duponte's lover was suspected at once. Because the police were Duponte's enemies after he had embarrassed them by solving crimes they could not, many believed that the accusation represented their reprisal against Duponte by turning against Catherine.
"She was innocent then?"
"Innocent enough" came the Baron's peculiar answer after a pause.
"So you were acquainted with her?"
"Dear friend, has he really never said anything about it? Your companion for so many long months now. Yes, I knew her." He laughed. "I was her lawyer, dear man! I defended her against that terrific charge of murder."
"You?" I asked. "But she was executed. You never lost a case."
"Yes, that is true. I suppose that record was somewhat knotted up by Mademoiselle Gautier."
I looked down, thinking of Duponte's failure. "Duponte failed to free her. He will return to