Peter."
"Well, just so. Because you were away from Baltimore, and things change, by the bye. Quentin..."
I leaned forward with interest.
"I must tell you, though it is not comfortable..."
"Peter?"
"I have begun speaking with another fellow from Washington about taking your place here," he managed to blurt out. "He is a good lawyer. He reminds me of you. Understand, Quentin, that I am simply overwhelmed with all the work."
I sat in silence and surprise-not surprise that Peter would be engaging another attorney, but surprise that, after all my yearnings to leave these chambers, this would stir something sad in me.
"This is good news, Peter," I said after a moment.
"The practice is in peril-there have been some financial hitches, and we are hard pushed. It is all knocked into a cocked hat and could crumble in the next year if something isn't done. The firm your father built for us."
"I know you will manage," I said with a slight waver in my voice that seemed to invite Peter to plead his case.
"You must realize, Quentin, that you can have your position back. Today, any hour, if you wish! We are all quite glad to hear of your return. Hattie especially-you must address that situation immediately, you know. Her aunt has practically built a fortress around her to prevent you from seeing her."
"Of course, she is merely trying to guard her welfare. Now that you mention the topic, there is a matter of Auntie Blum calling at my house...I am certain I can sway her away from any bitterness, though."
Peter glared in a manner that suggested he did not agree.
Indeed, I knew that while I was so immersed in my undertaking, any attempt to reconcile with Hattie's family, even if successful, would only reverse its course once the demands for attention to the various questions of the future could not be met. I would have to wait a bit longer before repairing those relations. I adjourned my interview with Peter, promising to explain more later.
Meanwhile, I was now frequenting the athenaeum reading rooms, where the very same loquacious gentleman whom I had encountered before, the mysterious Poe enthusiast, continued his regular appearances, reading the newspapers and gushing over the inept articles appearing in print on Edgar Poe.
One morning, I took a seat on the stone steps of the athenaeum before it opened and waited for the doors to be unlatched. Once inside, I chose a chair across from the place where I knew the gentleman preferred, so I could watch him more closely. When he arrived, though, he, seemingly oblivious to my motives, found a different table. I did not want it to seem like I was following him, so I kept a distance. The next day, I loitered near the clerk's desk, to see where the other gentleman would situate himself. I claimed a nearby place. I could now observe his every movement.
He was most galling in the joyfulness he exhibited at reading about the circumstances of Poe's death.
"Ah, did you see this one now?" He turned to a woman at the neighboring table, holding up a newspaper. "They're wondering what happened to all the money he scraped together from lecturing in Richmond. If it had been on Poe's person, where is it now? That's a question. The editors of the press are shrewd." There he laughed as if at an infinitely witty jest.
Shrewd, he says! "Sir, how is it you laugh in such a manner?" I asked, knowing I should instead keep to myself. "Do you not think this a subject of the most serious gravity, deserving higher decorum?"
"It is most serious," he said, his unruly eyebrows straightening on command. "Serious as a judge. Yet most critical, too, that we shall be told in full what happened to him."
"And do you not take these reports with a considerable modicum of salt? Do you think every item you read proclaims the truth, as some prophet of a Gospel?"
He gave the idea of his credulity strenuous thought. "Why else would they waste fine ink on it, dear man, if it weren't true? I should not think like the Hebrews, and not believe that newer testaments are also smarter, instead chasing all false Messiahs with 'lo here, lo there!'"
In my agitation, I left the athenaeum for the remainder of the day. I suspected that the pest's desire to gawk would expire quickly, and was relieved when there came days he failed to appear; but then he would be resurrected the following day. Sometimes, given some