this in context.” Nutall told Professor Evans the story as Thalia had told it to him. “I can feel nothing but gratitude for whatever this phenomenon may be, as it spared Miss Cutler severe injury if not something much worse.”
Professor Evans had regained his composure during Nutall’s explanation. Now he lit his pipe and puffed on it in silence as he stared at Thalia. When he spoke at last, it was with far less friendliness. “May I see the afflicted member? Show me your hands, Miss Cutler.”
Thalia removed her gloves and held out both hands. The left wrist was bruised and scraped, swollen visibly in comparison with the right.
Professor Evans peered at her for another three puffs of the pipe. “Your parents.”
It took Thalia a moment to realize that Professor Evans was asking her a question. “Dead, sir.”
Professor Evans gave her a thin little smile. “You have my sympathy for your loss. Tell me all about them.”
“My father was Jack Cutler, a stage magician like me. He died three years ago. That’s when I took over his act.”
“Was he a Trader?” It was clear that Professor Evans expected the answer to be no. When Thalia had identified her father’s profession, his face had fallen in disappointment.
“He was a Solitaire,” Thalia replied.
“What of his parents?”
“I don’t know.” Thalia looked to Nutall for help. “He was an orphan.”
“That’s right,” said Nutall. “Jack Cutler knew nothing of any family. He was my dearest friend for many years. He was a widower when we met and never spoke of any relations, alive or dead.”
“Did he ever display signs of Trader behavior?” Professor Evans asked.
“He wasn’t as rich as Croesus, if that’s what you mean,” answered Nutall.
“I mean nothing of the sort. Was he adept at some particular field of business or study? Was he musical? Did he have a singularly mercurial temper?”
Thalia looked blankly at Nutall, who looked back with eyebrows raised. Thalia met Professor Evans’ inquiring stare. “My father was a very fine stage magician.”
“He was not musical, nor was his temper at all out of the ordinary. He earned his money. It didn’t come to him from any trust fund.” Nutall added, “He was as fine a Solitaire as I have ever met.”
“Your mother, Miss Cutler, who was she? Was she a Trader?”
“She died when I was just a child,” Thalia replied. “Her name was Margaret Cutler.”
“Margarete, actually,” said Nutall. “Before she married, her surname was Gruenewald. She came from Vienna.”
“And you?” Professor Evans turned his full attention to Nutall. “You are an uncle, perhaps?”
“I am no relation to Miss Cutler at all. As I said, her father was my closest friend. Anything I know of Miss Cutler’s mother’s antecedents comes from stories her father told me. Before he died, he asked me to watch out for Thalia. So I have.” Nutall gave Thalia a smile, but it did not warm his grave expression.
Professor Evans turned back to Thalia. “So as far as you know, both your parents were Solitaires.”
“That’s right,” said Thalia.
Nutall cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly? What does that mean?” said Professor Evans.
To Thalia, Nutall said, “Your father told me about your mother. He said they met in Vienna in 1873.”
Thalia had heard that story from her father many times. “He was performing at the Vienna World’s Fair, yes.”
“They married and your father brought her with him when he returned to the States. Your father told me that your mother’s family had been most unhappy about her decision to marry and leave them behind.”
Thalia frowned. “I never knew that.”
“He also told me that both your mother’s parents were Traders.”
Thalia gazed at Nutall, thunderstruck. “Traders?”
Professor Evans said, “That means your mother was a Trader as well. That’s most interesting.”
“Mother was a Trader.” Said aloud, the words sounded quite normal. Which was absurd.
“That’s right.” Nutall smiled encouragingly. “I’m glad you’re taking this so calmly.”
“I am not calm.” Thalia stood up and paced across the cluttered room to the door and back. “My mother was a Trader.”
“Precisely so,” Professor Evans stated. “She was a Trader. It is not surprising that you believe you Traded.”
“Don’t be silly,” Nutall said. “She didn’t know about her mother until just now.”
“Really? I wonder.” Professor Evans rubbed his chin. “Children can be very perceptive. But let that go. Miss Cutler, your injury is very interesting, but I believe it to be consistent with pulling your hand through the locked cuff. In emergencies, we are sometimes spurred to do what cold reason tells us we cannot hope to