'Tell him we'll pay double his normal rate,' Valenunsaid.

'You hear that, Mel? Twice your usual fee. So get overhere, will you?' He gave the address to his brother-in-law, and put down the receiver. 'He's coming over,' heannounced.

'Now?' said Harry.

'Now,' Byron glanced at his watch. 'My belly thinksmy throat's cut. How about we eat? You got an all nightplace near here?'

'There's one a block down from here.'

'You want food?' Byron asked Valentin.

'I don't think so,' he said. He was looking worse bythe moment.

'OK,' Byron said to Harry, 'just you and me then. Yougot ten I could borrow?'

Harry gave him a bill, the keys to the street doorand an order for doughnuts and coffee, and Byronwent on his way. Only when he'd gone did Harrywish he'd convinced the poet to stave off his hungerpangs a while. The office was distressingly quietwithout him: Swann in residence behind the desk,Valentin succumbing to sleep in the other chair. Thehush brought to mind another such silence, duringthat last, awesome night at the Lomax house whenMimi's demon-lover, wounded by Father Hesse, hadslipped away into the walls for a while, and left themwaiting and waiting, knowing it would come back butnot certain of when or how. Six hours they'd sat -Mimi occasionally breaking the silence with laughteror gibberish - and the first Harry had known of itsreturn was the smell of cooking excrement, and Mimi'scry of 'Sodomite!' as Hesse surrendered to an act hisfaith had too long forbidden him. There had been nomore silence then, not for a long space: only Hesse'scries, and Harry's pleas for forgetfulness. They had allgone unanswered.

It seemed he could hear the demon's voice now; itsdemands, its invitations. But no; it was only Valentin.The man was tossing his head back and forth in sleep,his face knotted up. Suddenly he started from his chair,one word on his lips:

'Swannl'

His eyes opened, and as they alighted on theillusionist's body, which was propped in the chairopposite, tears came uncontrollably, wracking him.

'He's dead,' he said, as though in his dream he hadforgotten that bitter fact. 'I failed him, D'Amour. That'swhy he's dead. Because of my negligence.'

'You're doing your best for him now,' Harry said,though he knew the words were poor compensation.'Nobody could ask for a better friend.'

'I was never his friend,' Valentin said, staring at thecorpse with brimming eyes. 'I always hoped he'd one daytrust me entirely. But he never did.'

'Why not?'

'He couldn't afford to trust anybody. Not in hissituation.' He wiped his cheeks with the back of hishand.

'Maybe,' Harry said, 'it's about time you told me whatall this is about.'

'If you want to hear.'

'I want to hear.'

'Very well,' said Valentin. 'Thirty-two years ago,Swann made a bargain with the Gulfs. He agreed tobe an ambassador for them if they, in return, gave himmagic.'

'Magicr

'The ability to perform miracles. To transform matter.To bewitch souls. Even to drive out God.'

'That's a miracle?'

'It's more difficult than you think,' Valentin replied.

'So Swann was a genuine magician?'

'Indeed he was.'

'Then why didn't he use his powers?'

'He did,' Valentin replied. 'He used them every night,at every performance.'

Harry was baffled. 'I don't follow.'

'Nothing the Prince of Lies offers to humankindis of the least value,' Valentin said, 'or it wouldn'tbe offered. Swann didn't know that when he firstmade his Covenant. But he soon learned. Miraclesare useless. Magic is a distraction from the real concerns.It's rhetoric. Melodrama.'

'So what exactly are the real concerns?'

'You should know better than I,' Valentin replied.'Fellowship, maybe? Curiosity? Certainly it matters notin the least if water can be made into wine, or Lazarus tolive another year.'

Harry saw the wisdom of this, but not how it hadbrought the magician to Broadway. As it was, he didn'tneed to ask. Valentin had taken up the story afresh.His tears had cleared with the telling; some trace ofanimation had crept back into his features.

'It didn't take Swann long to realise he'd sold his soulfor a mess of pottage,' he explained. 'And when he didhe was inconsolable. At least he was for a while. Then hebegan to contrive a revenge.'

'How?'

'By taking Hell's name in vain. By using the magicwhich it boasted of as a trivial entertainment, degradingthe power of the Gulfs by passing off their wonder-working as mere illusion. It was, you see, an act of heroicperversity. Every time a trick of Swann's was explainedaway as sleight-of-hand, the Gulfs squirmed.'

'Why didn't they kill him?' Harry said.

'Oh, they tried. Many times. But he had allies. Agentsin their camp who warned him of their plots against him.He escaped their retribution for years that way.'

'Until now?'

'Until now,' Valentin sighed. 'He was careless, andso was I. Now he's dead, and the Gulfs are itching forhim.'

'I see.'

'But we were not entirely unprepared for this eventuality. He had made his apologies to Heaven; and I dareto hope he's been forgiven his trespasses. Pray that hehas. There's more than his salvation at stake tonight.'

'Yours too?'

'All of us who loved him are tainted,' Valentin replied,'but if we can destroy his physical remains before theGulfs claim them we may yet avoid the consequences ofhis Covenant.'

'Why did you wait so long? Why didn't you justcremate him die day he died?'

Their lawyers are not fools. The Covenant specificallyproscribes a period of lying-in-state. If we had attemptedto ignore that clause his soul would have been forfeitedautomatically.'

'So when is this period up?'

'Three hours ago, at midnight,' Valentin replied.'That's why they're so desperate, you see. And sodangerous.'

Another poem came to Byron Jowitt as he ambled backup 8th. Avenue, working his way through a tuna saladsandwich. His Muse was not to be rushed. Poems couldtake as long as five minutes to be finalised; longer if theyinvolved a double rhyme. He didn't hurry on his journeyback to the offices therefore, but wandered in a dreamysort of mood, turning the lines every which way to makethem fit. That way he hoped to arrive back with anotherfinished poem. Two in one night was damn good going.

He had not perfected the final couplet however, bythe time he reached the door. Operating on automaticpilot he fumbled in his pocket for the keys D'Amourhad loaned him, and let himself in. He was about toclose the door again when a woman stepped through thegap, smiling at him. She was a beauty, and Byron, beinga poet, was a fool for beauty.

'Please,' she said to him, 'I need your help.'

'What can I do for you?' said Byron through amouthful of food.

'Do you know a man by the name of D'Amour? HarryD'Amour?'

'Indeed I do. I'm going up to his place right now.'

'Perhaps you could show me the way?' the womanasked him, as Byron closed the door.

'Be my pleasure,' he replied, and led her across thelobby to the bottom of the stairs.

'You know, you're very sweet,' she told him; andByron melted.

Valentin stood at the window.

'Something wrong?' Harry asked.

'Just a feeling,' Valentin commented. 'I have asuspicion maybe the Devil's in Manhattan.'

'So what's new?'

'That maybe he's coming for us.' As if on cue therewas a knock at the door. Harry jumped. 'It's all right,'Valentin said, 'he never knocks.'

Harry went to the door, feeling like a fool.

'Is that you, Byron?' he asked before unlocking it.

'Please,' said a voice he thought he'd never hear again.'Helpme...'

He opened the door. It was Dorothea, of course. Shewas colourless as water, and as unpredictable. Evenbefore Harry had invited her across the office thresholda dozen expressions, or hints of such, had crossed herface: anguish, suspicion, terror. And now, as her eyesalighted upon the body of her beloved Swann, relief andgratitude.