"Beep, beep, beep," someone suddenly sang out from above stairs, and I recognized the light tenor of Professor Lionel Barker, and I frowned. The nuclear physicist had been invited? I hunched a shoulder. He'd published a number of papers and was gaining quite a reputation in his field. I, personally, had no use for him. He'd Americanized his name. He was a ... foreigner.

I thought I also heard the sound of electric trains. I met Dante Higgins' eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Dr. Praetorius is in conference with Professor Barker," the young man said defiantly.

"Of course."

Within seconds there was what sounded like a massive collision, and then voices raised in rancor. "Professor Lionel Barker!"

"What a bloody mess!"

"This is your fault! Your signal was 'beep, beep!'"

"It was *not*! You, as dispatcher, are solely responsible! In a disaster of this magnitude, you have no recourse but to resign or blow your brains out!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!" A woman's voice, filled with chiding amusement.

"You're at fault too, Guinevere! *Your* signal was 'beep, beep, beep.' Get Dante! He needs to see the kind of destruction and mayhem his mother is capable of!"

Feminine laughter floated down the stairs, and Dante's face was suffused with happiness. I wanted to throw him to the floor and bury myself inside him. I quickly concealed my desire.

A pair of stunningly beautiful legs encased in sheer hose came into view. "Dante, Noah thinks I'm a menace to railroading!"

"Aren't you, Mother?" he teased fondly. He met my eyes, and his expression lost all animation. "We have a visitor."

"Oh!" The woman continued to descend at a languid rate, as if aware of the impact she had on her audience. She approached me, her hand held out. "Hello. I'm Guinevere Higgins." She appeared a little breathless.

"This is Professor Elwell, Mother."

The merriment in her face dimmed, and she dropped her hand. "How do you do, Professor? I think I'll see how dinner is progressing. Excuse me, please." Her pace was still slow as she left the room.

"Did you have a reason for coming here, Professor?" The young man had taken out a box of hard candies and was filling an ornate bowl. I had heard that Praetorius was trying to give up smoking, using the candy as a substitute for oral cravings.

"May I have a glass of water?"

Dante nodded reluctantly. "Help yourself."

I went to the table and picked up a glass that had to be Praetorius'; it was at the head of the table.

The glass was frosted, and when I took a cautious sip, I found the water was so chilled it hurt the back of my throat. I put the glass down and touched the tip of my tongue to a stray drop that clung to my upper lip. I had rather hoped that his eyes would be on my mouth, and I was disappointed to find they weren't.

"I have something to give Dr. Praetorius." I took out the fat envelope, and he looked concerned.

"What is it?" He stood there uncertainly, worrying his lush lower lip, and I found myself staring at his mouth.

I cleared my throat. "These are the list of charges the administration wishes Dr. Praetorius to disprove before a faculty committee."

"I'll take it." He extended his hand, but I held it out of his reach, and he moved closer.

"I prefer to give it to Dr. Praetorius, myself." I masked my glee behind dutiful earnestness. I had him within inches of my grasp, and I was about to touch him, when Shunderson entered the room.

"Your mother wished me to tell you that dinner is almost ready, Mr. Higgins." Shunderson's pale gaze was warm as he observed the young man. Then he turned it on me, and I struggled to prevent a shudder of distaste. He wasn't normal. How could Praetorius bear to have the man around him?

My distraction allowed Dante Higgins to snatch the envelope from my fingers, and he stepped back triumphantly, holding it behind his back. "Professor Elwell is just leaving, Mr. Shunderson. Would you show him the door?"

The Bat took my arm and began ushering me out. He wasn't smart enough to know about the nerve in the elbow, or the amount of pressure necessary to bring a man to his knees, but somehow, he was pressing on it, and I felt lightheaded, as if I were about to faint. I yanked my arm free.

"You'll see that Doctor Praetorius gets that envelope? It would be a shame if the contents were lost." I picked up my overcoat and draped it over my numb arm, barely catching it before it slid to the floor. It was a struggle to keep my emotions concealed, but I succeeded. "It is vital that he attend the open discussion that Dean Brockwell will be having."

"Vital, Professor Elwell? Isn't that a little melodramatic?"

"Only if he wishes to continue to practice medicine." It was my turn to be triumphant, but I was speaking to the closed door. I straightened my suit jacket and was about to walk away when I realized I'd left my hat behind. I paused, considering my options.

I could go back and get my hat now, while the house was filled with people.

Or... I dug a finger into my ear.

Dante was living with his very beautiful mother and his mother's... friend, who, if they weren't having an affair, would most likely want to be having one. I was certain a man of Praetorius' caliber would not have an affair with the mother while the son was under his roof. He was too... noble for that.

Dante appeared to love his mother and would no doubt do whatever was necessary to ensure her happiness, even if that meant moving out.

I would return another time, I decided, when I was sure Dante was alone.

There were ways to persuade impressionable young men that it would be only kind to those they cared about to alter their place of domicile.

As for Mrs. Higgins and Dr. Praetorius, well, they were an unmarried couple, living under the same roof. Rumors did have a way of cropping up and spreading. Tailored a bit to leave out the fact that Dante and Shunderson were also living under that roof...

I put my overcoat on and began strolling down the avenue.

Rumors were only nasty depending on your point of view.

****

I dressed with care. I hadn't been able to return to Noah Praetorius' home since I'd left the letter detailing the accusations I intended to lodge against the doctor, but that didn't matter. Once this night was over, Praetorius' reputation would be in tatters. The entire university would see him revealed for the fraud he was.

Youth was so easily disillusioned, I mused. I had no doubt that once Dante Higgins saw Praetorius in his true light, I'd have no problem at all getting the young man away from that household.

'Talking a body well,' indeed! I put a little dab of Brylcreem in my hair, humming under my breath, and washed my hands.

Carefully I knotted my tie. I slid my arms into the sleeves of my suit jacket and made sure it hung neatly, then took a spare handkerchief and polished the lenses of my glasses. A touch to my breast pocket assured me of the handkerchief that was nestled in it.

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror and went out into the other room, where I gathered up my overcoat and my briefcase.

I was the first to arrive at the conference room. I hung my coat on the back of a chair, unbuttoned my suit jacket, and took a seat at the center of the oval table. Two of my associates joined me shortly and sat to my left.

"You're looking well, Professor Elwell," the younger of the two murmured, a smirk twisting his lips. I acknowledged his statement with a prim smile. If it wasn't for young Higgins, I would have been tempted to become better acquainted with Professor Holmes.

"We're going to finally force these fools to see Noah Praetorius for what he really is," the other chimed in. I knew he'd had a run in with Praetorius himself over the treatment of a female student who had gotten herself pregnant. Dr. Flowers had been all for having her expelled on the grounds of moral turpitude, while Praetorius had taken the radical stance that if she were expelled, so, too, should be the young man who impregnated her.

"We must not be swayed by our personal inclinations, gentlemen. These men are our colleagues, and we must afford them a measure of courtesy."

"Of course, of course. Forgive me, Professor."

I nodded to him graciously.

Dean Brockwell entered the room. "Professor Elwell. Professor Holmes. Dr. Flowers. I do hope we can complete this informal hearing quickly. The student concert is being delayed, and I have no doubt you chose tonight to hold this... this witchhunt particularly for that reason."

"Dean Brockwell, I must protest!" I made a production of looking into my briefcase, hiding my smile. I remembered other occasions, during the time we were lovers, when Lyman had sounded just as huffy. 'You're taking too long, Rodney! Fuck me now!'

His eyes narrowed. "We've been friends a long time, Rodney; don't presume on that friendship!" I gave a start. It was as if he were reading my mind. "I will do what is best for this university!"

"Of course, Lyman." I concealed my irritation with him. I'd gotten very good at that over the years. I was the head of the department of anatomy, but he was the head of the university. Before I could say anything further, Dr. Stuart, a member of the board of trustees, came into the room, followed closely by Lionel Barker. They seated themselves on Dean Brockwell's left.

I was glancing impatiently at my wristwatch, wondering if Praetorius would even bother to show up, or if he had turned tail and run.

Just as I congratulated myself that the day was mine, that I was going to win, Noah walked in.

And somehow, I lost...

All my carefully garnered arguments, rebutted one by one.

The fact that he'd been a butcher in Goose Creek...

"An honorable trade."

But the townspeople were convinced he was a miracle worker.

"I made sick people well. I was available to anyone who wanted to see me."

He was a quack!

"I am not a quack! Despite what you persist in stating, Professor Elwell, a quack is an unqualified person who practices medicine. I was fully qualified. I simply chose not to display my diploma."

No matter how hard I pushed, Praetorius pushed back harder.

Holmes and Flowers edged their chairs further and further away, until finally I was alone in the center of the table, and I seized on the one ace in the hole that would bring down Praetorius' house of cards.

"What can you tell us of Shunderson?"

"*Mr.* Shunderson. He is my friend. He answers to me."

"He's a murderer!"

That got everyone's attention, and Holmes and Flowers began edging their chairs back toward me. I curled my lip at them.

"Dr. Praetorius, perhaps you would like to give a pertinent account of your relationship with Mr. Shunderson?" Lyman suggested.

"No."

"N--no?" Lyman stuttered. I couldn't remember ever seeing the dean so taken aback.

"It is not my story to tell, and it has no bearing on this trial."

"I assure you, Noah, this is not a trial!" Lyman could be such a toady at times.

Praetorius unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it in his mouth. His lips puckered, and for the briefest moment I regretted that we were enemies. "Sour apple," he murmured. His mouth tightened, and he demanded, "What would you call this trial, if not a trail?"

Before the dean could respond to that, there was a tap on the door. It opened, and Shunderson walked in.

Praetorius looked upset. "What are you doing here?"

"I was listening outside the door," he told Praetorius apologetically, and Noah's face softened. Out of sight under the table, my hand clenched into a fist.

Shunderson turned to the dean. "He will not tell you my story. May I?"

I felt my blood pressure rising. "I protest this... this no doubt prearranged eavesdropping!" I spat.

"Elwell, you are the most annoying pip-squeak I have ever known!" Barker snapped at me.

I bristled, but Dean Brockwell spoke over my protests. "Please, Mr. Shunderson." He glared at me. "Anything that will get this inquisition ended!" I recoiled in shock. Lyman had never used that tone of voice to me. Ever.

Shunderson went to stand near Praetorius. "Well, now..." He paused, consternation on his face. "Where should I begin?"

Praetorius smiled at the slow-witted dunce. "Begin at the beginning."

The Bat's smile was sickeningly sweet. He opened his mouth, paused, and turned to Praetorius. "The first time I was condemned to death?"

Praetorius nodded.

Shunderson glanced around the room, then settled on Lyman and began to tell his story. "The first time I was condemned to death was in 1917, for the murder of my best friend, in Canada."

I listened impatiently as Shunderson recounted the tiresome, and no doubt inflated, events of thirty-four years before.

"As it happened, I had a best friend and a sweetheart. One day my best friend suggested the three of us go mountain climbing together. My sweetheart couldn't climb very well and was afraid she would hold us back, so she said she would stay below at the chalet. My friend and I were about halfway up the mountain when we began to argue, as friends do, and he hit me with a rock. Me being bigger, I took the rock away from him and knocked him down. He jumped up and ran away. When I went back down to the chalet, my sweetheart started screaming and calling me a murderer because I was all covered in blood. It was my blood," he said parenthetically.

Praetorius murmured something encouraging. I couldn't hear it from where I sat. Not that I needed to be privy to a conversation between a fraud and an idiot.

The Bat smiled forlornly. "That was how I learned my best friend and my sweetheart were sweethearts."

"Betrayed by both your best friend and your sweetheart. Which caused the most pain?" Professor Barker wondered. Praetorius' expression was sad, an act I was sure, and he slid a piece of candy down the table to Barker.

"Please continue, Mr. Shunderson."

"Well," he took a few steps away from Praetorius and folded his hands at his waist, "I was tried for the murder of my friend and found guilty, but because the body was never found, my sentence was commuted from death by hanging to fifteen years at hard labor. At the end of that time, I was released."

"Was the body of your friend ever found?"

"Oh, yes, I found it myself." There were mumbles of consternation, but Shunderson went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "He was eating a bowl of soup in a Toronto restaurant. I believe it was pea soup."

As if that mattered. My lips tightened. "Must we continue to be subjected to this balderdash?"

"Be quiet, Rodney. I want to hear this! Please go on, Mr. Shunderson."

I glared at Lyman, but he ignored me, apparently fascinated by that fairy tale.

"I asked him, very nicely, why he never came forward to admit he was alive. His answer was unsatisfactory, and I hit him in the face with his soup. And then I picked up a chair, and hit him with that as well. Someone called the police, and when the policeman arrived, I took his club away from him and hit my friend with that also."

"Oh, my!"

"I was arrested. I tried to explain to the policeman that since I'd already served a sentence for killing my friend, this really didn't count. He said that wasn't any excuse, and that I was in serious trouble. I think I was in serious trouble because I'd used the policeman's club."

"Do you think if you'd killed him with the chair or the soup you wouldn't have been arrested?" Professor Barker seemed to feel that was a reasonable question.

"Don't encourage him, Barker!" I snarled at him. I thought for a moment he was going to stick his tongue out at me.

"But... that's a miscarriage of justice!" Lyman was horrified.

I couldn't see what all the fuss was about. The Bat was here, obviously alive. Either it had been declared a mistrial or he'd had a smart lawyer who got him off on double jeopardy.

"They commuted your sentence, then." He shook his head. "Granted you clemency? You escaped?"

"Oh, no. I was sentenced to be hanged, and I was. It was a rainy morning," he mused and walked back to Praetorius. "February the twenty-ninth. We had to wait for an official's glasses to be fetched. Once they were brought to him, he read a paper, the hangman put the noose around my neck, a priest said some prayers. I closed my eyes and thought of my... my mother, and the trapdoor dropped out from under me. That was the last I knew until I felt a finger covered in a rubber glove in my mouth. I bit down, and someone yelled, and that was how I met Dr. Praetorius."

"You must have been furious, Noah," Barker chuckled, and Praetorius slid him another candy, smiling.

"This is utter rubbish!" I snorted. "How much longer must we be subjected to this nonsense?"

"Rodney! *Be quiet*!" The dean scowled at me, and I subsided. "Mr. Shunderson?"

"I'll take it from here," Praetorius interjected, and he rose to his feet to stand beside the large, stupid man. "I had just finished medical school, and I was keeping company at the time with the hangman's... daughter, a sweet girl. Her father was very sympathetic to my desire to have a cadaver of my own. Since he knew that no one would claim Mr. Shunderson's body, because surely no one has ever been so alone as poor Mr. Shunderson..."

"Oh, *please*! Everyone is alone at some point or other!" I muttered under my breath. I was tempted to show him the world's smallest violin. That would have been too childish, so I simply gave a gentlemanly snort.

No one was paying any attention to my objections. Holmes and Flowers were once again at the far end of the table, and I sneered at them. They wouldn't be in my department for very much longer!

Meanwhile, Praetorius was still speaking. "The hangman sent me Mr. Shunderson's body immediately after the hanging, and I discovered he was still alive. He told me his story, and we placed some pig iron in the coffin and had it buried in a charity graveyard. He's been with me ever since." He put his arm around Shunderson's shoulders and met each set of eyes around the table, last of all, mine. "So if it seems that he's a little confused, or a little dull-witted, I overlook it because I have always known the reason for it."

There was silence. And then Dr. Stuart cleared his throat, and Lionel Barker pulled out a dishtowel of a handkerchief and blew his nose.

"Gentlemen..." Lyman was interrupted by another tap on the door, and this time Dante Higgins entered. He was looking tense and pale.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but the natives are getting restless." He forced a smile.

"Dante! You shouldn't be here." Praetorius crossed the room to join the younger man.

"Please, Dean Brockwell. Hasn't the concert been delayed long enough? After all, if you find against Noah, he may need to become a conductor to earn a living. You didn't find against him, did you?"

"No, young man."

Dante blew out a sigh of relief, and Praetorius smiled down at him. I caught my breath. How could I have missed that Praetorius was interested in *him*, not his mother?

Of course, I hastened to assure myself, I'd never seen the two of them together. It was understandable, and not my fault.

"Ah, Professor Elwell. You left your hat the last time you paid us a visit. I brought it along tonight in hopes I could return it. Here you are." Dante approached me, my hat extended toward me.

"Thank you," I gritted out. "You're too kind." I dropped it on the table.

His lips twitched in a grin, and he returned to Praetorius. A silent message seemed to pass between them, and the pair glanced expectantly at Dean Brockwell.

"Go along, Noah. The concert has been held up too long. I suggest we put this whole miserable experience behind us."

I watched as Praetorius and the young man left the room.

"Do you know what your problem is, Elwell?" I felt sure Barker would tell me. "You never had a cadaver of your own, much less one that bit your finger." He curled his lip and left the room. The other men hurried after him, my associates scurrying away like rats from a sinking ship.

"May I conclude that this is over, Rodney?" Lyman took a step toward me, then stopped, his expression sad.

I could feel my face heat with humiliation. I nodded stiffly. He hesitated a moment more, then turned away, and I was left alone in the room, or so I thought. I gathered up my papers.

"Professor Elwell." It was the hulking, stupid Shunderson. I started to cringe away from him, afraid to be alone in the same room with him. I forced myself to remain still. "You're a little man," he told me. "It's not that you're short. You're... little, in the mind and in the heart. Tonight, you tried to make a man little whose boots you couldn't touch if you stood on tiptoe on top of the highest mountain in the world. And as it turned out... you're even littler than you were before." And then he was gone, and I was alone in that room.

I continued to stuff my notes into my briefcase. My hat lay on the table, and I glowered at it before shoving it into the briefcase as well. I snapped the clasp shut, put on my overcoat, and stalked out of the room, leaving the light for someone else to turn off.

My path home would take me past the building where the concert was being held; there was no way to avoid it. The triumphant strains of Gaudeamus, Igitur rang through the brisk night air. I paused and put my hand on the door to enter, then stopped. There was nothing in there for me. Not esteem, not respect, not...

I raised the collar of my overcoat, hoping it would keep the wind out, turned away from the door, and left the campus.

~End~