"Reuben, please!" said Simon, raising his voice.
"You have a flair for the poetic," murmured Arthur Hammermill, rolling his eyes. "Your father would be justly proud."
Simon Oliver visibly bristled.
The man,s smile was easy and again almost doting. He pressed his lips together and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
"I,m enthralled," said Reuben. "I,ve been overwhelmed. I,m glad to see you,re more sanguine on the matter, because your friend was pessimistic, grim."
"Well, we can forget about him now, can,t we?" the man whispered. He appeared to be marveling in his own way.
"I imagined Felix Nideck to be a fount of knowledge, maybe secret knowledge," Reuben said. "You know, someone who would know the answers to so many questions, what my father calls cosmic questions, someone who could shed some light into the darkest corners of this life."
Simon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and so did Arthur Hammermill, as if they were signaling one another. Reuben ignored them.
The man was simply staring at him with those large compassionate eyes.
"It must be marvelous for you," said Reuben, "to read that secret writing. Just last night, I found ledgers filled with that secret writing, very old. Very old indeed."
"Did you?" asked the man gently.
"Yes, they go way back. Years back. Years before Felix Nideck can have been alive. Your ancestors must have known the secret writing. Unless of course Felix had some great secret of longevity that no one knows. One could almost believe it in that house. That house is a labyrinth. Did you know, it has secret stairways, actually, and a large secret room?"
The lawyers were both clearing their throats at the same time.
The man,s face registered only quiet understanding.
"Seems there were scientists once working in that house, doctors perhaps. It,s impossible to know now of course unless one can read that secret writing. Marchent tried long ago to have it decoded - ."
"Did she?"
"But no one could crack it. You,re in possession of a rather valuable skill."
Simon again tried to interrupt. Reuben rode over him.
"The house prompts me to imagine things," said Reuben, "that Felix Nideck is still somehow alive, that he,s going to come and somehow explain things which on my own I can,t grasp, may never grasp."
"Reuben, please, if you will, I think perhaps - ," said Simon who actually started to rise to his feet.
"Sit down, Simon," said Reuben.
"It never entered my mind that you knew so much of Felix Nideck," said the man gently. "I didn,t realize that you knew anything of him at all."
"Oh, I know many little things about him," said Reuben. "He was a lover of Hawthorne, Keats, those old European gothic stories, and he even loved theology. He was a lover of Teilhard de Chardin. I found a little book in the house, Teilhard,s How I Believe. I should have brought it to you. I forgot to bring it. I,ve been treating it rather like a sacred relic. It was inscribed to Felix by one of his good friends."
The man,s face underwent another subtle shift, but the openness, the generosity, remained. "Teilhard," he said. "Such a brilliant and original thinker." He dropped his voice just a little. " ,Our doubts, like our misfortunes, are the price we have to pay for the fulfillment of the universe...., "
Reuben nodded. He couldn,t suppress a smile.
" ,Evil is inevitable,, " Reuben quoted, " ,in the course of a creation which develops within time., "
The man was speechless. Then very softly, with a radiant smile, he said, "Amen."
Arthur Hammermill was staring at Reuben as if Reuben had lost his mind. Reuben went on:
"Marchent painted such a vivid portrait of Felix," he said. "Everybody who knew him enriches it, deepens it. He,s part of the house. It,s impossible to live there and not know Felix Nideck."
"I see," said the man in the softest voice.
The lawyers were about to attempt another intervention. Reuben raised his voice slightly.
"Why did he vanish like that?" Reuben asked. "What became of him? Why would he leave Marchent and his family the way he did?"
Arthur Hammermill immediately interrupted. "Well, all of this has been investigated," he interjected, "and actually Felix here does not have anything to add that would help us with this - ."
"Of course not," said Reuben under his breath. "I was asking him to speculate, Mr. Hammermill. I just thought he might have some sterling idea."
"I don,t mind discussing it," said the man. He reached over to his left and patted the back of Arthur,s hand.
He looked at Reuben.
"We can,t know the whole truth of it," he said. "I suspect Felix Nideck was betrayed."
" ,Betrayed,?" Reuben asked. His mind shot at once to that enigmatic inscription in the Teilhard book: We have survived this; we can survive anything. A jumble of fragmentary memories came back to him. " ,Betrayed,, " he said.
"He would never have abandoned Marchent," said the man. "He didn,t trust his nephew and his nephew,s wife to raise their children. It wasn,t his intention to drop out of their lives as he did."
Bits and snatches of conversation were coming back. Abel Nideck had not gotten along with his uncle; something about money. What was it? Abel Nideck had come into some money, right after Felix went away.
In a low rumbling voice Arthur began whispering in the man,s ear, cautioning that these were all serious questions and such, and should be discussed in another place and at another time.
The man nodded absently and dismissively. He looked again at Reuben.
"It was undoubtedly bitter for Marchent; it must have cast a shadow over her life."
"Oh, without question, it did," said Reuben. He was powerfully excited. His heart pounded like a drum, setting the pace of the conversation. "She suspected something bad had happened, not only to him but to his friends, all of his close friends."
Simon tried to interrupt.
"Sometimes it,s better not to know the whole story," the man said. "Sometimes, people should be spared the whole truth."
"You think so?" said Reuben. "Maybe you,re right. Maybe in Marchent,s case, and in the case of Felix. How can I know? But right now, I,m a guy who is craving the truth, craving answers, craving some understanding of things, an insight, any insight, a clue - ."
"These are family matters!" said Arthur Hammermill in a deep, crushing voice. "Matters in which you have no right - ."