*
Jason Madly hadmuch the same thought as he made his way up a creaking wooden staircase into the attic of a tall, dank building.
The attic door wasn’t locked. It didn’t need to be, for there were lookouts at the front and back of the building to warn of any approaching peelers. Anyone else who called was a prospective customer of someone in the building, if not the forger in the attic.
Madly stuck his head in and looked around. A balding, stoop-shouldered man in spectacles surrounded by paper, ink, and stamps sat at a large desk by the window. The room was remarkably bright after the gloomy stairwell, for the sun shone through a skylight as well as the window.
“Kenny not here?” Madly said in surprised tones. “He said he’d be here.”
“Then he probably will be. Come in and tell me what you need.”
“Can’t tell you that till I’ve spoken to Kenny and seen what you can do.”
“I am a professional,” the forger said coldly.
“Of course you are. I’ll wait for him.”
It was not a large space in which to wait, and there was only one other chair, which Madly promptly sat in, letting his gaze linger on the forger’s face and then travel slowly across the documents on his desk. There was little hope of privacy.
The forger put his pen carefully in the stand and glared at his visitor. “Really, sir, this is not a waiting room.”
“If Kenny was here, I wouldn’t have to wait, would I? Are his papers ready?”
The forger didn’t answer.
Madly got up and set about being annoying. He stood under the skylight, gazing upward. He clomped about the room, whistling, and stood at the window, blocking the light. The forger tutted.
“When do you expect him?” Madly demanded.
The forger sighed. “When he gets here.”
“With your money, I hope. What do you charge?”
“I’ll tell you that when you tell me what you want.”
“Damn Kenny’s eyes! Where is the scoundrel?”
“Not here. It would please me if you could imitate him. Good day, sir!”
“He said he’d be here,” Madly said firmly, and sat back down. He resumed whistling in a particularly tuneless manner. He struck his hat against the corner of the desk, causing papers to rustle and jump. “How long have you been in this business, then?” he asked. “Ever been caught?”
The forger set down his pen again. “Willyou go away? Come back in an hour.”
“An hour?” Madly said doubtfully.
“An hour.”
Madly sighed. “Very well.”
He left and clattered back down the attic stairs. But he paused at the foot and sat on the last step.
In the end, he only had to wait half an hour and scare off one other prospective customer before Kenny’s heavy footsteps drifted upward and his large shape squeezed along the narrow passage toward him.
“Kenny,” Madly said lovingly, rising to his feet. “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
Kenny had stopped dead at his first word, peering suspiciously into the gloom. “Madly?” he said in disbelief. “What d’you want me for?”
“Got a proposition for you.”
