Free The Troupe by Robert Jackson Bennett

you?”
    George tried, but Silenus’s hold was so strong and painful he couldn’t help but attempt to pull away. As the man examined him George got the queer feeling of being looked
through
, like Silenuscould see all of his lies and memories in the recesses of his mind, or perhaps feel the shape of them through the skin on his neck.
    “Now, George, tell me the truth,” said Silenus. His voice was very low and soft. “Did those men in gray send you to gut any of my company? Or me?”
    George coughed and shook his head.
    “You here to sabotage us? To spy on us?”
    He shook his head again.
    “You’re not coming at us in any way at all?”
    Again, he shook his head.
    “Why are you awake, George? Why aren’t you sleepwalking like the others?”
    “D-don’t… don’t know…”
    Silenus examined him for a moment longer. He grunted to himself and removed his hand. George gasped and rubbed at his neck while Silenus watched, his face unreadable. “Ain’t this interesting,” he said. “Just when I wanted it least.” He nodded to the strongwoman. “Let him go.”
    She released him. She stroked his back as she did so. “Sorry,” she whispered in his ear.
    “Well, now,” said Silenus. “Unfortunately it seems this kid is telling the truth, or he thinks he is. Which ain’t comforting.” He sighed and stuck his head out the loading door to survey the crowd. “We don’t have much longer on these yucks. Here, I tell you what—Stanley, you take Colette and Franny and our props to the train station. Professor Tyburn and I will go to the hotel with this kid and see if he’s a nut or if he just happens to be right. We’ll find you at the train station, either way.”
    The cellist, presumably Stanley, frowned at that, and reached into his bags. He produced a largish blackboard with a piece of chalk hanging from it by a string, and took the chalk and quickly wrote in a smooth, clean hand: SAFE ?
    “I can handle myself,” said Silenus. “Kingsley, you got your cannon?”
    “I do,” said the professor. He patted his side.
    “Well, keep it handy,” said Silenus. “Keep it trained on this kid, especially if he starts getting jumpy. I don’t know what we’ll see there—I can’t imagine how they could’ve caught up to us at the hotel—but something fishy’s going on and I don’t like the taste of it.” He looked at George and said, “You don’t mind coming with us on a trip, do you George?”
    George angrily looked back. He’d never expected their first meeting to go like this, but still he shook his head.
    Silenus smiled. There was no humor in it. “Good,” he said. “But before we do, run and fetch me my hat, will you? It landed somewhere in the back.”
    George was irritated to be ordered about in such a fashion, but he walked to the farthest corners of the backstage to search. Once he was away the troupe began talking quietly.
    He found the top hat behind the curtain rigging, and when he picked it up he noticed it was peculiarly heavy. He looked inside and saw that the lining was stuffed with many strange things: a thin, sheathed knife, several small lenses, and half a pack of playing cards with notes scribbled on them.
    He looked up at Silenus and wondered exactly what this man was. Silenus was not paying attention to him, but George saw that someone else was watching: Colette, the girl in white and diamonds. Something in his chest flared hot, and he managed a wave and a feeble smile. She did not return them, but frowned mistrustfully and turned back to Silenus.
    George returned with the hat. “Ah,” said Silenus, and he snatched it from him, flipped it smoothly, and fixed it atop his head. “Very good. Then let’s get going.”
    Silenus, George, and Professor Tyburn left the others outside the theater and climbed aboard a streetcar. Silenus’s hand never leftGeorge’s back, even when they took their seats. If they didn’t know better, someone would have thought the two of them dear