the twins, part 2

story by horace p sternwall

art by konrad kraus and danny delacroix

part two of two

to read part one, click here

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hiram the hired man and addison spent a day looking for steele, and the next morning cleopatra went into town and called mr scratchwood in memphis. mr scratchwood contacted the nearest sheriff’s office, and late in the afternoon sheriff fuster brown showed up at the big house. “well, where might he have gone, do you reckon?” the sheriff asked addison. “probably to see old peter,” addison answered. “he has probably cast his lot with old peter.” “and who might old peter be when he’s at home, and where might his home be?” “he lives in the swamp, and he is a python.” “a python, eh? friendly, is he?” “my brother and i have always found him a perfect gentleman.” “i see.” sheriff fuster looked out over the swamp. he was not at all sure if the swamp was in his jurisdiction, or in anybody’s jurisdiction. “i guess i will take a little look around.” after taking a little look around, the sheriff told cleopatra and addison to call him if anything turned up, got back in his model a ford and went back to town and was not seen again. three days later, addison was back in mr scratchwood’s office in memphis. he got right to the point in his uncivilized manner. “i reckon i get all the money now, eh?” mr scratchwood put his fingertips together again. “well, no, not exactly. at least not any time soon.” “but steele is gone!” “‘gone’ is not a legal term. the money, such as it is is, is still his, until he can be presumed dead.” “all right, presume him dead then. if he wants to live in the swamp with old peter and the other critters, i am sure he won’t care.” mr scratchwood sighed. “we can not say with certainty where he is. as for presuming him dead, that can only be done after twenty years.” “twenty years!” “yes, twenty years, not a day less. again, i would advise you to seek honest employment.” “can you sell the house?” addison asked. “if i am to stay here in memphis, or in st louis or chicago, perhaps some money could be raised that way.” “whom would i sell it to? your friend the python?” “it must be worth something,” addison protested. “it is not worth a dime. i would have to pay to tear it down. i might get you a few dollars for the books. ” * the twenty years went by. addison moved to st louis, then chicago, then new york. he found employment as a bus boy, then as a waiter in restaurants after he learned some manners, and even later as a mail clerk in a couple of publishing houses where he bored and occasionally intrigued his fellow employees with his curiously dated literary references. he learned about the modern civilized world to some extent from his own experiences and from books, but mostly from the movies. he became an avid moviegoer, always sitting in the back row if he could, and never squandering his money on the refreshments hawked at intermissions. but he never learned to think of movies as entities separate from each other, like books, but as a single endlessly flowing “the movies”, through which familiar figures like claude rains and gary cooper and joan crawford and george sanders appeared and reappeared. through it all he continued to get his small allowance from scratchwood, jackson, and dubois, and he looked forward to the day when it would be doubled - and on which, as steele’s next of kin, he would inherit all of steele’s accrued allowance - with interest! he told himself he might even be able to live “like a gentleman”! and eat and drink in better places than bob’s bowery bar! at last the twenty years were up. addison treated himself to a train trip, rather than a bus trip, to memphis. when he got to the lawyer’s office, he found a familiar figure seated in the waiting room. “hello, addison.” hello, steele.” the end next story