“You are a more intelligent man than you appear.”
“I’ll take that for a compliment. Now tell me — what was this ridiculous charade all about?”
“How much do you know already?”
“The first bullet you fired lodged in the back wall of the bedroom. It did not come anywhere near Mignonette. The blood that leaked from under her body was bull’s blood, released from a small leather bladder she left behind her. After the police departed, she unobtrusively slipped out the bedroom window. Doubtless she is a great distance away by now I know all that occurred. What I do not understand is why.”
“Very well. Monsieur was a vile old man. He did not deserve a beautiful creature like Mignonette.”
“On this we are as one. Go on.”
“But, as he had her made, he owned her. And as she was his property, he was free to do with her as he liked.” Then, when Darger’s face darkened, “You misapprehend me, sir! I do not speak of sexual or sadomasochistic practices but of chattel slavery. Monsieur was, as I am sure you have noted for yourself, a possessive man. He had left instructions that upon his death, his house was to be set afire, with Mignonette within it.”
“Surely, this would not be legal!”
“Read the law,” the gun said. “Mignonette determined to find her way free. She won me over to her cause, and together we hatched the plan you have seen played to fruition.”
“Tell me one thing,” Surplus said curiously. “You were programmed not to shoot your master. How then did you manage…?”
“I am many centuries old. Time enough to hack any amount of code.”
“Ah,” said Surplus, in a voice that indicated he was unwilling to admit unfamiliarity with the gun’s terminologies.
“But why me?” Darger slammed a hand down on the stone rail. “Why did Madame d’Etranger act out her cruel drama with my assistance, rather than…than…with someone else’s?”
“Because she is a cold-hearted bitch. Also, she found you attractive. For a whore such as she, that is justification enough for anything.”
Darger flushed with anger. “How dare you speak so of a lady?”
“She abandoned me,” the gun said bitterly. “I loved her, and she abandoned me. How else should I speak of her under such circumstances?”
“Under such circumstances, a gentleman would not speak of her at all,” Surplus said mildly. “Nevertheless, you have, as required, explained everything. So we shall honor our implicit promise by leaving you here to be found by the next passer-by. A valuable weapon such as yourself will surely find another patron with ease. A good life to you, sir.”
“Wait!”
Surplus quirked an eyebrow. “What is it?” Darger asked.
“Take me with you,” the gun pleaded. “Do not leave me here to be picked up by some cutpurse or bourgeois lout. I am neither a criminal nor meant for a sedentary life. I am an adventurer, like yourselves! I can be of enormous aid to you, and an invaluable prop for your illicit schemes.”
Darger saw how Surplus’s ears perked up at this. Quickly, and in his coldest possible manner, he said, “We are not of the same social class, sir.”
Taking his friend’s arm, he turned away.
Below, at the landing-stage, their barge awaited, hung with loops of fairy-lights. They descended and boarded. The hawsers were cast off, the engine fed an extra handful of sugar to wake it to life, and they motored silently down-river, while behind them the pistol’s frantic cries faded slowly in the warm Parisian night. It was not long before the City of Light was a luminous blur on the horizon, like the face of one’s beloved seen through tears.
