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’
Yeah
,
them
,
and
the
princesses
were
beautiful
as
the
day
is
long
and
so
noble
they
,
they
could
pee
through
a
dozen
mattresses
—
’
’
What
?
’
Albert
hesitated
.
’
Something
like
that
,
anyway
,
’
he
conceded
.
’
And
there
was
balls
and
tournaments
and
executions
.
Great
days
.
’
He
smiled
dreamily
at
his
memories
.
’
Not
like
the
sort
of
days
you
get
now
,
’
he
said
,
emerging
from
his
reverie
with
bad
grace
.
’
Have
you
got
any
other
names
,
Albert
?
’
said
Mort
.
But
the
brief
spell
had
been
broken
and
the
old
man
wasn
’
t
going
to
be
drawn
.
’
Oh
,
I
know
,
’
he
snapped
,
’
get
Albert
’
s
name
and
you
’
ll
go
and
look
him
up
in
the
library
,
won
’
t
you
?
Prying
and
poking
.
I
know
you
,
skulking
in
there
at
all
hours
reading
the
lives
of
young
wimmen
—
’
The
heralds
of
guilt
must
have
flourished
their
tarnished
trumpets
in
the
depths
of
Mort
’
s
eyes
,
because
Albert
cackled
and
prodded
him
with
a
bony
finger
.
’
You
might
at
least
put
them
back
where
you
find
’
em
,
’
he
said
,
’
not
leave
piles
of
’
em
around
for
old
Albert
to
put
back
.
Anyway
,
it
’
s
not
right
,
ogling
the
poor
dead
things
.
It
probably
turns
you
blind
.
’
’
But
I
only
—
’
Mort
began
,
and
remembered
the
damp
lace
handkerchief
in
his
pocket
,
and
shut
up
.
He
left
Albert
grumbling
to
himself
and
doing
the
washing
up
,
and
slipped
into
the
library
.
Pale
sunlight
lanced
down
from
the
high
windows
,
gently
fading
the
covers
on
the
patient
,
ancient
volumes
.
Occasionally
a
speck
of
dust
would
catch
the
light
as
it
floated
through
the
golden
shafts
,
and
flare
like
a
miniature
supernova
.
