At last he said quietly, “It’s just a matter of days until he is back in shape, then?”
“So Dr. Capek says.”
“Don’t let him go to work until he is fully recovered. He’s a valuable man. You know that, don’t you? Worth six of you and me. So you carry on with the doubling job and let him get well. The Empire needs him.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Knock off that ‘Sire.’ Since you are standing in for him, call me ‘Willem,’ as he does. Did you know that was how I spotted you?”
“No, Si-no, Willem.”
“He’s called me Willem for twenty years. I thought it decidedly odd that he would quit it in private simply because he was seeing me on state business. But I did not suspect, not really. But, remarkable as your performance was, it set me thinking. Then when we went in to see the trains, I knew.”
“Excuse me? How?”
“You were polite, man! I’ve made him look at my trains in the past-and he always got even by being as rude as possible about what a way for a grown man to waste time. It was a little act we always went through. We both enjoyed it.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
“How could you have known?” I was thinking that I should have known, that damned Farleyfile should have told me . . . It was not until later that I realized that the file had not been defective, in view of the theory on which it was based, i.e. it was intended to let a famous man remember details about the less famous. But that was precisely what the Emperor was not-less famous, I mean. Of course Bonforte needed no notes to recall personal details about Willem! Nor would he consider it proper to set down personal matters about the sovereign in a file handled by his clerks.
I had muffed the obvious-not that I see how I could have avoided it, even ii I had realized that the file would be incomplete.
But the Emperor was still talking. “You did a magnificent job- and after risking your life in a Martian nest I am not surprised that you were willing to tackle me. Tell me, have I ever seen you in stereo, or anywhere?”
I had given my legal name, of course, when the Emperor demanded it; I now rather timidly gave my professional name. He looked at me, threw up his hands, and guff awed. I was somewhat hurt. “Er, have you heard of me?”
“Heard of you? I’m one of your staunchest fans.” He looked at me very closely. “But you still look like Joe Bonforte. I can’t believe that you are Lorenzo.”
“But I am.”
“Oh, I believe it, I believe it. You know that skit where you are a tramp? First you try to milk a cow-no luck. Finally you end up eating out of the cat’s dish-but even the cat pushes you away?”
I admitted it.
“I’ve almost worn out my spool of that. I laugh and cry at the same time.”
“That is the idea.” I hesitated, then admitted that the barnyard “Weary Willie” routine had been copied from a very great artist of another century. “But I prefer dramatic roles.”
“Like this one?”
“Well-not exactly. For this role, once is quite enough. I wouldn’t care for a long run.”
“I suppose so. Well, tell Roger Clifton- No, don’t tell Clifton anything. Lorenzo, I see nothing to be gained by ever telling anyone about our conversation this past hour. If you tell Clifton, even though you tell him that I said not to worry, it would just give him nerves. And he has work to do. So we keep it tight, eh?”
“As my emperor wishes.”
“None of that, please. We’ll keep it quiet because it’s best so. Sorry I can’t make a sickbed visit on Uncle Joe. Not that I could help him-although they used to think the King’s Touch did marvels. So we’ll say nothing and pretend that I never twigged.”
“Yes-Wilem.”
“I suppose you had better go now. I’ve kept you a very long time.”
“Whatever you wish.”
“I’ll have Pateel go back with you-or do you know your way around? But just a moment-” He dug around in his desk, muttering to himself. “That girl must have been straightening things again. No-here it is.” He hauled out a little book. “I probably won’t get to see you again-so would you mind giving me your autograph before you go?”