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circumstance. He had known this man existed, after all, that he was somewhere in the city. It was strange to finally see his face, although certainly this ravaged caricature was a poor impression of the original. He felt a peculiar satisfaction, even now, in being able to clarify and catalog what had for so long been obscure. He did notfeel anything that approached sadness. He was puzzled, horrified, relieved, and tired. His only certainty was that they would die, and that his own life was in a precarious flux.
    The best he could do was to give Joseph a cup of bitters. He offered to help the man off with his jacket. He gently wrapped his wife’s lover in a quilt. The man would not meet his eyes.
    When the doctor arrived, Guillaudeu simply said:
Now there are two
. The exhausted physician required no further explanation.
    For another full night and day Guillaudeu tended to them as best he could, propping Joseph up as he had done with Celia. He wiped away sputum and vomit and emptied their pots. While the invalids slept, he crept into the room and watched them lying side by side like a monstrous pair of stillborn twins whose gray skin met with the light only to illuminate death. Each time he left the room he was drawn back almost immediately by the force of his curiosity: How many glimpses of the world were left to them, how many breaths? Halfway through the second night she died. Guillaudeu moved her carefully to her bedroom and then tended to her lover for eleven more hours. When Joseph, too, finally shuddered out of the world, Guillaudeu rushed from the apartment down two flights of stairs and burst into a cold, bright morning. He felt as if
he
were the ghost, emerging from one life and hovering at the threshold of the next.

Four
    To Guillaudeu’s dismay Mr. Archer had made himself quite comfortable in the office, even commandeering Guillaudeu’s leather reading chair. As far as he could see, Mr. Archer spent most of the day reading newspapers. This did not particularly bother Guillaudeu, but Mr. Archer tended to exclaim over the day’s news rather loudly, and rather often. Worse, he did not care for clearing the papers away once he finished with them. Mr. Archer had been in the office just four days, but for Guillaudeu, who was accustomed to entire weeks of comfortable silence, this was far too long.
    “They say Barnum’s back in New York,” Guillaudeu said. He was arranging the short-eared owl in its final position, sponging soda water carefully onto its plumage to eradicate any residual bloodstains. “He’s gathering some of the staff for lunch today in the Aerial Garden. He may be able to clear up the matter of your office.”
    “That’s strange. I heard he was still abroad.”
    “Abroad? I thought he had been traveling down the eastern seaboard,” said Guillaudeu. How could Archer know things that he did not?
    Mr. Archer abruptly turned toward him. “Would you show me around the museum?”
    “Show you around,” Guillaudeu echoed. “Why?”
    “If Barnum is indeed back from his travels, and I am to speak to him with any intelligence, I should be familiar with his work.”
    “It’s not really his work. He’s only just arrived here. And haven’t you walked around at all?”
    “I couldn’t be bothered.” Mr. Archer dismissed the idea with his hand. “It’s too tedious. I would rather have your explanations of the exhibits as accompaniment. That would make all those trips up and down the stairs worthwhile.”
    “I can give you half an hour,” said Guillaudeu. “No more than that.”
    “Excellent,” Mr. Archer replied, rising from his seat.
    The taxidermist looked over at
Ornithorhyncus anatinus
, where it sat next to the open pages of Cuvier. He had wanted to spend the rest of the morning scrutinizing the specimen and the afternoon mixing resin, linseed oil, and ink into the putty that would form the short-eared owl’s new eye sockets. But more and more often, the museum required that he serve