The door started to close.
Tumnus didn't know what gave him the gall to do what he did next. He pushed against the door—hard— before the lock clicked into place, and let himself in. Mr. Beaver stared up at him, livid underneath his fur. "Get—out—of—my—dam!"
Tumnus closed the door with a soft click. "I'll go, but not yet. I need to talk to you. You must listen."
"Must? I must do no such thing. Get out of my house."
This would get him nowhere. Better to get to the point. "I'm to be arrested."
Mr. Beaver blinked, then waved his paw dismissively. "Not my concern. I don't know what you've done to earn the Witch's wrath, and I don't really care, but I'm sure you deserve what's..." He looked away in spite of himself. "...what's coming to you."
"I know that you and I haven't always seen eye to eye on things." Tumnus began. "And I admit my neutral views may have been misplaced..."
"Neutral!" Mr. Beaver hollered, shocking Tumnus, who had never heard the Beast raise his voice before.
Evidently, Mrs. Beaver had never heard it either. Her mouth fell open as she stared at her husband. He sighed. "Why don't you put on some tea, dear? For two. Our visitor won't be staying.
She walked toward the kitchen and Mr. Beaver lowered his voice. "Let us be frank, Tumnus. You are not neutral. You never have been. You've been working for the Witch for years. Only you thought I didn't know it."
Out in the open. Tumnus felt the color drain from his face. "How long have you known? All this time?"
"Only a few years. Now, I will ask again that you leave our home and not upset my wife further."
Tumnus mustered the last of his resolve. "I met a child. A Daughter or Eve. By the Lamppost. Sixteen days ago."
Mr. Beaver set his hand on a chair to steady himself. "If this is some kind of ploy so that I will confess to hoping that the Witch will someday be supplanted, don't you think I've said quite enough to condemn myself already? But if you need further words to repeat to your mistress, you may tell her that I look wholeheartedly toward that day."
"This is not about tricks, Actus," Tumnus said, for the first time using the Beaver's given name. There was a child in the woods, a girl. I invited her home to tea."
"Why?" asked Mr. Beaver, alarmed.
"Because the Queen...the Witch...told me to."
"What have you done?"
"Nothing: I let her go. That's why I'm being arrested. Tonight. In a few hours."
"Sit down," Mr. Beaver commanded. "Why would you do that? Let the human go?"
"I'm not certain," Tumnus replied. "She was not what I expected. She's only eight years old. Such a tiny little thing, and so trusting. She just took my arm and I led her to my cave. We talked for hours. I started to play my flute." He looked up. "You do remember what I can do with my flute?" Mr. Beaver nodded, no doubt remembering the many times Tumnus had lulled a schoolfellow to sleep, causing him to be late to class. "But I couldn't," he said. "I took her back to the Lamppost, and then she left."
Mr. Beaver considered this news. "So the Witch's spells are weakening. Her enchantments cutting Narnia off from the adjoining lands is apparently flawed. Humans can enter Narnia. Who know but that the Kings and Queens will come next?"
"Not next, Actus. Now. Lucy visited me again only yesterday. She—"
"Lucy?"
"Her name. She is one of the Royal Four, I have no doubt."
"A child of eight years?"
"The Lord Digory and Lady Polly were only children, if the stories can be believed," Tumnus reminded him. "I questioned Lucy closely when we last spoke. She is the youngest of four children. Two brothers and two sisters. They must be the ones we have waited for."
Mrs. Beaver entered, setting out three, not two china cups and clucking her tongue. "If you boys have finished yelling at each other, I'll join you now, shall I?"
Mr. Beaver nodded. "Mr. Tumnus was just saying that—"
"I heard. I told you that you should have built these walls thicker." Mr. Beaver turned back to Tumnus. "Well, this is hopeful news," said Mr. Beaver, "if we can believe it."
Tumnus nodded. The words stung, but he had earned them. Many times over.
"It still begs the question," Mr. Beaver continued, "of why you have come here. We cannot hide you for any length of time. The wolves will sniff you out in a matter of hours, unless the snowfall were particularly heavy. But it hasn't snowed in days."
"I didn't come for help for myself. I came to give you this." Tumnus reached into his pocket and drew out the precious handkerchief, handing it to Mr. Beaver reluctantly. The last thing of Lucy's he would ever see, he supposed.
"I don't understand," said Mr. Beaver.
"It's Lucy's handkerchief," Tumnus said. "She'll come back. She's visited twice already. She'll likely return soon, maybe even with her siblings. Someone must be there to lead them on. If they become lost in Narnia without a guide (for I do not doubt Lucy will seek to help me: she had a noble heart.), they may be found by the Witch before they can do they good they have been sent here to do."
Mr. Beaver stared at the handkerchief, with its small embroidered "L", as if searching for truth within its linen folds. He nodded once. "It will be seen to," he said quietly. "What about you?"
Tumnus breathed a sigh and rose to leave. "It doesn't matter about me."
"Sit down," Mrs. Beaver ordered. "You said yourself the Police will not come till tonight. Maugrim always plans his arrests after sunset. He and his kind like to sleep during the day. At least you can finish your tea like civilized Narnians. In fact, I may have a cookie or two to go with it." She shuffled out of the room.
"She seems pleasant," Tumnus said. An awkward pause. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you're wedding."
Mr. Beaver nodded sadly. "Will you not at least make an attempt to escape them?"
Tumnus shook his head. "We both know how pointless that would be. Anyway, if they don't find me at home, they may well follow my scent here, and the two of you would be implicated, and then where would we be? The children must have a guide."
Mr. Beaver frowned, but couldn't disagree. They finished their tea in silence, along with the cookies Mrs. Beaver had so generously spared for her condemned guest. When all was finished, Tumnus graciously thanked her and her husband. Mr. Beaver saw him to the door.
Tumnus stepped outside and began to walk away. The door had not closed, and he knew Mr. Beaver watched him. He paused for a moment and spoke quietly over his shoulder.
"Actus?"
"Yes?"
"I was wrong."