CHAPTER FOUR

Oran Vetchy sat at the head of the conference table at Ravenswood, his pet bird perched on his right shoulder. Lorraine Creasy and William Sepulcher sat on either side of him.

"Meet the newest member of Raven." Vetchy turned to the voluminous red curtain behind him and snapped his fingers. "You may come out now!"

Through the curtain emerged the biggest man Lorraine and Sepulcher had ever seen! He was at least seven feet tall with a hulking frame that suggested superhuman strength. His hatchet-like face sat beneath a thick crop of neatly trimmed black hair. The man wore a conventional black suit with a string tie, long coat, and hat.

Vetchy said, "This is Voltaire."

"Rawk," said the raven. "Voltaire."

Recovering from her momentary shock, Lorraine stood up and approached the behemoth. "Hello, Voltaire! I'm Lorraine Creasy. Welcome to Ravenswood!"

"Thank you." Voltaire spoke in a drawl that did not suggest mental acuity.

Sepulcher approached him as well and offered his right hand. "Pleased to meet you, Voltaire! I'm Professor William Sepulcher."

"Rawk," said the raven. "Toombs."

"Not Toombs," he exploded. "I'm Sepulcher, you obstinate avian!"

"Nice to make your acquaintance." Voltaire shook hands, but was careful not to squeeze too hard. Nonetheless, Sepulcher's face belied the pain Voltaire's grip had inflicted on him.

Vetchy said, "Now that we've made the proper introductions, please be seated."

Once they had taken their chairs, Vetchy continued. "Voltaire has a history with men of ambition. He once worked for Dr. Miguelito Loveless."

"Ah, yes," Sepulcher exclaimed. "The dwarf. Didn't he wish to take over California and make it a Utopia for orphaned children?"

"Yes," said Voltaire. "Three times he tried, but those Secret Service agents ruined it for him."

"Was one of them James West?" This from Lorraine.

"Yes," the big man replied, "and Artemus Gordon."

"Hmm," said Lorraine. "I don't know Mr. Gordon, but I certainly remember Jim." She closed her eyes and smiled.

Vetchy looked at her askance, but said nothing. Instead, he addressed his new employee. "Please, Voltaire, tell us about Dr. Loveless."

"Rawk," said the raven. "Loveless."

"When I first came to him, I was mute, but he helped me to talk. Dr. Loveless is very smart, but very mean. When things didn't go his way, he'd yell at me and call me bad names. Sometimes he kicked me. It didn't hurt, but I didn't like it either. After the third time, I walked away."

"Good for you!" This from Sepulcher. "And we're no strangers to James West. We had a most excellent operation going until he destroyed it. Believe you me, we have a score to settle with that man."

"Me, too," said Voltaire. "That's why I came to Mr. Vetchy. That's not the name I had for you, though."

Vetchy smiled without humor. "After my escape from Mr. West, I changed my name. And once I broke these two out of prison, we thought it best if they took on new names as well. Rest assured, Voltaire: if Mr. West and I should ever meet again, I'll give you first crack at him."

The giant grinned, revealing teeth the size of marshmallows. "I like that."

xxx

Clementine McGillicutty hadn't been this excited since her wedding day some fifty years ago. It was time for her treatment!

Wearing a bathing costume—ankle-length dress, long pants, and long sleeves—she stood outside the exclusive bathhouse that Ravenswood reserved for its special guests. Lorraine Creasy accompanied her. She reached into her cape's pocket and pulled out a ring.

"Before you go in, Mrs. McGillicutty, I need you put this ring on. It's an important part of your treatment."

"Very well." She held out her right hand. "I don't claim to understand, but Mr. Vetchy's letter promised that I'll look years younger."

"And you will." Lorraine slipped the ring onto the old woman's finger. "Now in you go. And whatever you do, keep the ring on."

As this bathhouse had not been made for the public, it was smaller than most—possibly fifteen by twenty feet wide and twelve feet tall. Clementine lowered herself into the pool and took in the lukewarm water. She ambled back and forth, enjoying the sounds of the water lapping against her lower extremities.

Suddenly, she felt different. Clementine experienced an energy and vitality she had not felt since her twenties. She looked at her hands; they were unwrinkled! Not only that, but the blue veins had vanished from her legs, and her vision was better! When she entered the bathhouse, the opposite wall had been a blur. Now she could see it clearly!

Excited, she emerged from the pool and threw open the door. A smiling Lorraine Creasy greeted her with a mirror.

Clementine yelped with excitement at her reflection. Her gray hair was black again, and her face was wrinkle-free! Instinctively, she hugged Lorraine.

"Oh! I'm sorry, my dear. That was most un-ladylike."

Lorraine chuckled. "Perfectly all right."

"Oh, but your uniform is wet now!"

"I'll change into a dry one." And think about the $10,000 you paid for your treatment.

Clementine couldn't stop looking in the mirror. "My god, you work miracles here!"

"It's pure science, dear."

"But how? How did you do it?"

Lorraine held up an admonitory finger. "Remember the agreement you signed. You don't ask how we did it, and you don't tell anyone about us."

"But my friends will want your treatment, too. What do I tell them?"

"That you'll write us on their behalf. We're happy for new clients, but we must keep our work a secret. We can't have the government snooping around."

Clementine looked worried. "Surely, you're not breaking the law?"

"Oh, no! What we're doing is not illegal, and we hope to keep it that way."

"I see what you mean, dear. The government does have a way of meddling in private enterprise." She kept looking in the mirror. "If only my Horace had lived to see this!"