Bruno was halfway up the stairs when Paolo and I entered the hall. He had one hand on the rail and the other pressed over his inside pocket, as though a place in that room could be kept there. I had promised to bring Paolo safely before the clubs. Now the narrow staircase held a line of men behind Bruno, and every face turned toward us. Paolo stopped beside me. His breathing had shortened during the walk. “Don't take me home,” he said before I could speak.
I sent the young steward at the entrance upstairs to fetch his senior. Then I moved past Paolo and put my foot on the lowest tread. Bruno looked down without moving. “They know I'm coming.” I told him they knew Paolo was coming too. A man behind him said we were blocking everyone. He was right. The front door kept opening against our backs, admitting cold air and more impatient bodies. I asked the men below to wait outside. Two went. The rest pressed closer to hear.
The senior steward appeared above Bruno, carrying the admission list. He called Paolo's name, not mine. That small distinction steadied me. Bruno turned his shoulders across the staircase. I went up until we stood almost chest to chest. “Move enough for him,” I said. He asked whether I meant to carry Paolo into another vote he could lose. I could smell hair tonic and damp wool. Below us Paolo began climbing. I put my palm against the wall and held my place.
Someone shoved from behind Bruno. His elbow struck my mouth, or his fist did; I saw only a sleeve and the brief white ceiling. Blood warmed my lower lip. My first movement was toward him. I stopped it against the rail so hard that a splinter entered my thumb. “Bring Paolo through,” I told the steward. Bruno waited for me to swing. When I did not, the man above him pulled him against the inner wall, making a narrow space beside the banister.
Paolo climbed through that space with the young steward ahead and my shoulder behind him. A boot caught my heel. I kept moving, one stair at a time, until the landing widened beneath us. There I turned sideways and held back the next men while Paolo crossed the threshold. Bruno came up last, rubbing his wrist. No one had been dragged away. No chairs had fallen. That was all I had managed, and for a moment it felt like more than I deserved.
Inside, the clubs had arranged ordinary kitchen chairs in uneven rows. Neri sat near the windows. He saw my mouth and looked toward Bruno, then away. Paolo took a chair at the front without asking permission. I brought him water from a pitcher beside the stove. He caught my sleeve before I could retreat. “Say the part you know,” he said. “Not what you think will save me.” I set the glass within his reach and went to the table where the stewards were sorting their lists.
I had told some of these men about the wrong card before. Others had heard only that I had been deceived. I asked them all to listen now. The senior steward tried to begin with the disputed tally, but I stayed standing. “Bruno's card did not match the name I was expecting,” I said. “I saw that. Neri vouched for him, and I let him pass.” A chair shifted behind me. “I wasn't fooled about the card. I chose to overlook it.”
Someone asked whether I had known Paolo would be taken. I said no. Another demanded why my ignorance should excuse the opening I had given them. I said it did not. My lip had begun swelling, and the words came thickly enough to sound rehearsed. I made myself continue: I had recovered Paolo's token from Bruno during our struggle after the banquet. I could describe that struggle. I could not describe bargains made elsewhere. Neri rose, but the steward put a hand flat on the table.
For the first time that morning, the room became quiet without anyone threatening it. The steward closed the tally book and moved it beyond his elbow. He said no business would proceed while the admission remained unanswered. Bruno started toward the rear door; two club members stood up, and he stopped. I stepped away from Paolo so no one could mistake whose account I had given. The steward pointed to the empty space before the table. “Bruno first. Then Neri. We will hear what each of you did.”