“What?”

“I sort of have to get out of here.”

“Oh, Evan-”

I put my hands against the lid of the coffin, took a breath, composed myself, and with all my strength pushed at the coffin lid.

Nothing whatsoever happened.

“It’s all nailed and bolted together,” I said. “If I could just take the damned thing apart.”

“Do you have any tools down there?”

“A book, a ham sandwich, a money belt – you’d think I could buy my way out, for Christ’s sake. A flashlight – just a second, maybe I can get a hold of that flashlight.”

I squirmed around and managed to get my hand in my pocket. It was the wrong pocket. I squirmed some more and found the right pocket and got the flashlight out. I switched it on. It was a tiny little thing but it was blinding in there. I blinked at the light for a few seconds, then played it around the interior of the casket. There were all sorts of hinges and clasps and things, and none of them looked as though my fingernails would have much effect on them.

“You have the light, Evan? Will you be able to get out now?”

“I don’t see how,” I said. “I would need, oh, a screwdriver and a knife and a saw and God knows what else.”

“I have them.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll give them to you.”

“Sure, Plum. That’s wonderful.”

“What is the matter, Evan?”

I said, “Once upon a time there were two brothers, and they both went out and bought horses. And they had to figure out how to tell the horses apart. They counted their hoofs, but both horses had the same number. They painted a big X on one, but the rain washed it off. Finally they measured them, and lo and behold they had a sure-fire way to tell them apart, because the black horse was two inches shorter than the white horse.”

“But if one was black and the other white-”

“That’s the point, Plum.”

“I don’t understand why you raise the question of color at a time like this.”