Hugo knew which knife had gone because its outline was still visible in the felt. The smallest one, useful for tight curves. He kept the tools in order so students would learn to put them back without looking at their hands.
The evening class had only two students. One wanted to carve a bird for his wife. The other said he had always wanted to try working with wood. Hugo had given them blocks of lime and shown them how to sit without leaning into the blade.
They recognized each other when the second man took off his coat.
"I thought it was you," said the first.
Neither explained. Hugo carried on discussing the grain, hoping the lesson would supply enough ordinary business for whatever had happened before it. He was seventy-six and had taught through divorces, feuds and people discovering they had voted differently. Most could manage an evening if their hands were occupied.
This time the second man put his block down.
"We should talk."
The first student's name was Mace. He had a tremor in his right hand and had asked whether the class would be difficult because of it. Hugo had shown him how to brace his wrist. Now Mace's hand was still beneath the bench, and the little knife was gone.
The other man, Ellis, unfastened his collar. Something black was clipped beneath the cloth.
"Is that recording?" Hugo asked.
"It's for a documentary. He knows who I am."
Mace laughed without looking up.
Ellis had managed the company that built an extension which collapsed during a party. Mace's wife died in it. The criminal case ended without a conviction. Hugo remembered the newspaper photographs, but not well enough to recognize a man from the room where they had been taken.
"You booked the same class," Mace said.
"I tried to reach you."
"You tried to reach me through people with cameras."
Ellis looked toward Hugo, perhaps expecting an impartial adult. Hugo was looking at the edge of the bench. A bright tip appeared beneath Mace's fist and disappeared again.
"We can stop for tea," Hugo said.
Neither moved.
Ellis took a folded sheet from his pocket. There were questions on it. The first asked what Mace would say if he could speak directly to the person he blamed. Hugo could read it upside down because Ellis had placed it between them as though it were a lesson plan.
Mace stood. His stool scraped against the coats hung by the door. He held the knife low beside his leg, trying to keep his hand steady.
"Write what you did," he said. "On that."
Ellis remained seated, but his eyes went to the door. He had arranged a confrontation and was discovering that arrangement did not give him control over it.
Hugo put both palms on the bench. He did not reach for Mace or tell him to calm down. Those instructions had rarely calmed anyone he had taught.
"I've lost my ring," he said.
Mace looked at him with open disbelief.
Hugo's wedding ring had been in the enamel cup beside the sink since he began sharpening tools. He always took it off for that work. He kept his left hand spread on the wood so both men could see the pale groove.
"It must be in the shavings. Don't move your feet."
He crouched. For several seconds neither man helped. Hugo began picking curls of wood from beneath the bench, holding them up, letting them fall. He told them his wife had put the ring on him fifty-one years earlier. He did not need to pretend the difficulty in his voice. Thinking of her while a man held a knife in the room she used to clean was enough.
Ellis bent first. He moved his stool aside, clearing the doorway. Mace watched him, the knife still in his hand.
"You don't have to find it," Hugo said to Mace. "Just stop him stepping on it."
Mace looked down. He put the knife flat on the bench so he could lift the loose mat. Hugo stood slowly and covered it with the tool roll. Ellis saw him do it. Mace saw too. Nobody mentioned the ring when Hugo suggested they finish another evening.
Ellis left first. Mace waited until the sound of his car had faded, then asked whether Hugo wanted help looking. Hugo said he would find it. Mace nodded, as though that was an answer to a different question, and put on his coat.
The little microphone had caught everything. Ellis could do what he liked with it. Hugo had no contract with him and no reason to believe the evening would remain private.
After locking the door, Hugo took his ring from the cup. A white circle of soap marked the gold. He washed it, dried it on his sleeve and put it on before returning to the bench.
Mace's blade had left a narrow gouge where he set it down. Hugo sanded until the groove no longer caught his fingertip. The two unfinished birds waited on opposite shelves. One had the beginning of a wing. The other was still an ordinary block of wood with a pencil line around it.
