Fjallkonan #35 | 8 September 1900

WHEN I GOT UP FROM THE TABLE I LIT A CIGAR AND walked towards the window. I found it rather chilly inside, so I opened the window to enjoy the warmer air that had been heated by the sun and which had settled between the walls of the courtyard.

As I stood smoking, I heard something like a lock being bolted shut and turned around. The mute old lady had entered, but where had she come from? I’d been so tired and absentminded when she first came in that I hadn’t noticed which way she’d come. I could tell that she hadn’t entered through the door to the corridor that runs along the castle.

I was convinced she must have entered another way, and that somewhere there had to be a secret door that she regularly used.¹⁹² I had often tried in vain to talk to her with gestures; she simply could not understand me, staring at me in bewilderment, almost as if she were afraid. The only way to find out was to watch precisely whence she came, and where she went.

I saw her peering at me from the corner of her eye, but I pretended not to notice. Turning to the window, I glanced over my shoulder to watch what she was doing. I was sure somewhere in this dining room was the door to the exit I’d sought for so long, hoping to escape my imprisonment.

Quickly and skilfully, she took the cloth off the table and put the tableware into a wall cabinet I hadn’t noticed before. After picking up the pieces of glass lying on the floor, I saw her hesitate, not moving. She looked in my direction, and I could tell she was suspicious of me. I pretended not to notice anything but observed her all the more closely. However, a moment later, I happened to look out the window at the swallows flying over the courtyard, and I heard the same whistling sound as before. When I looked back the old woman had vanished … This time, I clearly heard the sound coming from the small octagonal room between the dining room and my bedroom. I had left the door to the dining room open.

The secret door had to be there.

Quickly, I charged into the tiny cabin to examine the room.

I checked it as thoroughly as I could but found nothing. As the space is without windows and a shimmer from the adjoining rooms is its only light source, it was very dim. I decided to have another, more thorough, look later and stopped groping around for now.

I was also quite tired from wandering about the castle earlier in the day, so I went to bed and fell asleep at once, but I woke up again after an hour, feeling well and rested. I expected the Count to be home by now, so I went into his library, but he was not there. To pass the time I started writing in my journal, and it all seemed so unbelievable—more dream than reality—were it not for the tangible evidence, which cannot be contested. I hardly know what to believe, but worst of all I cannot trust the Count. Why is he buying himself a house in London and moving there? My employer is a thoroughly honest person, and it would damage his reputation were he to facilitate the migration of shady scoundrels to London—there are enough of them in the city already.

The Count should arrive any moment now. The sun is setting, and that lovely valley is fraught with evening scent and the same gentle beauty as the first time I saw it. I should go up to the top floor, as there must be an even more captivating view from the portrait gallery and the tower. Shouldn’t I …?¹⁹³