Where had Kirie got to, the darned mutt? The house was even more labyrinthine than Rath remembered. He had to reckon with meeting Wolfgang Marquard or his aged servant at any moment. He still didn’t know if they were in cahoots. Whatever the case, he was determined to fell the old man if he should encounter him again.
Time and time again he was overcome by dizzy spells and outbreaks of cold sweat, and had to pause to lean against the wall. Sometimes he remembered to take a swig of apple juice, and sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he forgot he was carrying the bottle at all. His thoughts strayed constantly, wandering through their own private labyrinth. It took a superhuman effort not to lose sight of his goal.
At some point he had climbed a set of stairs, not the large staircase in the vestibule or the small spiral staircase, but another, and now he had the chance to go either right or left down a long corridor. He turned to the right because he thought he could hear Kirie barking in that direction, and then found himself standing in front of a large, bolted double-leaf door.
This was surely no longer part of the servants’ quarters, but something more formal. He hesitated before opening it. Kirie couldn’t get through a bolted door. He must have taken the wrong turn, so back he went until he heard her barking again. He could hear her through the door.
He plucked up his courage and carefully opened it only to find himself in the vestibule once more.
It was dark, but he didn’t dare switch on the light. The gleam from the door through which he had just entered helped him find his way, as well as Kirie’s barking, which now sounded afresh.
If he had heard correctly, it was coming from somewhere he had already been that afternoon. When he had followed the old servant into Marquard’s reception room. Why had she chosen to go back there, of all places, rather than dash for freedom through some open door, some open window?
He sighed. To his right he felt the call of the main front door. Just one step and he would be out in the open, where he could call for backup. But he couldn’t leave without the stupid dog! Who knew what Marquard might do to her?
If only she would stop barking.
At least Kirie granted him that wish. Since her last bark, when he entered the vestibule, he hadn’t heard a thing.
He opened the door which Albert had opened for him a few hours before and stepped into a dark room. If he remembered correctly, he still had to pass through two rooms to reach the drawing room. Gradually he groped his way towards the next door.
Hopefully Marquard had already gone to bed.
Wishful thinking. A flickering gleam of light shone through the crack in the door. Evidently the master was having a little drink by the fire. Kirie had nothing better to do than come running here?
You’re on your own, Rath thought, you stupid, ungrateful little mutt.
He was about to turn and creep back towards the vestibule, and the main front door, when he heard a voice he recognised.
Charly?
That couldn’t be right. What on earth was she doing here?
Perhaps he was mistaken, and it was the latest actress Marquard meant to immortalise, as he put it. Then he heard another familiar voice.
Paul!
What were the two of them doing in Wolfgang Marquard’s drawing room?
Or perhaps it wasn’t Wolfgang Marquard’s drawing room at all? Perhaps he was long since back at home and hadn’t realised? There were a few gaps in his memory. They were in there at any rate, his friends, no doubt they’d been waiting for hours already and it was high time he went in. What was he doing still standing out here anyway? He was so tired, he needed to sit down in his chair and listen to music and fall asleep. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted.
He opened the door to his living room, but someone had stolen the record player and put a fireplace there instead. Wolfgang Marquard was standing by the fire. What business did he have here? He ought to let him be, he was the one who was trying to kill him and Kirie. Now he even had a gun. Rath recognised his own Mauser. Did a man like Marquard even know how to handle it? Someone ought to show him.
And there was Paul, who seemed suddenly to take off from the floor and fly, old Wittkamp had never told him he could fly, he was probably showing off in front of Charly, the swine, for Charly really was sitting there.
Charlotte Ritter had returned and was gazing at him with those wide eyes. Those great big, wide eyes. How lovely!
He managed a smile…then someone turned the room upside down, just like that, and switched off the lights. The darkness had him once more, dragging him inexorably into its murky depths.