The seemingly innocuous question had a frightful effect on the girl. Her chin quivered, her mouth lost its shape, and her eyes dilated into staring black circles.
‘Ach, Gott – what has happened? Is it – has she – ’
‘No questions,’ the older woman interrupted. ‘Sleep again. Sleep.’
‘Stay with me!’
‘There is no need. Sleep, I say.’
She moved back, pushing us with her, and closed the door. I had a last glimpse of Irma’s face, rigid with terror, and it made me forget what few manners I possess.
‘I’ll sit with the girl, if you won’t,’ I said. ‘She needs reassurance, not mysterious silence.’
The Gräfin locked the door.
‘I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, young woman, but I assume you are our newest guest, Dr Bliss. Is your degree in the field of psychiatry?’
‘I don’t have to be a psychiatrist to realize – ’
Tony stepped heavily on my slippered foot, and the old woman went on.
‘My niece’s welfare is my business, I believe. As for your search tonight – I have proved to you that it was not Irma you saw. If you are still curious, gentlemen, I suggest you visit Miss Bliss’s room – if you have not already made yourselves at home there. At the foot of the bed – conveniently placed for visitors – there hangs a certain portrait. And now, if you will excuse me, I need my rest. Good night.’
‘Why, that old – ’ I began.
This time it was George who stepped on my foot. He was shorter than Tony, but he weighed more. I yelled.
‘What’s all this about a portrait?’ George inquired loudly. The Gräfin’s footsteps were still audible above. I didn’t care whether she heard me or not.
‘Oh, hell,’ I said. ‘Double hell. Come on, you guys. I’ve got a bottle of Scotch in my suitcase, and I think this is the time to break it out.’
Shortly thereafter George put down an empty glass and stared owlishly at me and Tony.
‘All right, Doctors. Let’s hear some high-class intellectual rationalizing. What was it we saw tonight?’
Tony had recovered his cool. There was only one funny thing. He couldn’t look at the portrait. He just couldn’t stand looking at it. Staring firmly at his glass, he said, ‘Either it was the girl, or it was a ghost. If you believe in ghosts – that’s what it was. If you don’t – someone is putting us on.’
George snorted and poured himself another drink, without waiting to be asked.
‘Is that the academic brain at work? Your alternatives don’t impress me. You think the Gräfin lied about locking that door?’
‘That doesn’t follow. There are any number of possibilities. Maybe she thought she locked it, and didn’t. Maybe someone else unlocked it, and locked it again later. Maybe there’s another door out of the room.’
‘Yeah.’ George looked more cheerful. ‘That’s so. But do you remember what our apparition was wearing?’
‘A light robe,’ I said. ‘White or pale grey, with full sleeves and a gathered yoke.’
‘Well, you saw the girl’s nightgown – God save us. I also saw her dressing gown, or housecoat, or whatever you call it. It was lying across the foot of her bed.’
‘And it, I suppose, was black,’ said Tony.
‘Navy blue,’ I said. ‘With small light-coloured flowers. Very unflattering, with her colouring . . . That doesn’t prove anything. She could have a closetful of long white robes, and she had plenty of time to change.’
Tony stood up.
‘This is a waste of time. You think that girl was faking. Well, I don’t. Come on, Nolan, let’s be off.’
George sipped his drink.
‘You two kill me,’ he said conversationally. ‘Why don’t we put our cards on the table?’
‘What cards?’ I asked. ‘You know why we are here and vice versa. If I judge your sneaky character accurately, you probably know by now as much as Tony does. But you don’t know any more than that; and if you did, you wouldn’t tell us. You must be crazy if you think I’m going to give you any information.’
George reached for the bottle. I moved it away from his hand. Good Scotch is expensive. Unperturbed, he grinned at me.
‘You’re quite a girl. If you find the shrine, I might revise my long-seated hostility towards marriage.’
‘That’s big of you. But my hostility is just as deep-seated, if not as long established.’
George stood up. Still smiling, he stretched lazily. Muscles rippled all over him.
‘I’m noted for getting what I want,’ he murmured.
Tony, who had been swelling like a turkey, couldn’t stand it any longer.
‘Play your hot love scenes in private, why don’t you?’
‘If you’d take the hint and leave, we would,’ said George.
‘Oh, no, we wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘Out, both of you. I need my beauty sleep. Who knows, I may not find the shrine. Then I would have to rely on sheer sex appeal to catch myself a husband.’
‘I’m betting on you,’ said George. He glanced at Tony, who said shortly, ‘It’s all for none and one for each in this game. We’ll see. Come on, Nolan. Good night, Vicky.’
The undercurrents in that conversation set my teeth on edge, and I was still thinking about them the next morning. When I reached the dining room, Tony was the only one at our table. He grunted at me, but didn’t look up.
‘Where’s George?’ I asked.
‘Been and gone.’
‘Did you two exchange any meaningful remarks after you left me?’
‘Define “meaningful.” Tony looked at me. ‘You know what that crook is planning, don’t you? He’ll follow us until we find – uh – something, then jump in and grab it.’
‘Time to worry about that if and when we find it. At the moment we aren’t even warm.’
‘Wrong. The time to worry is now, before Nolan pops out of a dark corner and hits somebody over the head.’
‘He won’t hit me over the head,’ I said smugly.
‘Are you sure?’
Come to think of it, I wasn’t at all sure. I wouldn’t give Tony the satisfaction of agreeing with him in his assessment of George’s scruples, or lack thereof; but I didn’t object when Tony proposed that we make a joint expedition out to the old Wachtturm. As he said, it wasn’t a good place for solitary exploring. A lot of nasty accidents could occur in a crumbling, deserted place like that.
Before we had finished breakfast, Irma came to the table. She was wan and pale, with dark circles under her eyes. On her, even baggy eyes looked good. Tony got to his feet so fast he almost turned his chair over.
‘My aunt wishes you – both of you – to have tea with her this afternoon,’ she said.
‘How nice,’ I said, since Tony was too preoccupied with his tottering chair to be coherent. ‘What time?’
‘Four o’clock.’ She didn’t look at me; she was watching Tony from under those long lashes. His confusion seemed to amuse her; she gave him a small but effective smile before she turned away.
‘I suppose,’ Tony said, capturing the chair and sitting on it, ‘she’s going to bawl us out.’
‘Who, the Gräfin?’ There was only one Gräfin in that house; it was impossible to think of Irma by her title. The word, with its guttural r and flat, hard vowel, suited the old lady.
‘Let her complain,’ I went on. ‘If she gives me a hard time, I’ll report her to the SPCC, or whatever the German equivalent may be.’
‘Irma’s no child,’ Tony murmured.
‘If you want to explore ruins, let’s go,’ I said, rising.
The going was rough. The undergrowth between the castle and the keep was ninety per cent brambles. They had the longest thorns I’ve ever seen on any plant. Tony kept falling into them; I gathered he was still preoccupied with Irma, because after a while he said, ‘What makes you think the old lady is hassling Irma? We haven’t seen her do anything particularly vicious.’