Motherwell stood up from examining the fallen man. "Killing shot, you mean. He's quite gone."
"Serves him right, the blighter," Petheridge said. "Accusing me like that. I won't stand for it."
Thaxton was tongued-tied. He kept alternating his disbelieving gaze between the colonel and his victim. "You… you…"
"Eh, what?" Petheridge put the revolver back in his pocket. "Speak up, old man."
"You… killed him!"
"Bloody perceptive of you." The colonel sat down and crossed his legs. He appeared quite composed.
"No mystery about this one," Motherwell said. "Well, my lord, if you will continue?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Please continue. With your interrogation."
Thaxton was astonished. "You mean… go on with the-Aren't you going to do anything?"
"About what?"
"Good God, man. You mean to say you won't arrest the colonel?"
"Oh, that," Motherwell said. "Well, there was provocation."
"Provocation?"
"Yes, Wicklow was making wild charges. You do still maintain that the colonel was with you when the shots were fired?"
"Wait a minute. We never said that. I said that he was with us when we discovered the body. As a matter of fact-" Thaxton turned toward Petheridge.
Petheridge's small eyes coolly regarded him.
Thaxton looked away. "Well, I… I must be mistaken. Uh-"
"Please continue, my lord."
"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes."
Daphne Pembroke suddenly stood, dropped her cigarette, w and crushed it underfoot. "Oh, this is a lot of bother. I killed Honoria. Geoffrey's right. She's a witch, and Geoffrey and I needed her income, because Geoffrey and I were secretly planning to get married."
Thaxton was taken aback. "You killed Lady Festleton?"
"She did," Ballifants said. "And I killed Thayne-Chetwynde."
Daphne glared at him. "Geoffrey! You?"
"Oh, yes, my dear. I gradually realized you were flummoxing me. You and Humphrey were planning to do me in, and you'd inherit the income. Wouldn't you, Daphne?"
Daphne shrugged. "It's true. But you must die anyway, Geoffrey."
She raised a small silver-plated automatic pistol and aimed.
"Good Lord!" Thaxton said a second before the shot was fired.
No one made a move to stop Daphne. The shiny automatic barked once, and down went Ballifants.
Thaxton pleaded with Motherwell. "Do something!"
Motherwell was lighting his pipe. "I'm afraid it's gotten out of my hand, my lord. Best to let it all settle out naturally."
"And you, you filthy cow, you killed Sir Laurence," said Mr. Thripps to his wife. "My lover."
"And what of it?" Amanda sneered. "You haven't the brass to kill anybody, you sniveling coward."
"Wait!" Thaxton shouted. "Wait just a bloody minute!"
"I had every right to do the earl in!" Petheridge was shouting. "Every right! He put a lien on my property, he did. Bloody indecent of him! You don't do that to a friend. You simply don't, and I had it out with him." He turned to Thaxton and Motherwell. "And you idiots didn't even find the stealth shoes."
"Stealth shoes?" Motherwell said. "What shoes were those, Colonel?"
"The ones I made of twigs and things. Old wog trick, learned it in the East. They work like snowshoes, more or less. Covers up your tracks pretty well." Petheridge's hyena laugh was hideous.
Pandemonium erupted in the room, accusations and countercharges flying. Another shot rang out, this one among the staff. More shots. Bodies dropped left and right.
Thaxton stood stock still, shoulders slumped, jaw hanging low. Dalton rushed up and dragged him toward the door. "But… but it's madness!" Thaxton walked backward, not able to tear his eyes from the enigma of it all.
Furniture began to fly, fistfights breaking out all over. Even Motherwell waded in. Mr. Vespal was beating Featherstone with the chair he was handcuffed to, screaming, "Death to all white devils!"
"Utter madness!"
"That's exactly what it is!" Dalton shouted, still yanking on Lord Peter's arm. "And now we have to get out of here, quick! Run!"
"They're crackers, round the bend, all of them." Another shot, and a bullet whizzed by, very near. "Run!"
They sprinted down the hallway and into the foyer, where Blackpool stood, calmly holding the door.
His smile was a rictus of propriety. "Leaving? Good afternoon, gentlemen."
"Does this happen often?" asked Dalton as he shot out the door.
"Often enough," was Blackpool's reply.
"Absolute bloody madness," Thaxton was still saying. They ran to the road. It was a bright day, dumpling clouds afloat in a clear broth of sky. Birds sang; and a bracing wind was up.
"Can you see the portal?" Dalton asked.
"Who killed the Mahajadi, then?" Thaxton asked as they ran.
"Daphne, probably," Dalton said. "Or the gamekeeper, out of jealousy over Honoria, who was having it on with Pandanam. Or any one of them. Do you care?"
Thaxton stopped and looked back. Blackpool was still at the door, looking out impassively. Then he closed it. Thaxton shook his head. "No."
"There it is!" Dalton cried, eagerly pointing. "See it?"
"I see it."
They made for the magic doorway that opened onto the castle and led back to sweet reason.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"Are you sure this is going to work?"
After asking the question, Max looked out over the laboratory floor. Strange things were going on, strange enough so that Max was thinking, I've walked into a horror movie.
Brilliant discharges crackled and snapped between towering coils. Sparks crawled their way up Jacob's ladders. Banks of indicator lights blinked. The lab was alive with the sounds of exotic machinery, humming and whining and whistling. You could barely hear yourself madly plotting. The tangy odor of ozone was strong.
Speaking of horror movies: there was Hochstader in a white lab coat, wearing dark goggles, bending over a bank of switches and other controls. He looked the part of the mad scientist.
He straightened up, lifted his goggles, and looked at Max. "Did you say something?"
"Yeah. Is this going to work?"
"Look, this is an experiment. The purpose of an experiment is to test a theory. I got a theory. We're going to test it and see if it's any good. Clear?"
"Clear. But what exactly are we going to do, again?"
Hochstader sat down at the computer station and swiveled the chair around to face Max.
"I've loaded all available data on Andrea into the computer. We have graphics input taken directly from a scan of your memories. We have everything. What we're going to try to do is conjure her."
"Conjure her," Max repeated. "That's magic."
"Exactly, but this is magic with a tech twist. Those machines out there can do just about anything. They can materialize things out of the blue. Out of the magical ether. Feed enough data into them, and they can give you exactly what you want, to order. If all goes well, Andrea will materialize on that platform over there. She'll be exactly as you imagined her. And you'll have her back."
Max shook his head. "I understand. My question is this: Will it be the real Andrea and not just… you know, a simulacrum?"
Hochstader held up a hand. "Don't ask! You're better off if you don't concern yourself with that question. I don't know anyone who can give a convincing answer."
"Why not?"
"Oh, it all has to do with quantum stuff. You ever take any physics?"
"Not since high school."
"Oh. Well, just forget about it, then. Andrea really doesn't exist except when you perceive her. Think of it that way. If this works, you'll be perceiving her, and she'll exist. Get the picture?"
"I still don't really understand. It's so crazy."
"Yeah, but try to flow with it."
"Right. Flow with it."