‘I hate to say this,’ observed Howard, ‘but it was exactly the same situation just now, wasn’t it, Brian?’
Brian coughed, obviously ill at ease:
‘In any case, the windows were shut.’
‘Come to think of it, the lamp was lit and Francis certainly couldn’t have had time to do it.’
‘It was I who forgot to extinguish it,’ confessed Brian.
Meadows cleared his throat forcefully and declared:
‘It’s about time you explained to me under what circumstances you found Francis.’
Hilton spoke first. Then it was Brian’s turn, and he was at pains to explain the reason why he’d been in the study earlier. The mention of the hypothetical manuscript — and of Harvey Thorne — did nothing to relax the atmosphere.
‘Him again,’ Meadows couldn’t help saying. ‘But please go on, Brian.’
‘Mostyn announced your arrival at nine o’clock. I started to search all the bookshelves until about ten, with no result. I went back to my room discouraged and continued my research, just as Sarah had suggested. I stayed there about an hour….’
Meadows stopped him with a gesture.
‘Sarah showed me something once.’
So saying, he went over to the bookcase to the right of the fireplace, which he examined carefully.
‘I seem to remember there’s a pivoted panel leading to a storage area.’
Brian nodded and came to join him. He removed several books and slid his hand into the resulting space. Part of the shelving swung open and the three of them went into the storage area. Brian crossed the room and turned on a switch near the door leading to the corridor. There was so much furniture stacked there that the walls were almost hidden. Brian pointed to an open wardrobe with half its contents emptied in front of it, mainly books and old newspapers.
‘I was here when I heard the sound of a thud,’ he explained.
His remark didn’t seem to interest the doctor, who closed the pivoted panel. He tried in vain to reopen it.
‘It’s not possible,’ said Brian. ‘You can only activate it from the study side.’
Dr. Meadows gave Brian a thoughtful look and studied the panel again.
‘What happened next?’ he asked.
‘I was surprised, obviously, and I stood still with my ears open. I dimly heard someone call out and, ten seconds later, the call was repeated much louder and I recognised Mr. Hilton’s voice. I opened the door here and you know the rest.’
The young doctor nodded his head silently, crossed the room and opened the door. He went out into the corridor, followed by the others.
‘So the unknown visitor — whatever he or it was — only had about fifteen seconds to escape.’
‘Yes,’ replied Brian hesitantly. ‘But he must have done it on tiptoe. Apart from Mr. Hilton’s shouts, I heard absolutely nothing. And I’ve got very keen hearing.’
‘In any case,’ continued Meadows, pointing to the opening to the spiral staircase, ‘he could only have gone that way. Are we agreed?’
The others nodded and followed him down the stairs to a small tiled area, perfectly clean. Brian opened the door to the kitchen, turned on the light switch and observed that the kitchen, too, was immaculate. He went across the room to a cupboard at the other end which he opened and took out a torchlight which he handed to Meadows.
The doctor took it, unlocked the door to the outside and opened it.
The ray of the lamp swept the area around the door — which the rain had transformed into a mud bath — and the three men noted it was utterly devoid of any footprint.
‘It stopped raining at about ten o’clock,’ declared Meadows. ‘Which means that our fugitive, if he took this way out — and, as we’ve seen, there was no other choice — would unavoidably have left traces in this muck. What’s more, if he’d have tried to come in this way — even though I don’t see how he could have unlocked the door from the outside — he would just as unavoidably have left traces of his passage. Yet the floors are as clean as a whistle and there’s no mat on which he could have cleaned his muddy shoes.’
‘So, no real person,’ concluded Brian. ‘Harris should never have unsealed that room. Never….’
Far more than the damp and the cold, the tone of his voice made his companions shiver.
‘I did warn him,’ he continued, ‘and now you can see what’s happened since … That room possesses a terrible power. It killed Harvey and Harris and almost drove Sarah mad… and now Francis. It has to be sealed again, and as quickly as possible.’
There was a long silence.
‘If I understand correctly,’ declared Mike Meadows, eyeing Brian sceptically, ‘you predicted tonight’s incident as well?’
‘Correct.’
‘Just as you announced the death of your brother?’
‘As well.’
The night was dark, but at that moment there was a break in the clouds and the baleful moon illuminated Brian’s face and the metallic gleam in his distant gaze.
‘How… how do you do it?’ asked Meadows, apparently impressed by the clairvoyant’s attitude.
‘Things are as they must be. No one can alter the course of destiny.’
15
Sarah stared disconsolately at the mirror. How long had she been there, scrutinising that pale and anxious face? More than half an hour, anyway. And more than half an hour before that, masking those awful bags under her eyes with make-up. A total waste of time, as it turned out. The result was there in the pitiless reflection in the mirror: an anxious woman with many sleepless nights behind her.
She couldn’t keep spending whole nights dwelling on her terrible memories. She felt she was wasting away. If only she could talk to Mike… Mike who was so attentive, so sensitive and who tolerated her changes of mood so patiently.
He’d obviously noticed that something wasn’t quite right with her, just as he’d realised it wasn’t a “physical” illness. He’d questioned her several times — discreetly and skilfully, needless to say. She couldn’t blame him, because he was acting in her best interests, but her response had been complete silence to the point of rudeness. But what could she have said? Certainly not the truth — and she didn’t want to lie to him.
She gave a deep sigh and lit a cigarette to give herself the illusion of comfort. When had this slide towards the abyss started? It had begun with Harris’s death, but she’d recovered from that. Francis’s sickness a month ago? No, it was well before that.
With an effort, she cast her mind farther back and had a flash of insight. She shuddered at the thought which had occurred to her.
Mike Meadows! Since she’d known him in a different light than friend and doctor… Yes, from that moment on… No… It wasn’t possible! And yet….
As if in a dream, she recalled the elegant figure with the laughing eyes full of reassurance which had overwhelmed her….
There was a knock on the door and the reflection of the man in her thoughts appeared behind hers in the mirror.
She stood up, turned round and melted in his arms. Mike Meadows held her at arm’s length, all the better to contemplate her.
‘How lovely you are tonight, darling. That red dress is marvellous….’
His warm and soothing voice had always had a magical effect on her. The charm was still there, sweeping everything else away. She replied teasingly:
‘Just tonight? And what’s marvellous, the red dress or me?’
The admiring look spoke for itself. Then the expression on the doctor’s face hardened.