It’s true I am prone to suspicion, but I was certain that he had begun singing when the footsteps approached in order to establish an alibi: to show that he was with me and not making any trouble, not getting into any mischief; he was just having a little singsong …
“Sorry,” I said. “Can we leave the dominant female for some other time? Would you kindly explain why you’re in climbing gear at this time of night? In the films, by the way, it’s what the hotel thieves wear … And in any case, you haven’t explained how you got to my room.”
“Oh, that’s simple. You know, as we arrived I noticed that there was a balcony up here on our floor, with carved figures taking the weight of the one above on their heads. I immediately felt I just had to climb up there. I’ve never done bearded stone statues before. And then I couldn’t get to sleep, I was so upset by the unfriendly reception we got from the Earl. Anyway, night climbing is my speciality. So I togged up and went out on to the balcony.”
“And climbed up?”
“No, that’s my point. I got out on the balcony, and found that the whole castle was surrounded.”
“What?”
“Oh yes. A horseman was standing at the gate, with a torch in his hand. He spotted me, and started shouting at me.”
“What was he saying?”
“I’ve no idea. He spoke some really strange local dialect. Actually, he only said one word, but I didn’t understand even that. But just that one word was pretty unpleasant. So I came back inside.”
“And then?”
“Then I tried to get back to my room, and met this thingy … this apparition … in the corridor. I started to get curious. I thought I’d come and ask you. You’re such a clever person, I was interested to see what you’d make of it all. So, what do you think?”
“What do I think? ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio Than are dreamed of in your philosophy’.”
“Why do you call me Horatio? Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Whichever you choose. And now I must wish you a more peaceful good night.”
“Good night, Doctor. And don’t dream about strange figures in fancy dress.”
He left, and I went back to bed, absolutely exhausted. I felt like a shipwreck victim finally washed up on the obligatory desert island.
But I couldn’t sleep. Too tired even to think, I lay in a sort of comatose restlessness, if there is such a thing, for what seemed hours on end.
Something was happening. Something was definitely happening. The Parcae were spinning their threads. The fate of the House was alive and active in one of the rooms; a serious crisis in the history of the Pendragons was about to unfold.
And there stood — or rather lay — I, János Bátky from Budapest, with my endless premonitions and fears, helpless, not knowing a thing, confused and defenceless, at the very heart of the plot.
Suddenly I heard such an extraordinary noise I virtually flew out of bed and rushed to the window.
Maloney had not lied. Outside the window, with halberd and torch, a horseman in black galloped away into the darkness.
Next morning the sun shone so benignly on the fabled green lawn of the park that I thanked God once more that I was in Britain. The sun rarely shines in these islands, but when it does the effect is so wonderful it is as if it were smiling down on a new-created world.
I was still shaving when Osborne entered my room. After the dismal night I had passed his appearance was almost as refreshing as the sunshine itself. His whole being radiated that special quality of youth that is the greatest treasure of these islands, and unique to them. Surely nothing ill can dwell in a house where a young man like that can feel so contented.
“Hello, Doctor. I trust you had a good night. The saying is, whatever you dream about on your first night here will come true.”
“Well, as far as that’s concerned, I had a most interesting night. I’m not even sure what was dream and what was reality. I’m glad of the chance to speak to you about it in private. I tell you, some very strange things took place.”
“Strange things? We’ve had none of those here in two hundred years, unfortunately. I can’t speak for the time before that, especially when we were still up in Pendragon. Llanvygan is the most petty bourgeois place in the whole United Kingdom.”
“My notions of the petty bourgeois are somewhat different.”
“Well, you’d better tell me about your little adventures, then.”
“Where shall I start? First of all, didn’t you feel the Earl received us, how shall I say, rather coolly?”
“Oh no, not at all. In England, as you know, it’s a point of principle that a guest should be received with the least possible fuss, to make him feel at home. But perhaps my uncle did overdo it slightly.”
He was deep in thought.
“But you are right, up to a point,” he continued. “My uncle practically never invites anyone, and you must have made a great impression on him to be asked. Cynthia and I were delighted when he told us — we hoped he might be abandoning his habitual reclusiveness — and we were surprised that he wasn’t more pleased to see you.”
“Could you suggest a reason for it?”
“Of course. He is completely — as it used to be called — of a melancholic humour. At times he is immensely benign, the kindest man on earth. Then he draws back into his shell. There’ve been times when the three of us have been here and he hasn’t spoken to us once in six weeks, and he certainly wasn’t angry with us. He locks himself away in his rooms. We aren’t allowed in there. The whole of the second floor is his.”
“And what does he do up there, during those times?”
“I believe he works on his special animals. My uncle is a sort of amateur zoologist. But he never talks about it. He does sometimes go out for a stroll, but he never speaks to anyone; in fact I don’t think he even recognises people. And you’re not allowed to speak to him. On one occasion, you know, after the episode when he is said to have revived the Earl of Warwick, he chased a journalist up a tree because he asked for an interview. It seems yesterday was another of his bad days. But you mustn’t take it amiss. You must make yourself at home here, as much as you possibly can.”
“Thank you. But what would you say if a giant in fancy dress patrolled outside your bedroom door at night?”
Osborne roared with laughter.
“My dear man, you are far too sensitive. At night all Llanvygan servants are giants in fancy dress. An ancient ruling requires the Earl of Gwynedd to maintain thirty night-watchmen, complete with halberds, wherever he resides. Even their garments are prescribed. There’s nothing unusual in that. Britain is full of these old medieval statutes. Anyway, thirty men with halberds are a great deal more practical than the knights in armour Lord Whatsisname has to keep permanently at the ready. Or the trumpeter who has to play non-stop whenever the king hunts in the vicinity of some peer or other. Not to mention the fistful of snow one Scottish lord has to supply to the court every year. Does that reassure you?”
“Not completely. But while we’re on the subject, I’ll tell you what else has been going on.”
“What, more horrors? I begin to envy you, Doctor. You foreigners have all the luck. I’ve lived here for three years and not one table has danced the tango in my honour.”
“Please, you must take me seriously. The cartridges were removed from my revolver. A packet Maloney entrusted to me has vanished from my suitcase. At night, a horseman stands outside the house with a flaming torch. Is that what usually happens here?”
Osborne was again deep in thought, and did not reply until urged to do so. Then, very quietly and with a look of self-importance on his face, he said:
“Tell me, Doctor, do they teach Geography in Hungary?”