Where the Summer Ends - By Karl Edward Wagner Page 0,108
Quickly, he paid the driver and hurried up the walk to Lisette’s flat. Only a few lights were on, and he rang the bell urgently—a helpless sense of foreboding making his movements clumsy.
“Just one moment, sir!”
Dr Magnus jerked about at the voice. Two men in plain clothes approached him briskly from the pavement.
“Stand easy! We’re police.”
“Is something the matter, officers?” Obviously, something was.
“Might we ask what your business here is, sir?”
“Certainly. I’m a friend of Miss Borland and Miss Seyrig. I haven’t been able to reach them by phone, and as I have some rather urgent matters to discuss with Miss Seyrig, I thought perhaps I might try reaching her here at her flat.” He realized he was far too nervous.
“Might we see some identification, sir?”
“Is there anything wrong, officers?” Magnus repeated, producing his wallet.
“Dr Ingmar Magnus.” The taller of the pair regarded him quizzically. “I take it you don’t keep up with the news, Dr Magnus.”
“Just what is this about!”
“I’m Inspector Bradley, Dr Magnus, and this is Detective Sergeant Wharton. CID. We’ve been wanting to ask you a few questions, sir, if you’ll just come with us.”
It was totally dark when Lisette awoke from troubled sleep. She stared wide-eyed into the darkness for a moment, wondering where she was. Slowly memory supplanted the vague images of her dream. Switching on a lamp beside her bed, Lisette frowned at her watch. It was close to midnight. She had overslept.
Beth’s Rolls had come for her almost before she had had time to hastily pack her overnight bag. Once at the house in Maida Vale, a maid—wearing a more conventional uniform than those at her last visit—had shown her to a spacious guest room on the top floor. Lisette had taken a sedative pill and gratefully collapsed onto the bed. She’d planned to catch a short nap, then meet her hostess for dinner. Instead she had slept for almost ten solid hours. Beth must be convinced she was a hopeless twit after this.
As so often happens after an overextended nap, Lisette now felt restless. She wished she’d thought to bring a book. The house was completely silent. Surely it was too late to ring for a maid. No doubt Beth had meant to let her sleep through until morning, and by now would have retired herself. Perhaps she should take another pill and go back to sleep herself.
On the other hand, Beth Garrington hardly seemed the type to make it an early night. She might well still be awake, perhaps watching television where the noise wouldn’t disturb her guest. In any event, Lisette didn’t want to go back to sleep just yet.
She climbed out of bed, realizing that she’d only half undressed before falling asleep. Pulling off bra and panties, Lisette slipped into the antique nightdress of ribbons and lace she’d brought along. She hadn’t thought to pack slippers or a robe, but it was a warm night, and the white cotton gown was modest enough for a peek into the hall.
There was a ribbon of light edging the door of the room at the far end of the hall. The rest of the hallway lay in darkness. Lisette stepped quietly from her room. Since Beth hadn’t mentioned other guests, and the servants’ quarters were elsewhere, presumably the light was coming from her hostess’s bedroom and indicated she might still be awake. Lisette decided she really should make the effort to meet her hostess while in a conscious state.
She heard a faint sound of music as she tiptoed down the hallway. The door to the room was ajar, and the music came from within. She was in luck; Beth must still be up. At the doorway she knocked softly.
“Beth? Are you awake? It’s Lisette.”
There was no answer, but the door swung open at her touch.
Lisette started to call out again, but her voice froze in her throat. She recognized the tune she heard, and she knew this room. When she entered the bedroom, she could no more alter her actions than she could control the course of her dreams.
It was a large bedroom, entirely furnished in the mode of the late Victorian period. The windows were curtained, and the room’s only light came from a candle upon a night table beside the huge four-poster bed. An antique gold pocket watch lay upon the night table also, and the watch was chiming an old music-box tune.
Lisette crossed the room, praying that this was no more than another vivid recurrence of her nightmare. She