Borrower of the Night - Elizabeth Peters [83]
‘Both. He hypnotized Irma with some crazy idea that she might have ancestral memories he could tap. Until the great séance he didn’t realize that what he was doing could hurt the wench.’
The gun barrel dropped, casually, to indicate the girl’s motionless form, and my heart skipped a beat.
‘Why don’t you shoot her, if that’s what you’re going to do?’ Tony said, between his teeth. ‘Get it over with.’
‘No bullet holes in Irma. That would spoil the illusion.’
Tony was rapidly losing his calm. He glanced at me. Then, following his eyes, I finally realized what he was up to. He was trying not to look at the square opening of the stairwell, which was now, thanks to his manoeuver, out of George’s direct line of vision. I didn’t share his optimism. Blankenhagen might come, but I doubted it. The man wasn’t superhuman.
‘So Schmidt hypnotized Irma,’ I said. ‘He was the one who prompted her with all that stuff about fires and possession.’
‘He had help. The old lady has been workmg on the kid for years.’
‘She would,’ Tony muttered. ‘Just for fun.’
‘It came in handy, after Schmidt appeared at the Schloss with his questions about the shrine. He didn’t realize Irma was the heiress. He went straight to Elfrida and they started searching. He was no match for the old witch; he did just what she told him to.’
‘How did he find out about the shrine?’ I asked curiously.
‘He read the same book you all found, and reached the same conclusion. When you arrived he got panicky. He wanted the shrine and he was afraid you’d beat him to it. I met him prowling the corridors one night and persuaded him to join forces with me to discourage you. But he didn’t realize how far I was prepared to go. The night we staged the armour episode, I had to use the dagger myself, after I tapped Tony on the head. The sight of blood sent the old fool into a tailspin. I had to keep him from yelling, and in the struggle he passed out. I thought I was going to have an attack myself before I got him out of that armour and into his room, so I could rush down to take my part in the drama.’
‘And the second attack? Staring eyes, look of horror?’
‘Baffling, wasn’t it?’ George grinned. ‘I only meant to scare him. He was threatening to confess all.’
‘Then the Gräfin is in with you,’ I said.
‘It’s not fair,’ Tony said wildly. ‘Everybody’s guilty. There’s only supposed to be one criminal. What about Miss Burton?’
‘She is innocent, if that consoles you any. Arrogant, stupid, and innocent.’
‘Nolan, don’t you see you’re being used?’ Tony demanded. ‘That old bitch is in the clear. She’ll end up with the shrine, after you’ve killed Irma, and you’ll end up in the chair, or whatever they use in this country. You’re a stooge, buddy; a lousy cat’s-paw.’
For the first, and last time in his life, he hit George where it hurt. The big white grin disappeared. George took a step forward, almost stumbling ovet Irma, and Tony braced himself. I got ready to jump. Then I saw two things.
One was a hand, whose whitened fingers were curled gruesomely over the edge of the topmost step. The other was Irma’s eyes – wide open.
‘No,’ I said hysterically. ‘No, don’t! Don’t kill us!’ I threw myself onto my knees, yelped as the gritty stone bit into my lacerated skin, and wriggled gracefully forwards until my body was between George and the stairwell.
It was no use. George’s gun stayed smack on Tony’s liver, and Blankenhagen followed his hand out onto the roof.
He looked like death walking – tattered, bloody, smeared with dust and cobwebs. He was an automaton, moving by pure will. It was so awful it was fascinating; I half expected to see him walk stiff-legged into a hail of bullets, like the monster out of Frankenstein.
Everybody has his limits, though, and Blankenhagen reached his. He fell to his knees, his eyes crossed and his mouth half open.
‘What do I have to do, use a meat cleaver?’ George demanded irritably. ‘All right; you’ll be out of your misery in just a few seconds.’
I didn’t see exactly what happened. My eyes, like those