Borrower of the Night - Elizabeth Peters [85]
I fell flat on my face, but they wouldn’t let me pass out; dozens of enthusiastic arms bore me to a couch and another arm poured the dregs of a glass of beer down my throat. I lapped it up like a dog, and somebody brought a full glass, and somebody else held my head . . . I have some unpleasant memories about my sojourn at the Schloss, but the heavenly coldness of that beer trickling down my dusty gullet compensated for all of them.
I shouldn’t have had it, though; on an empty stomach it was almost disastrous. After a while I found myself lying flat on the couch with my head floating up somewhere near the ceiling and a handsome tanned boy bending over me with a glass of brandy.
‘Oy,’ I said, pushing it away. ‘That I don’t need. Will you please – ’
‘I am a student of medicine,’ said the boy grandly. ‘Rest quietly, Fräulein, all has been done as you directed. But what in God’s name has happened?’
‘Look at my face,’ I said hysterically. ‘I know I’m drunk, but I can’t help looking like this, I didn’t do it on purpose; and I don’t know why all you men can’t stop looking at my – ’
He had been patting me – absentmindedly, I’m sure. He got quite red and leaped to his feet.
‘I apologize! No disrespect was intended – ’
‘I know,’ I said sadly.
I had not forgotten the Gräfin, but I was no longer worried about her; with all those husky witnesses rushing around, it was unlikely that she could do any more damage. She must have heard all the activity and come down to see what was going on. When I saw her standing in the doorway, I struggled to a sitting position.
She dismissed the student with an autocratic wave of her hand. Her faint smile, as she studied my unkempt person, told me more clearly than any mirror how terrible I must look. It stung me into relative coherence.
‘Grin all you want,’ I said. ‘You still lose. All is known.’
Her smile didn’t change.
‘Poor girl, you are delirious after all you have suffered. But if you will insist on prying into places where you have no right to be – ’
‘It won’t work,’ I said. ‘George is dead.’
That did it. Her smile vanished.
‘I’m going to let you go,’ I said. ‘I hate to do it, but without George I’m not sure how much we can prove. In your position, though, I wouldn’t risk it.’
‘You would turn an old woman from her home?’
‘You can go live with Miss Burton. I’ll bet she’s loaded; you wouldn’t cultivate her for her gracious personality. And you probably have plenty stashed away. You’ve been milking this place of its saleable antiques for years.’
She stood there looking at me with the Medusa stare that had paralyzed so many luckless victims. It didn’t affect me. She had no power, except over weak minds like Irma’s and Miss Burton’s.
‘The police will be here any minute,’ I said.
She left.
The local constabulary of Rothenburg, accustomed to drunken brawls and traffic jams, were out of their depth at the Schloss. The case was closed. There was nothing for them to do but gather up the wounded. However, they were understandably confounded by the train of events. Finally one of them settled the matter.
‘Mad,’ he said, tapping his forehead. ‘The man was mad, no doubt.’
Everyone agreed. Then, at long last, they led me to my room, and with a groan of voluptuous satisfaction I fell full length on the bed, dirty and half naked as I was, and let my poor old eyes close.
It was late the following afternoon when we all assembled in my room for the denouement. I had slept till noon. Then I washed. That took quite a while. I spent the rest of the time at the hospital with Schmidt, who was coming along nicely. We had a fascinating talk. I was giddy with the implications when I joined the others.
Tony and Blankenhagen were still acting like wounded heroes. I thought Tony had overdone the bandages just a bit, but the effect was impressive.
Irma looked beautiful. She hadn’t dug through forty feet of dirt or fallen down a shaft or crawled through a couple of miles of brambles. She had simply rested peacefully for a few hours. She was safe, rich, beautiful,