Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror - Chris Priestley [38]
The enormous shadow I cast seemed to be racing me, trying to overtake me as I sped along, and a scuttling sound - which may have been Franz, though I never did look round to see - echoed around the corridor, as if something were running up and down the walls. I burst rather dramatically back into my uncle's study, panting with relief.
'Is everything all right?' asked Uncle Montague.
'Yes, Uncle,.' I said. 'Of course. That is, there did seem to be someone trying the door of the lavatory.'
'Was there now?' said my uncle, staring off at the study door and frowning. 'Did you see anyone, Edgar?'
'No, sir,.' I said. 'I expect it was Franz.'
Uncle Montague nodded.
'It could have been.'
'After all, sir,.' I added, 'you said we were alone in the house.'
'Did I?' Uncle Montague murmured.
I put the lamp on the small table by the door and was about to join my uncle by the fire when I noticed something I had not seen before: a framed pen and ink drawing of some foreign landscape.
It was the kind of drawing that pulls you in to look at it and my uncle joined me in my examination of its skilful cross-hatching.
'Ah,.' said my uncle. 'That is an Arthur Weybridge.'
The name meant nothing to me, but I raised my eyebrows and tried to look impressed.
'Where is it a picture of?' I asked.
'A small village in south-eastern Turkey. Have you been to Turkey, Edgar?'
'No, Uncle,.' I said. I had been nowhere but to school and back, and though my uncle should have known this by now, I rather liked the way he always asked.
'Well, you must,.' he said. 'You really must. Does your father have no interest in travel?'
'He likes to go fishing in Scotland,.' I said after a moment's thought. 'But he never takes me. He says I would get bored.'
'And he is probably correct,.' said Uncle Montague with a half-smile.
'Do you still travel, sir?' I asked.
Uncle Montague shook his head.
'No, Edgar,.' he said. 'I used to, once upon a time.
But now I must stay here.'
It seemed an odd thing to say - that he must stay in that house. My uncle had always struck me as a man of some means and I could think of nothing that should prevent his leaving. But then I wondered if he was referring to a medical condition I was unaware of. It might certainly explain much of his curious behaviour. I began to wonder if it had been he who had rattled the lavatory door handle.
'Are you quite well, Uncle?' I asked.
To my enormous surprise, after an initial silence he burst into a sustained bout of laughter. I could not think why what I had said caused my uncle such unrestrained amusement and it only confirmed my suspicion that his mind was troubled.
'You think me deranged, do you not, Edgar?' he said, taking me by surprise by his apparent access to my thoughts.
'No, Uncle,.' I said a little unconvincingly. 'You are tired perhaps?'
Uncle Montague grimaced.
'Yes, Edgar,.' he said almost under his breath. 'I am very tired indeed.'
'Should I go and fetch Franz?' I suggested, moving towards the door.
'No!' said Uncle Montague forcefully, grabbing my arm. 'Franz does not like . . . visitors.' He let go of my arm and I was lost as to what I should do for the best. Uncle Montague looked at me and sighed.
'My apologies, Edgar,.' he said with a weak smile. 'I did not mean to startle you. Perhaps if we sat awhile by the fire?'
'Of course, Uncle,.' I said, and we both walked to our respective chairs.
We sat there in silence, the fire gasping and hissing, the clock ticking. My uncle began to drum the ends of his long fingers together rhythmically and I stifled a yawn.
'Since we are here, Edgar,.' he said suddenly, making me jump, 'I could tell you about the drawing.'
'The drawing on the wall? Very well, Uncle,.' I said. 'If it would not exhaust you.'
Uncle Montague sank back into the shadows.
'No, Edgar,.' he said. 'Thank