Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [121]
There was a faint creaking, an even fainter, intermittent popping sound. A low voice was moaning words too faint to distinguish. Lafayette felt a distinct chill creep up his backbone. Early memories of Hansel and Gretel and the witch's cottage rose to vivid clarity.
"Nonsense," he told himself sternly. "There's no such thing as a witch. There's nobody in there but this Lorenzo operator, and poor Lady Andragorre, probably tied hand and foot, scared to death, hoping against hope that someone will come along and rescue her, poor kid. So why am I standing around waiting? Why don't I kick the door down and drag this Lorenzo out by the scruff of the neck, and . . ."
The popping sound rose to a frantic crescendo and ceased abruptly. There was a soft whoosh!, a faint clank of metal. The creaking resumed, accompanied now by a stealthy crunching, as of a meat grinder crushing small bones.
"Maybe he's torturing her, the monster!" Lafayette took three steps back, braced himself, and hurled himself at the door. It flew wide at the impact, and he skidded to the center of a cozy room where a fire glowed on a grate, casting a rosy light on an elderly woman seated in a rocker on a hooked rug, a cat in her lap and a blue china bowl at her elbow.
"Why, Lorenzo, welcome back," she said in tones of mild surprise. She held out the bowl. "Have some popcorn."
Sitting by the fire with a bowl of crisp, lightly buttered and salted kernels on one knee and a cup of thick cocoa on the other, Lafayette attempted to bring his reeling thoughts to order. His hostess was stitching away at a quilt she had exhumed from a chest under the window, chattering in a scratchy monotone. He couldn't seem to follow just what it was she was saying—something about a little cuckoo fluttering from flower to flower and settling down in a big soft blossom to snooze . . .
Lafayette came awake with a start as his chin bumped his chest.
"Why, you're sleepy, poor lad. And no wonder, the hours you've been keeping. Oh, I almost forgot: your friends were here." She gave him a sharp sideways smile.
"Friends?" Lafayette yawned. How long had it been since he had slept? A week? Or only three days . . . or . . . was it possible it was only last night, curled up in the big bed with the silken sheets . . .
" . . . said not to bother telling you, they wanted to surprise you. But I thought you'd rather know." Her tone had a sharp edge, penetrating his drowsiness.
Lafayette forced his mind to focus on what the old lady was saying. Her voice seemed vaguely familiar. Had he met her before? Or . . .
"Rather know, ah, what?" He forced his thoughts back to the conversation.
"About them coming back."
"Er, who?"
"The nice gentlemen with the lovely horses."
Suddenly Lafayette was wide awake. "When were they here?"
"Why, you just missed them, Lorenzo—by about thirty minutes." Dim old eyes bored into him through thick glasses. Or were they dim and old? On second look, they were remarkably sharp. Where, Lafayette wondered, had he seen that gimlet gaze before? . . .
"Ma'am—you've been very kind, but I really must rush. And I think you ought to know: I'm not Lorenzo."
"Not Lorenzo? Whatever do you mean?" She peered over her lenses at him.
"I came here looking for a fellow named Lorenzo, or possibly Lothario or Lancelot. When you welcomed me so nicely, and offered me food and warmth, I, well—I was starving and freezing and I simply took advantage of your kindness. But now I'll be going—"
"Why, I wouldn't hear of it! A body could catch his death on a night like this—"
"I'm not sure you understand," Lafayette protested, sidling toward the door. "I'm a total stranger. I just wandered in here, and—"
"But surely you're the same charming young man who rented the spare bedroom?" The old lady peered nearsightedly at him.
Lafayette shook his head. "Afraid not. I came here looking for the Lady Andragorre—"
"Why, you're a friend of my niece! How delightful! Why didn't you tell me! Now you really must give up this silly idea of going back out in that icy wind. Oh, by the