And afterward, the dark : seven tales by Copper Basil

Author:Copper, Basil
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Supernatural
Publisher: Sauk City, Wis. : Arkham House
Published: 1977-10-13T04:00:00+00:00

Archives of the Dead

Robert Trumble arrived at Linnet Ridge as a thin, persistent rain was beginning to fall. The house was in a remote part of Surrey and the sombre drive up through avenues of pines and fir had not prepared him for the sight of the building itself; painted white, standing foursquare to the bracing winds of the uplands, it did not seem to Trumble to typify the reputation of Dr. Ramon Fabri as one of the foremost authorities on the occult.

And yet why should it? Trumble smiled wryly to himself. Surprising how one's mind still moved on conventional lines in some respects. He still found it difficult to conceal his bitterness at some facets of the world as he found it; a minor poet of some brilliance, he had somehow failed to live up to his early promise. As is the way with poets, the public had omitted to buy his works in any great numbers, the editions had passed out of print, and Trumble had been reduced to tutoring and hack work over the past years in order to make a living.

This was why Dr. Fabri's Personal advertisement in The Times had seemed so attractive; a secretaryship, though not really the sort of thing to which a minor poet aspired, would at least see him financially stable until he should set forth again on some other literary adventure. From what he had gathered at a London interview with Dr. Fabri his duties would not be too onerous; furthermore, the salary was generous in proportion to Trumble's slender secretarial experience; he would live in and live well, judging by Dr. Fabri's reputation as a gourmet; and the post would leave him time for his literary endeavours. He had closed at once and, three days later, had driven down in his old, second-hand two-seater.

As always, the hood had leaked all the way, though the rain had held off its main attack until he was past Reigate; from then on its steady encroachment had made driving a misery and Trum-ble saw with relief the lodge gates of his destination compose themselves before the thin beams of his headlights in the filmy April dusk.

His tyres crunched over gravel as he drove up a well-kept drive between smooth lawns and on to the impressive Georgian facade of Dr. Fabri's residence. He carried up his two shabby suitcases between the gleaming white splendour of the pillared entrance porch and saw light shining through the circular windows that flanked the pale yellow front door. Before he could set down his cases to ring the bell, a tall, lean figure blocked out the light that spilled from the open entry.

The man was some sort of general handyman, Trumble judged by his striped waistcoat and the green baize apron he wore round his waist like a domestic servant in a faded prewar comedy. The man had razor-sharp features with yellow skin stretched over a sharply etched skull; his bald head echoed his face in the lamplight as he stooped to pick up Trumble's bags.

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