Odor of Violets by Odor of Violets (retail) (epub)

Author:Odor of Violets (retail) (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epub3
Publisher: Penzler Publishers

CHAPTER XV

DARKNESS AND blackness.

The blackness of the deepest mine, the lack of light which drives weak men mad in dungeons, was the world of Duncan Maclain.

There was no light in Norma’s room; no light in the hall; no light in the great house built on a Connecticut hill. Neither were there night and day—just time, and sound, and feeling, and sometimes taste and smell.

There were trust in a dog, footsteps to count, voices to remember, and the tingling feel of fabrics when sensitive fingers brushed against a wall.

Twenty paces.

Twenty yards.

Sixty feet.

“Left here, Schnucke!”

You remembered it the next time. If you forgot it, then Schnucke warned you—or, by yourself, you risked barked shins and a nasty tumble. You had to remember. It wasn’t nice when a blind man took a fall.

Paces and faces and talks and walks and what was said in Norma’s room—you had to remember it all. The faces you built by the voice, of course, because you couldn’t see. The talks were always clear: —

“I’d better send for Pierce, Captain Maclain. The servants’ quarters are upstairs in the other wing. The door leading in there is the last to the left at the end of the hall.”

“I can find it, Mrs. Tredwill, thank you. I prefer to go alone. I went upstairs with the state policeman this afternoon.”

“Bella’s room is the second to the right at the top of the service stairs.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Tredwill. My dog can see. If I need something I can call.”

The talks were always clear, like that one with Colonel Gray: “The last war blinded you, Maclain—this one may end your career!”

God, how careful you had to be—“I’m sorry, Mr. Tredwill. I’m afraid your plans all smell of gasoline.”

Twenty paces.

Twenty yards.

And three times twenty is sixty feet.

“Left here, Schnucke!

“Good girl, you’re right again! This is the door to the servants’ wing.”

Through it and close it and listen.

“Nobody here, eh, Schnucke?”

Thirty-two paces and then the stairs.

Darkness. Blackness. Silence. The carpet is thick. The kitchen’s below. See that rattle of dishes. See that smell of cooking lingering from the day.

Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two.

Five steps up and a landing.

Turn right.

Seven steps up and a landing.

Turn right.

Ten steps up and you’re there. Or was it nine?

Watch your step at the top, Maclain! Next time you’ll remember—twenty-one, or twenty-two. It’s careless to confuse them with those thirty-two steps in the hall.

“Thank you, Schnucke. It’s twenty-one, not twenty-two!”

Darkness. Blackness. Silence. The carpet is thick. Bella sleeps in the second room to the right at the top of the stairs.

One. Two. Three.

That’s the front door, and it’s open. Feel that change in the air?

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Right here, Schnucke. Bella’s door is open. The light would shine in. If she’s sleeping, it must be dark here in the hall. I’ll call her softly.

“Bella!

“Steady, Schnucke, and forward! What are you trembling for?”

One step onward and listen.

“Schnucke, my ears are better than yours. Quit your whining and balking. I’ll call her again.

“Bella!”

Darkness and blackness and silence and a smell of violet perfume.

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