The Madman's Room by Paul Halter

Author:Paul Halter [Halter, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-10T22:00:00+00:00

17

That same Saturday at around eleven o’clock, Bessie and Patrick were still awake. The Blounts’ house was shuddering under the assault of the wind and a fire was roaring in the lounge. Patrick was savouring a whisky, trying to look interested in what his fiancé was saying. After a number of circumlocutions, she had succeeded in steering the conversation to a subject which was obviously still troubling her: Dr. Mike Matthews. At great length he learnt that behind the elegant exterior and warm smile lurked a completely different person and that, beneath the veneer of civility, was an insufferably complacent individual, a frightful egoist full of good counsel which cost him nothing, an individual as vain as a peacock, a quibbler for detail, and who knew what other target of opprobrium.

Her animosity towards her ex-fiancé seemed to Patrick to have clouded her judgment, but having no desire to pick a fight, he rapidly lost interest in the subject.

‘… and it won’t be long before Sarah finds that out for herself, if she hasn’t already.’

Patrick nodded, yawned discreetly and sneaked a glance at his watch, which showed half past eleven. He pricked up his ears suddenly and looked at Bessie.

‘Didn’t you hear anything?’

‘Yes. I’ll take a look.’ She went to the window and pulled back the curtains. ‘There’s someone… but who?… Francis and Paula!’ Exchanging an enquiring glance with her fiancé, she went to the door.

While quickly serving himself another whisky, Patrick told himself that such a late and unexpected visit could only be bringing bad news. He was not mistaken.

The pale faces of their two visitors showed anxiety and confusion. After Bessie had taken their coats and ushered them to the warmth of the fireside, Francis began to speak:

‘We fear the worst.’

He looked insistently at Patrick whilst he lit a cigarette and continued:

‘It’s about Brian.’

Patrick, after hearing the alarming words and looking at Paula and her husband in turn, muttered:

‘Don’t tell me he’s made another prophecy?’

Paula nodded and Francis continued:

‘A prophecy of misfortune and maybe even… death.’

For long seconds the only sound was the howling of the wind.

Patrick, who couldn’t stop looking at Paula’s anguished eyes, trembled at the thought that came into his head.

‘Against… her?’ he asked hesitantly, pointing a trembling finger at Paula.

‘No, against Sarah,’ replied Francis tersely. ‘Here’s what he said verbatim less than half an hour ago: “There’s misfortune in store for you, Sarah, great misfortune … You are in danger.” After that he ran a limp hand across his brow and continued in a fading voice, like a litany: “A misfortune, a great misfortune, a truly great misfortune.”’

‘Patrick,’ intervened Paula, ‘you’ve got to help us. You have to do something.’

‘That’s why we’ve come here to alert you,’ declared Francis, ‘not simply as a friend but above all as a detective.’

Patrick chewed his lip pensively. He studied his visitors, then asked them under what circumstances Brian had made his prediction.

‘We started to pay bridge shortly before eight o’clock,’ said Paula. ‘I say “we,” although I wasn’t playing, merely watching, because… well, that doesn’t really matter.

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