The Vampire Affair - McDaniel David (читать книги без TXT) 📗

He wondered about this, and commented on it to Illya, who just nodded, and kept smiling.

Napoleon scowled at him. "You're looking inscrutable again," he said. "Will you tell me your little surprise if I ignore you long enough?"

"It won't be necessary," said Illya. "I don't really know anything yet. But when we get back to the village I expect to be very busy in Gheorghe's kitchen for some time."

"Oh, great," said Napoleon. "I've always wanted to try barbecued wolf meat."

Illya shook his head. "Not barbecued wolf, Napoleon. I have the feeling it will be a roasted bird this time—almost certainly a cooked goose."

Section IV: "The Vampire Has Been Dead Many Times...."

Chapter 13: "I Smell A Rat—A Rat with Feathers."

The first white flakes of snow began to filter down through the clouds shortly before they arrived in the village at three-thirty in the morning. They left the car in its usual berth behind the City Hall, but Illya insisted the wolf be brought back to the inn with them. So he and Napoleon slung it between them and managed to manhandle the unwieldy corpse the couple hundred yards along the dirt street, on which the mud was already lightly frozen.

Hammering on the door of the darkened inn eventually aroused a dim light in the back, and Gheorghe appeared—round, night-capped, and blinking at them over a candle flame. He scarcely shrank back from the body of the wolf, and said, "You have had luck in the hunt, I see. Will you wish him dressed?"

"No," said Illya. "I will take care of him myself, personally, in the morning. Are Hilda and Zoltan back yet?"

"Da, domnule. They arrived on foot shortly after midnight. We have been most worried about you. In fact, I would expect the Vlad Zoltan to be waiting up for you."

He was, almost. There was a low light burning beside the bed where Hilda lay sleeping peacefully, and Zoltan sat in a chair across the room, facing the window, with a hunting rifle across his knees and his head on his chest. But he jerked upright as Napoleon and Illya entered the room.

He sprang to his feet and set down the gun, then embraced them with expressions of great relief. "My dear friends! What happened to you? And did you bring the car back? We could not find it. We were so afraid you had been lost forever in the tunnels under the castle, and all for my own foolishness in not directing you correctly."

Then his eye fell on the wolf and his jaw dropped. He looked at it, and then at them. "You are not hurt?"

"No," said Illya. "One finally got close enough for a clear shot. The fact that I had cut a cross on my bullet may or may not have helped."

"Oh!" said Zoltan, remembering something. "Most important! When we were lost in the tunnels, we found our way out by a passage I had not known, by following some other chalk marks."

"Blue or white?" asked Napoleon.

"Yellow," said Zoltan, "and recently made. But they came to what appeared to be a blank wall, until I saw a lever mounted at the side of the passage. It revolved a false rock, and we found ourselves at the back of the cave."

Napoleon's eyebrows shot up in sudden speculation. Zoltan hurried on: "Hilda recognized the cave as the one which Illya had said you saw my ancestor in. And she was sure you would be most interested to know this. It suddenly appears possible that we have all been the victims of a monstrous hoax."

"Yes," said Illya, prodding the dead wolf with his toe. "I will know more in the morning. But remember, at least one person was the victim of a very real murder, whatever the method and motivation.

"As for now, I think we can all go to bed. Be sure the windows are locked and bolted, but I no longer think the crucifixes and wolfsbane will be either necessary or effective. And now we return to our room. Tomorrow will be a busy, busy day, and the hour is very late."

Napoleon followed his cue, and dragging the wolf behind them by its hind legs they went out and pulled the door closed behind them.

* * *

When Napoleon woke up that afternoon, Illya was gone. So was the body of the wolf, which had spent the night on the couch. He looked around the room, stretched, yawned, then got up and dressed.

Downstairs he found Hilda sitting in the dining room with an upset Gheorghe and several servants. She jumped up when she saw Napoleon and ran over to him.

"Oh, Napoleon, I thought you were going to sleep all day! Zoltan's in the kitchen with Illya, and they said no one else was to come in except you when you got up if you ever did."

Gheorghe was right behind her. "Domn Solo, they have taken over my kitchen, and I have other guests to feed. They took that accursed wolf in with them, and all I have heard for an hour has been soft voices. I asked them through the door what it is they are doing in my kitchen, and the Vlad Drakula says not to worry, it is very important, and they will clean it up when they are through." He looked up at Napoleon anxiously. "When you go in, ask them please to be careful with my kitchen."

Napoleon looked at the kitchen door with a growing interest. He patted Gheorghe on the shoulder and said, "I certainly will. In fact, if I can, I'll be back out in a few minutes to set your mind at ease."

He tapped at the door and called Illya's name, but it was Zoltan who slipped back the latch and let him in.

Illya was standing over the large table near the window, rows of butcher knives, paring knives, tongs and other implements beside him and an incredible mess in front of him. He wore a chef's apron to protect his clothes, and his sleeves were rolled up above his biceps. His arms were bloody up to the elbows. He looked up as Napoleon hesitantly approached the table.

"Welcome to my operating room," he said. "I've been performing a little post-mortem on our victim of last night."

Napoleon looked at the gory mess on the table and felt just a little ill. Illya noticed and smiled. "Sorry about the mess, Napoleon. But remember, you look even worse than that inside."

"It should stay inside where it belongs. All right, Doctor Crippen, what knowledge have you added to the field of medical science today?"

"Medical science has not benefited from this investigation, but criminology may have been advanced to some extent." He waved his hand over a number of what were to Napoleon undistinguishable lumps of meat, and picked one up.

"Notice the leg muscles," he said seriously. He prodded the meat with a short skewer, and separated some of the fibers. "See that?"

Napoleon saw only raw meat with a few streaks and lumps of yellow in it, and said so.

"Exactly. The yellow is fat. Fat? In a wild wolf? And especially in the leg muscles?" Illya shook his head, put down the leg, and picked up something else. "The stomach," he said. "Most interesting." With bare fingers he pulled apart an incision and pointed to a horrid-looking mass. "Remains of the last meal."

Napoleon felt even more ill, and made an inarticulate comment to that effect. "Yeuchh," he said.

"Look," Illya insisted. "Cereal grains. A wolf with cereal grains in its stomach?"

Napoleon turned away and stared determinedly out the window at a bare tree. "It's been a hard winter."

"Don't faint yet, Napoleon," said Illya. "You haven't seen my prize exhibit."

He took a deep breath and looked around again. The Russian was holding a thing that Napoleon finally recognized, though it was covered with blood and somewhat cut up. It was white and convoluted, and filled Illya's hand as he held it out.