Read Online The Cthulhu Encryption by Brian Stableford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian Stableford
Ads: Link
are believable, sketches of faces have emerged, or even words in Latin, French or German.”
“But forty-nine tiny symbols, each one intricately designed?” I queried. “That’s surely impossible, for any mesmerist.”
He made no comment on my judgment of possibility. “If what the woman’s other voice said was a diabolical equivalent of speaking in tongues,” he observed, soberly, “I have no wish to meet the unholy spirit that inspired it. That one is certainly no paraclete.”
The term paraclete , I knew, likened the holy spirit to a comforter. “Agreed,” I said, in my turn.
He chewed his lip, as if screwing up his courage. “In August,” he said, “when Dupin asked me to look after you, it really was a case of heatstroke-induced delirium, was it not? You were not really possessed by some vampiric demon, as Saint-German seemed to believe?”
“I wish I could be sure,” I told him, not dishonestly.
He turned his head to look at the wall-clock, which was only a few minutes short of chiming four. “I have to go now,” he said, abruptly. “Apologize to Dupin for me, and tell him that I’ll return as soon as I can—but I have other obligations. I’m willing to entrance the woman for him when I can, and I’ll certainly return this evening, when Leuret comes—if only to hear Dupin’s explanation of his conduct—but for now….”
“I understand, Doctor,” I assured him, and fetched his coat, hat and stick, assuming that Bihan was probably busy.
“It won’t have done any good, you know,” he said, as we parted, “to swear Leuret to secrecy. He won’t say a word, of course—but the orderlies on the ward saw and heard everything. Their gossip will have been repeated all over Paris by this time tomorrow…and it’s bound to reach the ears of exactly the people you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“I can handle Saint-Germain, if he comes snooping,” I assured him.
“I have a suspicion that you might have more than the mystics and would-be magicians of the Harmonic Philosophical Society to deal with this time,” was his parting shot.
I had the same suspicion, but I put a brave face on as I bid him au revoir .
When I returned to the smoking-room, Dupin was there—without the gorgon, thankfully. I explained Chapelain’s absence. He frowned, but made no complaint.
“I’m truly sorry about this imposition, my friend,” he said, “but it’s a matter of dire necessity.”
“So I assumed,” I said. “Would you care to tell me why?”
“Of course—but can it possibly wait until this evening, when Leuret comes? That will save me unnecessary repetition—and in any case, I want to go up and sit with her in case she wakes up. If she does, before Chapelain returns, I shall try to interrogate her myself…always provided that she wakes into her dream of the magical underworld rather than…well, rather than whatever else is lurking in the depths of her unconscious mind. I fear that the lady has been sorely abused, perhaps long before she became a whore. There’s mention of such things in von Junzt’s Unaussprechlichen Kulten , but so much of that text is based on traveler’s tales that I never believed them. I must find out, if I can, before she dies…and I must take what advantage I can of the fact that she has appointed me her Tristan.”
“You intend to play this farce to the end, then, and capitalize on the fact that the poor woman has mistaken you for someone else, in the hope that she might let you in on her secrets?”
“She has not mistaken me for someone else,” Dupin pointed out. “Her Tristan of Léonais is a figment of her dream; she has merely invited me to take a part in her fantasy.”
That triggered a belated realization. “ That ’s why your concierge seemed to recognize the name Leonys,” I said. “Like Chapelain, she took it for an anglicized pronunciation of Léonais—and she’s a Breton, like her cousin.”
“English folklore usually refers to
“But forty-nine tiny symbols, each one intricately designed?” I queried. “That’s surely impossible, for any mesmerist.”
He made no comment on my judgment of possibility. “If what the woman’s other voice said was a diabolical equivalent of speaking in tongues,” he observed, soberly, “I have no wish to meet the unholy spirit that inspired it. That one is certainly no paraclete.”
The term paraclete , I knew, likened the holy spirit to a comforter. “Agreed,” I said, in my turn.
He chewed his lip, as if screwing up his courage. “In August,” he said, “when Dupin asked me to look after you, it really was a case of heatstroke-induced delirium, was it not? You were not really possessed by some vampiric demon, as Saint-German seemed to believe?”
“I wish I could be sure,” I told him, not dishonestly.
He turned his head to look at the wall-clock, which was only a few minutes short of chiming four. “I have to go now,” he said, abruptly. “Apologize to Dupin for me, and tell him that I’ll return as soon as I can—but I have other obligations. I’m willing to entrance the woman for him when I can, and I’ll certainly return this evening, when Leuret comes—if only to hear Dupin’s explanation of his conduct—but for now….”
“I understand, Doctor,” I assured him, and fetched his coat, hat and stick, assuming that Bihan was probably busy.
“It won’t have done any good, you know,” he said, as we parted, “to swear Leuret to secrecy. He won’t say a word, of course—but the orderlies on the ward saw and heard everything. Their gossip will have been repeated all over Paris by this time tomorrow…and it’s bound to reach the ears of exactly the people you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“I can handle Saint-Germain, if he comes snooping,” I assured him.
“I have a suspicion that you might have more than the mystics and would-be magicians of the Harmonic Philosophical Society to deal with this time,” was his parting shot.
I had the same suspicion, but I put a brave face on as I bid him au revoir .
When I returned to the smoking-room, Dupin was there—without the gorgon, thankfully. I explained Chapelain’s absence. He frowned, but made no complaint.
“I’m truly sorry about this imposition, my friend,” he said, “but it’s a matter of dire necessity.”
“So I assumed,” I said. “Would you care to tell me why?”
“Of course—but can it possibly wait until this evening, when Leuret comes? That will save me unnecessary repetition—and in any case, I want to go up and sit with her in case she wakes up. If she does, before Chapelain returns, I shall try to interrogate her myself…always provided that she wakes into her dream of the magical underworld rather than…well, rather than whatever else is lurking in the depths of her unconscious mind. I fear that the lady has been sorely abused, perhaps long before she became a whore. There’s mention of such things in von Junzt’s Unaussprechlichen Kulten , but so much of that text is based on traveler’s tales that I never believed them. I must find out, if I can, before she dies…and I must take what advantage I can of the fact that she has appointed me her Tristan.”
“You intend to play this farce to the end, then, and capitalize on the fact that the poor woman has mistaken you for someone else, in the hope that she might let you in on her secrets?”
“She has not mistaken me for someone else,” Dupin pointed out. “Her Tristan of Léonais is a figment of her dream; she has merely invited me to take a part in her fantasy.”
That triggered a belated realization. “ That ’s why your concierge seemed to recognize the name Leonys,” I said. “Like Chapelain, she took it for an anglicized pronunciation of Léonais—and she’s a Breton, like her cousin.”
“English folklore usually refers to
Similar Books
