held in a bone-crushing grip. The big man laughed slightly at his expression, revealing strong yellow teeth. By now the Count had hurried to the colonel’s side. The officer gave Homolky a very smart salute indeed and bowed more deferentially than he had to Coleridge and Menlow.
The former guessed that their host wielded a good deal of power in the locality. The two men conversed together earnestly for a few moments while the rest of the party came up. Coleridge could understand nothing of the interchange, but it was obvious from the police officer’s gestures and the occasional glances of the two men up toward the far trees on the horizon that they were discussing the wolf.
‘The colonel believes the beast to be the one which killed the woodman yesterday,’ explained Menlow, who had been listening closely. ‘It has just badly injured an old man in the village.’
There was a cry of horror from the servants and those Hungarian-speaking people in the group, and some of the former, after asking the Count’s permission, detached themselves from the main party and started off at a clumsy run for Lugos, stumbling and sliding on the icy path in their eagerness to get there.
Coleridge was vaguely aware that the Count’s wife and daughter had joined the edge of the group. Raglan was there too, and he held the girl’s hand tightly as she stood with a white face listening to her father’s questioning of the police chief.
Menlow went on translating at Coleridge’s elbow.
‘Anton cannot understand how he missed the beast,’ he went on in a low voice. ‘He caught up with it at the edge of Lugos, just after it had attacked the old man. His rifle is very accurate. It should have despatched the wolf. But it seemed to know his aiming points and avoided his shots every time.’
Coleridge felt a strange sensation enveloping him. Despite the intense cold he had become oddly warm and had difficulty in focusing his eyes. More of his colleagues were jostling their way through the group now, their questions chopped into disparate segments by the wind. Some of them were panting heavily, and he guessed they had run a good distance from the bridge, mostly uphill all the way.
Coleridge blinked rapidly and had control of himself again. He felt the girl’s eyes on him and recalled once more her strange story of the previous night. He wondered if she were given to hysteria; that and the brooding atmosphere of certain parts of the Castle, which had been growing on him over the past hours, might have been responsible.
But on brief reflection he dismissed the possibility. She had impressed him as being very tough and cool, and from the little contact he had had with her he would not have put her down as being overfanciful. That also left out of account the scratches on the door and the parquet and the beast-hairs that reposed in Menlow’s pocket.
The Count suddenly seemed aware that Coleridge was close beside him.
‘Forgive me, Professor,’ he said curtly. ‘This is a very upsetting matter, as you can imagine.’
‘Do you wish to return to the village?’ Coleridge asked. ‘We can visit the falls some other day.’
Homolky caught the police officer’s eye and shook his head.
‘There is no point. The man is injured; the village doctor is doing the best he can for him, and the beast will be miles away by now.’
He stared grimly up toward the tree-line where the tracks of the wolf could be faintly discerned in the frozen snow.
‘There will be another time,’ he said softly. ‘We will organise a proper hunt if the animal is not shot soon.’
‘Is it the same one, then?’ Menlow ventured.
The Count shrugged.
‘Perhaps, Dr. Menlow.’
He glanced quickly at his wife and then seemed to recollect his duties as a host.
‘You have met Colonel Anton. Colonel, this is my distinguished guest, Professor Coleridge from America.’
The Chief of Police gave another of his half-bows. As he turned toward the savant and moved his
The former guessed that their host wielded a good deal of power in the locality. The two men conversed together earnestly for a few moments while the rest of the party came up. Coleridge could understand nothing of the interchange, but it was obvious from the police officer’s gestures and the occasional glances of the two men up toward the far trees on the horizon that they were discussing the wolf.
‘The colonel believes the beast to be the one which killed the woodman yesterday,’ explained Menlow, who had been listening closely. ‘It has just badly injured an old man in the village.’
There was a cry of horror from the servants and those Hungarian-speaking people in the group, and some of the former, after asking the Count’s permission, detached themselves from the main party and started off at a clumsy run for Lugos, stumbling and sliding on the icy path in their eagerness to get there.
Coleridge was vaguely aware that the Count’s wife and daughter had joined the edge of the group. Raglan was there too, and he held the girl’s hand tightly as she stood with a white face listening to her father’s questioning of the police chief.
Menlow went on translating at Coleridge’s elbow.
‘Anton cannot understand how he missed the beast,’ he went on in a low voice. ‘He caught up with it at the edge of Lugos, just after it had attacked the old man. His rifle is very accurate. It should have despatched the wolf. But it seemed to know his aiming points and avoided his shots every time.’
Coleridge felt a strange sensation enveloping him. Despite the intense cold he had become oddly warm and had difficulty in focusing his eyes. More of his colleagues were jostling their way through the group now, their questions chopped into disparate segments by the wind. Some of them were panting heavily, and he guessed they had run a good distance from the bridge, mostly uphill all the way.
Coleridge blinked rapidly and had control of himself again. He felt the girl’s eyes on him and recalled once more her strange story of the previous night. He wondered if she were given to hysteria; that and the brooding atmosphere of certain parts of the Castle, which had been growing on him over the past hours, might have been responsible.
But on brief reflection he dismissed the possibility. She had impressed him as being very tough and cool, and from the little contact he had had with her he would not have put her down as being overfanciful. That also left out of account the scratches on the door and the parquet and the beast-hairs that reposed in Menlow’s pocket.
The Count suddenly seemed aware that Coleridge was close beside him.
‘Forgive me, Professor,’ he said curtly. ‘This is a very upsetting matter, as you can imagine.’
‘Do you wish to return to the village?’ Coleridge asked. ‘We can visit the falls some other day.’
Homolky caught the police officer’s eye and shook his head.
‘There is no point. The man is injured; the village doctor is doing the best he can for him, and the beast will be miles away by now.’
He stared grimly up toward the tree-line where the tracks of the wolf could be faintly discerned in the frozen snow.
‘There will be another time,’ he said softly. ‘We will organise a proper hunt if the animal is not shot soon.’
‘Is it the same one, then?’ Menlow ventured.
The Count shrugged.
‘Perhaps, Dr. Menlow.’
He glanced quickly at his wife and then seemed to recollect his duties as a host.
‘You have met Colonel Anton. Colonel, this is my distinguished guest, Professor Coleridge from America.’
The Chief of Police gave another of his half-bows. As he turned toward the savant and moved his
Similar Books
