finally seemed to relax.
‘What a fright, eh?’
Dorian giggled nervously. ‘You must think I’m a coward.’
‘On the contrary. Not many people would dare to start searching the woods at midnight after what happened to Hannah.’
‘What do you think happened?’
Lazarus shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. I suppose we’ll have to wait for the police to finish their investigation.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘But . . . ?’
‘What if there really is something in the forest?’
‘The shadow?’
Dorian nodded gravely.
‘Have you ever heard of a doppelgänger?’ asked Lazarus.
Dorian shook his head.
‘It’s a German term,’ Lazarus explained. ‘It’s like the shadow of a person which, for some reason, has become separated from its owner. Would you like to hear a strange story?’
‘Please . . .’
Lazarus settled in a chair opposite Dorian and closed his eyes briefly, as if he were trying to conjure a long-lost memory.
‘A colleague of mine told me this story a long time ago. The year is 1915. The place, the city of Berlin . . .
‘Of all the watchmakers in Berlin, none was more conscientious or more of a perfectionist than Hermann Blöcklin. In fact, his fixation with the precision of the mechanisms he created had led him to develop a theory regarding the relationship between time and the speed at which light travels through the universe. Blöcklin spent his life surrounded by watches in the small living quarters at the back of his shop on Oranienburger Strasse. He was a solitary man. He had no family. No friends. His only companion was an old cat, Salman, who spent hours sitting quietly beside him in his workshop while Blöcklin devoted his time to science. As the years went by, his interest turned into an obsession. It wasn’t unusual for him to close his shop for days on end. He would spend twenty-four hours without a break, working on his dream project: the perfect clock, a universal machine for measuring time, perhaps even for capturing it.
‘One of those days, in the middle of one of the snowstorms that had been pummelling Berlin for two weeks, the watchmaker received a visit from a distinguished-looking gentleman called Andreas Corelli. Corelli wore an expensive white suit and had long, silvery hair. His eyes were hidden behind two dark lenses. Blöcklin told him that the shop was closed, but Corelli insisted on coming in, saying that he’d travelled a long way with the sole purpose of paying him a visit. Corelli explained that he’d heard about the watchmaker’s technical achievements and even described them to him in detail. Blöcklin was intrigued, as he had believed, until that day, that the rest of the world was ignorant of his discoveries.
‘Corelli’s request intrigued him even more. He wanted Blöcklin to make him a watch, but a special one – its hands were to turn backwards. Corelli explained that the reason behind this commission was that he was suffering from a fatal illness that was going to end his life in a matter of months, so he wanted to possess a watch that would show him the hours, the minutes and the seconds he had left.
‘The strange request came with a more than generous financial reward. Corelli guaranteed to provide Blöcklin with enough funds so that he could work on his research for the rest of his life. In exchange, all he had to do was spend a few weeks creating this device.
‘Needless to say, Blöcklin agreed to the deal. He spent the next two weeks working intensively. Blöcklin was still busy in his workshop when Andreas Corelli knocked on his door once more. The watch was ready. Corelli smiled as he examined it, and after praising the watchmaker’s skill told him that he’d certainly earned his reward. Blöcklin, who was exhausted, confessed that he’d put his entire soul into the project. Corelli nodded in agreement. Then he wound the watch and the mechanism began to turn. He handed Blöcklin a sack of gold coins and bade him goodbye.
‘Beside
‘What a fright, eh?’
Dorian giggled nervously. ‘You must think I’m a coward.’
‘On the contrary. Not many people would dare to start searching the woods at midnight after what happened to Hannah.’
‘What do you think happened?’
Lazarus shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. I suppose we’ll have to wait for the police to finish their investigation.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘But . . . ?’
‘What if there really is something in the forest?’
‘The shadow?’
Dorian nodded gravely.
‘Have you ever heard of a doppelgänger?’ asked Lazarus.
Dorian shook his head.
‘It’s a German term,’ Lazarus explained. ‘It’s like the shadow of a person which, for some reason, has become separated from its owner. Would you like to hear a strange story?’
‘Please . . .’
Lazarus settled in a chair opposite Dorian and closed his eyes briefly, as if he were trying to conjure a long-lost memory.
‘A colleague of mine told me this story a long time ago. The year is 1915. The place, the city of Berlin . . .
‘Of all the watchmakers in Berlin, none was more conscientious or more of a perfectionist than Hermann Blöcklin. In fact, his fixation with the precision of the mechanisms he created had led him to develop a theory regarding the relationship between time and the speed at which light travels through the universe. Blöcklin spent his life surrounded by watches in the small living quarters at the back of his shop on Oranienburger Strasse. He was a solitary man. He had no family. No friends. His only companion was an old cat, Salman, who spent hours sitting quietly beside him in his workshop while Blöcklin devoted his time to science. As the years went by, his interest turned into an obsession. It wasn’t unusual for him to close his shop for days on end. He would spend twenty-four hours without a break, working on his dream project: the perfect clock, a universal machine for measuring time, perhaps even for capturing it.
‘One of those days, in the middle of one of the snowstorms that had been pummelling Berlin for two weeks, the watchmaker received a visit from a distinguished-looking gentleman called Andreas Corelli. Corelli wore an expensive white suit and had long, silvery hair. His eyes were hidden behind two dark lenses. Blöcklin told him that the shop was closed, but Corelli insisted on coming in, saying that he’d travelled a long way with the sole purpose of paying him a visit. Corelli explained that he’d heard about the watchmaker’s technical achievements and even described them to him in detail. Blöcklin was intrigued, as he had believed, until that day, that the rest of the world was ignorant of his discoveries.
‘Corelli’s request intrigued him even more. He wanted Blöcklin to make him a watch, but a special one – its hands were to turn backwards. Corelli explained that the reason behind this commission was that he was suffering from a fatal illness that was going to end his life in a matter of months, so he wanted to possess a watch that would show him the hours, the minutes and the seconds he had left.
‘The strange request came with a more than generous financial reward. Corelli guaranteed to provide Blöcklin with enough funds so that he could work on his research for the rest of his life. In exchange, all he had to do was spend a few weeks creating this device.
‘Needless to say, Blöcklin agreed to the deal. He spent the next two weeks working intensively. Blöcklin was still busy in his workshop when Andreas Corelli knocked on his door once more. The watch was ready. Corelli smiled as he examined it, and after praising the watchmaker’s skill told him that he’d certainly earned his reward. Blöcklin, who was exhausted, confessed that he’d put his entire soul into the project. Corelli nodded in agreement. Then he wound the watch and the mechanism began to turn. He handed Blöcklin a sack of gold coins and bade him goodbye.
‘Beside
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