As we went through the other rooms, we had evidence of the other occupations with which he filled his time. An easel and a model’s throne showed his interest in painting, but he refused to show us his work, saying it was too amateurish. The grand piano in the drawing room was frequently used, as I knew from hearing him play. He even had a small laboratory fitted up. We left this place hurriedly, wrinkling our noses against a strong smell of chemicals.
We saw only the ground floor. One of the rooms had been fitted up as a bedchamber, and none of us needed to ask why Stefano did not use the upper chambers.
We were to dine on the terrace. It was an exquisite setting, with a tiny fountain tinkling in the courtyard. The food was excellent, as Stefano had promised. I noticed that all the servants were men, and could not refrain from commenting on this.
“I told you he was a misogynist,” said Andrea. “Even his housemaids are men! That is why the furniture is not dusted, eh, Stefano?”
“I defy Miss Perkins, wearing white gloves, to find a speck of dust,” said Stefano, who was in an unusually amiable mood.
We had almost finished the meal, and the light was dying fast, when the peace of evening was broken by the sound of a gunshot.
“Poachers again,” said Andrea calmly, as I turned a startled look on him. “I have told you, Brother, that you must enforce the laws. We may sympathize with the poor devils needing food, but they have no right—”
“It is not sympathy, but lethargy, that keeps me from enforcing the law,” said Stefano, scowling. “The Prince is strict enough about his rights; I am surprised that any of the peasants dare invade his grounds.”
All evening Miss Perkins had nobly refrained from talking politics, but this reference to an outmoded feudal right was too much for her; we were treated to a forceful lecture on the unfairness of the hunting laws. “You aristocrats hunt for pleasure,” she exclaimed indignantly. “As if it were a pleasure to inflict pain on other living creatures! At the same time you forbid starving men to hunt for food for their families, when you have deprived them of the means to earn an honest livelihood by monopolizing the means of production.”
“Don’t scold me. Miss Perkins,” said Andrea pathetically. “I don’t deserve it. You know I agree with you.”
“And you know I do not,” Stefano remarked with a smile. “But I won’t argue with you, Miss Perkins. You are too clever for me.”
He did argue, though, and the two of them went at it hammer and tongs, while Galiana yawned and Andrea laughed. But Andrea was conscious of his pretty cousin’s boredom, and as soon as possible he offered to escort her on a walk through the gardens. Stefano waved them away without interrupting the point he was making. I don’t think Miss Perkins even noticed that they had gone.
When the moon rose in its silvery splendor, bathing the courtyard in pale light, Stefano finally ended the argument.
“That was refreshing.” he said. “But now I think we had better find Galiana and Andrea. Shame on you, Miss Perkins, for failing in your duties as chaperone.”
“I could do with a walk myself,” said Miss Perkins calmly. “I am afraid I made a glutton of myself.”
The young pair were not to be found in Stefano’s small enclosed garden, so we went out into the grounds of the castle. As we passed into the rose garden, Stefano leaning heavily on his cane, another shot sounded. This one was much closer, and Stefano stopped with an angry exclamation.
“I must put an end to this. Moonlight is tricky light to shoot by; the fool may injure someone.”
He had scarcely finished speaking when something buzzed through the air, passing between us so closely that I felt the wind of it on my hair, followed by a third explosion.
I would have stood there staring stupidly if Miss Perkins had not wrapped her arms firmly about me and dragged me to the ground.
“Lie still,” she said, as I struggled to free myself. “That was a bullet. Another may follow.”
“But—Stefano—” I began, and then saw that my cousin had disappeared. Almost at once I heard him calling out, and the voices of the servants answering. Lights flared up and began to move through the darkened gardens.
Before long Stefano came back to us, accompanied by one of his grooms, who was carrying a lamp. His lips curved up when he saw us sitting on the ground in an undignified jumble of skirts and hoops.
“You can get up now,” he said, gesturing to the footman, who extended a hand to help me and then hoisted Miss Perkins to her feet.
“Oh, dear,” she said, looking at her skirts. “My pretty dress. I fear I caught my foot in it; there is a sad tear.”
“Better your skirt than your scalp,” said Stefano. “I think the danger is over; my people are searching the grounds, but the idiot who fired those shots will not linger when he realizes how close he came to murder.” Then he turned to me. “Really, Cousin, I begin to think you are bad luck for me. Are you sure you have not stolen the crown jewels, or kidnapped the heir to the throne?”
II
I knew Stefano’s words were one of his peculiar jokes, but a few days later I began to wonder myself if someone had not mistaken me for the object of a family feud. Two accidents in one week might have been coincidence, but a third….
A few days earlier I had moved into my new rooms. The dilatory workmen had finally finished; the suite gleamed with fresh gold paint and smelled of varnish and beeswax. I had never lived in such luxury. The great canopied bed was draped with silk finer than anything I had ever put on my back, and the carpets were so deep I enjoyed walking barefoot on them. Two great carved wardrobes bulged with pretty clothes, and the dressing table held new toilet articles—silver-handled brushes and heavy crystal bottles.
However, the castle had a few inconveniences that I have not mentioned. One of them was the variety of animal life that infested it. Not noxious insects—Miss Rhoda would never have tolerated the degree of dirt that breeds such creatures. But there were flies and wasps; and even Miss Rhoda’s British housekeeping could not keep down all the mice, or the bats that hang about the eaves of such old places. I was not especially afraid of these creatures, but no one likes animals that are apt to swoop or scamper out at one unexpectedly. Once before, in my old room, I had fled screaming from a bat that came through my open window. The poor thing was as frightened as I was, I suppose; at any rate, it blundered back out the window before Teresa and Miss Perkins came running in, to find me in the wardrobe with the door shut.
Mercifully, Teresa was with me, helping me dress for dinner, when my second encounter with a bat occurred. The heavy draperies were pulled back from the balcony windows, which were open because of the heat, but the light inner curtains had been drawn, since the light attracted moths and other insects. Teresa was brushing my hair when the curtain suddenly billowed out. We both turned to look, and I saw the flapping black shape behind the thin white fabric.
“Oh, dear,” I exclaimed, in more annoyance than fear. “Do chase it away, Teresa, before it gets in, I cannot stand….”
As I spoke, the bat came in through the opening in the curtains. It was enormous, much bigger than the others I had seen, and at once I realized that there was something wrong with it. Unlike the other creature, which had fluttered in aimless panic, this one seemed to be moved by a demonic energy. Instead of seeking the window, and freedom, it flung itself across the room in a series of swooping loops and then darted straight at me.
With a shriek I fell to the floor, my arms over my head. Teresa’s face had gone white as dirty paper. I could have excused her for fleeing; instead she ran toward me, swinging the hairbrush like a club. It was luck, not skill, I am sure, that enabled her to hit her target. The solid silver of the brush struck the creature down. It fell to the floor not three feet from me, but it was not dead; its wings continued to flap feebly, and I could have sworn that, crippled as it was, it tried to crawl toward me. I had one horrible, unforgettable view of its evil little face—the eyes glowing red, the fanged mouth open—before Teresa grabbed my shoulders and dragged me away.
Our screams—for Teresa had been shrieking mindlessly the whole time—finally attracted notice. Galiana was the first to burst into the room. She fell back with the most earsplitting shriek of all as she saw the black horror flapping on the floor. Andrea was right behind her. He did not hesitate; thrusting Galiana roughly behind him, he snatched a poker from the fireplace and began beating at the fallen animal.
I didn’t faint, but I certainly lost control of my limbs and my powers of speech for a brief time. When I regained them I was lying on the chaise longue, with Teresa crouched at my feet, her teeth chattering like castanets. Miss Perkins was bending over me. My eyes went at once to the spot on the floor.…A towel had been thrown down there.
“It is gone,” Miss Perkins said. “The Count took it away. Francesca. did it touch you?”
“I don’t think so.” I said. “Teresa…” She looked up when I spoke her name, and I smiled and touched her shoulder. “Teresa hit it with my hairbrush. Really, Miss Perkins, I am ashamed to have been so silly. It was only a bat.”
Teresa, still paper-white, muttered something I did not understand.
“Nonsense,” Miss Perkins said sharply.
“What did she say?” I asked. I felt better, and was about to sit up when Miss Perkins pushed me back.
“The word means ’vampire,’” she said. “Foolish; there is a variety of bat in South America that drinks blood, but it has never been seen in Europe. However…. Francesca, are you certain it did not touch you, not even brush you in passing? Lie back and let me examine—”
