“I see.” Barney was still turning the explanation over in his mind when they reached the end of the passage and were faced with a massive steel door set flush with the surrounding stonework. Haggle straightened his tie, smoothed a fringe of hair down over his neck, rubbed the toe of each shoe against the back of his other leg, then took a remote control box from his pocket and pressed a button on it to operate the door. Barney’s apprehension increased as the door swung open a short way with a muted electrical hum, giving him his first glimpse of a large, dimly-lit room of cavernous aspect. He followed Haggle through the narrow opening, glancing about him with some disquiet as the door quickly whispered shut at his heels, imprisoning him in an ambience of vaulted ceilings, floor slabs which were big enough to cover graves, and thick pillars behind which armies of shadows lay in ambush.
Remembering the way in which Haggle had preened himself before entering, Barney looked around him – half-expecting to see an occupant, possibly a woman – but the chamber was empty except for a scattering of benches, equipment cabinets and a large divan bed. For no reason he could explain, the sight of the bed in such an unlikely setting brought Barney’s skin up in goose-pimples, strengthening his resolve to get out of Gibley Castle in a hurry and never come back.
“This is my laboratory,” Haggle announced, ‘and it’s where you’ll be doing most of your work.”
You want to bet? Barney thought. He said, “What kind of work are you engaged in?”
“Research into the fundamental nature of particles. I have only recently hypothesized an entirely new class of particle.”
“Really?” Barney felt a faint stirring of professional interest. “What properties do your particles have?”
“Size.”
“Size?” Barney considered the word, trying to place it in context with other scientific whimsicalities such as strangeness, colour and charm. “For a minute I thought you meant big particles.”
“I do.” Haggle’s eyes glittered briefly. “My particles can be a metre and more in diameter, with corresponding volume.”
“I see,” Barney replied, meaning exactly what he said. It had finally become clear to him that Haggle not only looked crazy – the little man was a genuine lunatic. And, with the cunning of the true madman, he had successfully inveigled Barney into his underground lair…
“I can handle all the practical work, looking after the particle detectors and so on, but I need an assistant to deal with the theoretical side,” Haggle said, giving Barney a penetrating stare. “How are you on theory?”
“Very sound,” Barney said, realizing the time had come to start disqualifying himself in no uncertain manner. “Of course, I’ve thrown out all that garbage about wave mechanics and distribution probabilities and so forth.”
“You have?” Haggle looked suitably perturbed.
“It’s totally unnecessary. Needless complication.” Noting that Haggle was reacting in a satisfactory manner, Barney warmed to his subject. “What these modern eggheads don’t seem to realize is that Neils Bohr’s model of the atom was absolutely correct. Particles really are like little snooker balls – all different colours, all bumping into each other – and I can explain any interaction on that basis. It’s quite simple, really.”
Haggle took a step backwards, the stricken look on his face making it obvious that he felt he was the one who was incarcerated with a lunatic. “Are you feeling all right, Mr Seacombe?”
“I feel fine.” Barney put on a broad smile. “I hardly ever get the headaches now.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Haggle said, moving towards the door. “Thanks for coming to see me, Mr Seacombe. You realize, of course, there are other applicants…’ He broke off as a telephone began to ring somewhere in the shadowy reaches of the room. “Will you excuse me?”
Barney, now feeling he was in control of the situation, made a generous gesture of acquiescence. He watched Haggle disappear into a cell-like room adjacent to the main chamber and a few seconds later there came faint and fragmentary sounds of a telephone conversation. Humming a popular tune, his mind full of green visions of the afternoon’s fishing, Barney sauntered around the nearby benches examining the various items of equipment without much curiosity. He was pleased at having managed to think his way out of a tricky situation and he resolved that he would never again allow anybody or anything to spring surprises on him.
At that moment – as though to demonstrate the vanity of such thoughts – Fate confronted Barney Seacombe with the two biggest surprises of his life.
Within the space of five seconds he saw a ghost and fell deeply, irrevocably in love.
The ghost was in the form of a slender young woman with an oval face, large eyes, long hair and a style of dress which – to Barney’s startled and inexperienced eye – might have dated from the Restoration. She was partially transparent, glowed with a delicate violet radiance, and was beckoning for Barney to join her in the shadowy area behind one of the largest pillars.
His first and natural impulse was to take flight, perhaps emitting a scream or two for good measure, but that was counter-balanced by an emotion of an entirely different nature. Barney, although a presentable young man, had never had much success with the girls of his own generation, most of whom regarded him as being too dreamy. Undeterred, he had continued to cherish the belief that one day he would meet a genuine soul-mate, a girl predestined to be his and his alone, and when that happened both he and she, without a word being spoken, would experience a pang of recognition, ecstasy and fulfilment. Now, gazing silently at the girl, he knew that his faith had been vindicated.
In his daydreams the event had been scheduled to take place in a crowded room – the onlookers largely made up of insensitive females who had previously rejected him – but the meeting itself was all that mattered, and Barney was not going to be put off by a few peripheral drawbacks. Here, in the converted dungeons of Gibley Castle, he had found the light of his life, and it mattered little to him that some kind of slip-up in the celestial book-keeping had resulted in his being born a few centuries too late for true love to run its normal course.
Smiling a tremulous smile of hope and joy, he went towards the beckoning figure. He was rewarded with an answering smile, but it faded almost at once and was replaced by a look of haunting anxiety.
“Please do not leave,” she said. “Please stay here. Please do not leave me here with… him.”
Barney was not sure if he had really heard her voice or if the words had merely echoed in his mind, but the plea for help was unmistakable. “Do you mean Mr Haggle?” he whispered.
“Yes, yes. I implore you to save me from him.”
“But you’re a ghost, aren’t you?” Barney glanced down at the girl’s figure to confirm his diagnosis and made the discovery that her semitransparent state of being made it possible for him to see a variety of distracting curves beneath the insubstantial dress. “What can… ? What can …?” He made a valiant effort to gather his thoughts. “What harm can he do you?”
“He is keeping me a prisoner in this terrible place,” she said, her ethereal features registering distress.
“But… I thought a ghost could just flit through walls.”
“If I could do that,” the girl said, and it almost seemed to Barney that a note of impatience was creeping into her voice, “I would hardly be standing here now, would I?”
“You should nip out through the door next time he opens it. You could pass through him, couldn’t you?”
“And mingle my body with his! How can you suggest such a thing?”
“Sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking. You see, this is the first time I have ever…’