"Rest? It is not I who needs rest; it is poor little Mikki with his sore tall. Mikki? Where are you?"
Wayness peered underneath the chair. “He seems to be doing quite nicely.”
“Then that is one worry I am spared.” She examined Wayness coldly, with eyes behind folds and layers of loose skin, like the eyes of a turtle. “Now that you are here, what do you want? I think Baron Stam said something about botany?"
"Yes, that is correct. Count Raul, of course, was well known in the field and some of his findings have never been fully documented. With your permission, I would like to look over his papers. I will cause you as little inconvenience as possible.”
Countess Ottilie set her lips in a hard line. “Botany was another of Count Raul's expensive triflings. He knew a thousand ways to spend money. They called him a philanthropist, but he was something else: he was a fool!"
"Surely not!" said Wayness, once again shocked.
Countess Ottilie tapped the lawn with her cane. “That is my opinion. You are convinced otherwise?”
“Of course not! But — "
“We were never left in peace because of whiners and solicitors. Each day would see more of them, with their big teeth and unctuous grins. Worst of all was the Nature Society.”
“The Naturalist Society?”
“Those are the ones! I detest the sound of the name: They were beggars, thieves, carnivores! They never desisted, never relented; always a plea here and a wheedle there! Would you believe it? One time they wanted to build a grand palace for their comfort upon our ancient lands!”
"Extraordinary!" said Wayness, feeling a hypocrite and a traitor. “Incredible!"
"I set them right, I can tell you! They got nothing!"
Greatly daring, Wayness said thoughtfully: "'Count Raul did some very interesting work on Naturalist Society data. Do you know of any papers pertaining to the Naturalist Society?”
"Nothing! Have I not described these people? I emptied the file into a box and sent it away where I will never be reminded of money spent so foolishly."
Wayness smiled in polite agreement. The interview was going poorly. “As for me, I will cost you nothing, and in the end the Count's reputation may well be enhanced.”
Countess Ottilie made a scornful sound. “Reputation? A joke! I care nothing for my own, even less for that of Count Raul.”
Wayness forged grimly ahead. "Still, Count Raul's name is honored at the university. No doubt he owes much of his stature to your encouragement."
“No doubt."
“Perhaps then I might dedicate my thesis to “Count Raul and Countess Ottilie de Flamanges!"
“As you like. If that is all you came for, you may go."
Wayness ignored the remark. “Count Raul kept records of his collections and acquisitions, as well as his researches?”
"Of course. If nothing else, he was meticulous.”
“I would like to look through his records, so that I might clear up certain puzzles."
"Impossible. We keep such things locked up nowadays.”
Refusal was no more than Wayness had been expecting. “It would of course be in the interests of science, and of course I would be helped in my career. I assure you that I would be no trouble to you."
Countess Ottilie prodded the lawn with her cane. "Not another word! Yonder is the gate; go the way you have come, and at once!"
Wayness hesitated, reluctant to accept so devastating a defeat. "May I come again, when you are feeling better?"
Countess Ottilie stood erect, showing herself to be a woman taller than Wayness had assumed. "Did you not hear me? I want none of you about, prying and picking, always reaching with your fingers, nibbling at my things."
Wayness turned away and marched in a rage of her own to the gate.
The time was noon. Wayness stood in the road outside the gates to Mirky Porod, waiting for the omnibus which, according to the schedule, passed each hour. She looked up the road; no bus was in sight and no sound could be heard save the singing of insects Wayness went to sit on a stone bench. Her circumstances were more or less as she had expected them to be; nevertheless, she felt deflated and depressed. What worry”? Wayness forced herself to ponder. Several schemes suggested themselves, all either impractical, illegal, immoral or dangerous. Wayness liked none of them, especially all variations on the theme of kidnapping one or more of the dogs.
Down the avenue from Mirky Porod came Sophie the erstwhile maid, carrying a pair of bulging suitcases. She looked at Wayness. "Here we are again. How did your interview go?"
“Not well."
"I could have told you that from the start." Sophie put down her suitcases and joined Wayness on the bench. As for me, I am finished, definitely and forever. I have suffered enough from that old reptile and her curs.”
Wayness gave rueful assent. “She has an uncertain temper.”
“Oh, her temper is certain enough,“ said Sophie. “It is always bad, and niggardly to boot she pays as little as she can and she wants attention at all hours. No wonder she has trouble keeping staff."
“How many folk work for her?”
“Let me see. Mr. Lenk and Madame Lenk, a cook and a scullion, four maids, a footman who serves as chauffeur, two gardeners and a boy. I will say this; Mr. Lenk makes sure there's a good table, and no one is truly over-worked. Lenk is sometimes a bit amorous, but he can be controlled by means of a hint to Madame Lenk, who then makes Lenk so miserable that one almost takes pity on the poor man. He is surprisingly quick and one must be agile enough to keep from being backed into a corner, in which case there is often no help for it."
"It would seem that Lenk keeps everyone happy at Mirky Porod.”
“He tries his best, for a fact. In the main he is easy enough, and holds no grudges."
“Are there truly ghosts at the castle?"
“That is a serious question. Everyone who has heard them claims that he has heard them, you get my meaning.
As for me, you would not find me anywhere near North Tower when the moon is at the full."
“What does Countess Ottilie say about the ghosts?”
“She says it was ghosts who pushed Count Raul from the window, and I suppose that she would know best."
“So it would seem.”
The omnibus arrived and the two rode to Tzem. Wayness went directly to the telephone in The Iron Pig and called Mirky Porod. The face of a middle-aged man, sleek and suave, with plump jowls, lank black hair, drooping eyelids and a neat little mustache appeared on the screen. Wayness asked: “Am I addressing Mr. Lenk?" From his end of the connection, Lenk observed Wayness' image with approval and touched back his mustache. '"True enough! I am Gustav Lenk. How may I oblige you, and be assured that I will make every effort to do so!"
“It is simple enough, Mr. Lenk. I have been talking with Sophie, who has just resigned her position at Mirky Porod."
“That is unfortunately the case.”
“I wish to apply for the position, if it is still open.”
“It is still open, right enough. I have barely had time to learn of the vacancy myself." Lenk cleared his throat and examined Wayness' image with even greater Interest. “You have had experience at this kind of work?”
“Not a great deal, but I am sure that with your help I will have no problems.”
Lenk said cautiously: “In ordinary circumstances this would be correct. However, if Sophie had anything to say about Countess Ottilie — “
“She spoke at length, and with emotion."
“Then you must know that the difficulties are not the work itself, but Countess Ottilie and her pets.”
"I understand this clearly, Mr. Lenk.”
"I must point out, also, that the pay is not large. You would start at twenty sols a week. However, your uniform is furnished, and there are no deductions. If I may say so, the staff is congenial, and all of us realize that dealing with the Countess is difficult. Nevertheless, it must be accomplished, and in fact this is the basis for all our employments."