The Man with the Clubfoot by Valentine Williams


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Page 35

Thus we traversed, as it seemed to me, miles of silence and of twilight,
and all the time my blood hammered at my temples and my throat grew dry
as I thought of the ordeal that stood before me. To whom was I thus
bidden, secretly, in the night?

We were in a broad and pleasant passage now, panelled in cheerful light
brown oak with red hangings. After the desolation of the State
apartments, this comfortable corridor had at least the appearance of
leading to the habitation of man. A giant trooper in field-grey with a
curious silver gorget suspended round his neck by a chain paced up and
down the passage, his jackboots making no sound upon the soft, thick
carpet with which the floor was covered.

The man in green stopped at the door. Holding up a warning hand to me,
he bent his head and listened. There was a moment of absolute silence.
Not a sound was to be heard throughout the whole Castle. Then the man in
green knocked softly and was admitted, leaving me outside.

A moment later, the door swung open again. A tall, elegant man with grey
hair and that indefinite air of good breeding that you find in every man
who has spent a life at court, came out hurriedly. He looked pale and
harassed.

On seeing me, he stopped short.

"Dr. Grundt? Where is Dr. Grundt?" he asked and his eyes dropped to my
feet. He started and raised them to my face.

The trooper had drifted out of earshot. I could see him, immobile as a
statue, standing at the end of the corridor. Except for him and us, the
passage was deserted.

Again the elderly man spoke and his voice betrayed his anxiety.

"Who are you?" he asked almost in a whisper. "What have you done with
Grundt? Why has he not come?"

Boldly I took the plunge.

"I am Semlin," I said.

"Semlin," echoed the other, "--ah yes! the Embassy in Washington wrote
about you--but Grundt was to have come...."

"Listen," I said, "Grundt could not come. We had to separate and he sent
me on ahead...."

"But ... but ..."--the man was stammering now in his anxiety--"... you
succeeded?"

I nodded.

He heaved a sigh of relief.

"It will be awkward, very awkward, this change in the arrangements," he
said. "You will have to explain everything to him, everything. Wait
there an instant."

He darted back into the room.

Once more I stood and waited in that silent place, so restful and so
still that one felt oneself in a world far removed from the angry strife
of nations. And I wondered if my interview--the meeting I had so much
dreaded--was at an end.

"Pst, Pst!" The elderly man stood at the open door.

He led me through a room, a cosy place, smelling pleasantly of leather
furniture, to a door. He opened it, revealing across a narrow threshold
another door. On this he knocked.

"Herein!" cried a voice--a harsh, metallic voice.

My companion turned the handle and, opening the door, thrust me into the
room. The door closed behind me.

I found myself facing the Emperor.



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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 30th Nov 2025, 23:52