7:29 A.M.
Fischer drove the crowbar edge into the cleft, and, straining, levered out another chunk of brick and mortar. It had taken him more than twenty minutes to gouge away an opening no larger than his fist. His pants and tennis shoes were streaked with mortar stains; there was a film of powder on his hands. He sneezed as mortar dust got up his nostrils. Turning, he withdrew his handkerchief and blew his nose. He looked at Florence, who was watching him with anxious eyes. She forced a smile. "I know it's hard."
Fischer nodded, drawing in a ragged breath. He almost sneezed again, controlled it, then, raising the crowbar, jammed its edge into the breach. It slipped as he began to pry away another clump of brick, and, losing balance, he pitched against the wall. "Damn!" he muttered. He straightened up, teeth set on edge, and once more drove the crowbar edge into the wall gap.
He jimmied out another piece of brick, which bounced across the floor, then looked at Florence. "This could take all day," he said.
"I know it's hard," she said again. Fischer stretched his back. "Let me do it for a while," she offered. Fischer shook his head and raised the crowbar.
"Before you continue - " Barrett said.
Fischer turned.
"Since this is clearly going to take a long time," Barrett said to Florence. "you won't mind if I go upstairs and get off this leg.
It's rather painful."
"Yes, of course," she said. "We'll call you when we've found him."
"Quite." Barrett took hold of Edith's arm and turned for the door. Florence exchanged a look with Fischer as he turned back to the gap in the wall.
He was about to thrust the crowbar when he saw it. " Wait." Barrett and Edith looked around as he picked up his flashlight and shone the beam of light into the opening.
"What is it?" Florence was unable to contain her eagerness.
Fischer squinted through the haze of dust. He blew into the gap, then pointed the flashlight beam again. "Looks like a rope," he answered.
Florence came over, and Fischer handed her the flashlight. "Keep pointing it in there." She nodded quickly. Fischer reached into the opening and clamped his fingers on the dusty rope. He pulled down, but there was no give. He pulled up, felt the rope grow slack, then tauten as he let go. "I think there's a weight on the end of it," he said.
Florence caught her breath. "A counterbalance."
Fischer grabbed the crowbar and started jabbing its beveled edge at the sides of the hole, widening it as quickly as he could.
After a minute of forceful digging he dropped the crowbar, and before the clanging resonance had faded, had both hands through the opening. Clutching at the rope, he started pulling upward. The resistance was too strong. He braced himself and pulled with all his might, forehead pressed against the wall, eyes closed, teeth gritted. Move, you bastard, move, he thought.
Suddenly the rope lurched upward, slamming the edge of his right wrist against the jagged brick edge. Fischer jerked his hands back. He was examining his wrist when a rumbling noise began inside the wall. He looked up, startled.
A section of wall was hitching slowly to the right. Fischer braced himself for what they'd see - or wouldn't see. He was conscious of Florence standing beside him tensely as the wall section creaked and shuddered to the side.
Edith made a gagging noise and turned away. Fischer's lips pulled back in a grimace. Florence's sigh of relief fell strangely on his ears.
Shackled to the wall inside the narrow passage were the mummified remains of a man.
Barrett murmured, "Shades of Poe."
"I told you he was here," Florence said.
Fischer stared at the grayish, parchmentlike features of the corpse. Its eyes were like dark, hardened berries, its lips drawn back and frozen in a soundless scream. Obviously, he'd been tied behind the wall while still alive.
"Well, Doctor?" Florence asked.
Barrett drew in a faltering breath. "Well, what?" he asked. "I see the mummy of a man. How do you know it's Daniel Belasco?"
"I know," she said.
"Beyond a doubt? Beyond the slightest doubt?"
" Yes." She looked incredulous.
Barrett smiled. "I think more proof than that is called for."
Florence stared at him. "You're right," she said abruptly.
Turning to the opening, she reached out for the left hand of the shackled figure. Fischer watched her remove a ring.
"Here." She held it out to Barrett.
Barrett hesitated before taking it. Fischer glanced at Edith. She was staring at her husband with a look of apprehension. He looked at Barrett. The physicist was handing back the ring, a forced smile on his lips. "Very good," he said.
"Do you believe me now?"
"I'll think it over."
" Think it over? " Florence gaped at him. "Are you telling me - ?"
"I'm telling you nothing," Barrett cut her off. "I'm saying that I need more time to digest this information and work out my interpretation of it. I must advise you, however, not to presume that one cadaver with a ring can reverse the scientific convictions of a lifetime."
"Doctor, I'm not trying to reverse your convictions. All I'm asking is that we work together. Can't you see that both of us can be right?"
Barrett shook his head. "I'm sorry, no. That I cannot see; and never will." He turned abruptly, limping toward the corridor.
"My dear?" he said.
Edith looked at Florence for a moment, then turned to follow her husband across the room. Fischer took the ring from Florence. It was made of gold, with an oval crest.
Across the crest, in scroll-like letters, were the initials "D. B."
8:16 A.M.
They had eaten in silence for almost twenty minutes now. Barrett pushed aside his plate and drew his cup of coffee in front of himself. He stared across the table at the EMR indicator. Awkward that they had to take their meals at the same table on which his equipment was placed. Still, there was no help for it, since the dining hall was wrecked.
He glanced at Edith. She was sitting motionless, both hands wrapped around her coffee cup, as if for warmth. She looked like a frightened child.
He thrust aside his thinking on the problem. "Edith?" She looked at him, and Barrett smiled. "Disturbed?"
"Aren't you?"
He shook his head. "No, not at all. Is that why you think I've been quiet?"
Edith seemed to hesitate, as if afraid to bring up points he might not be able to refute. "There was a figure," she finally said.
"Quite a dreadful one."
Edith gazed at him uneasily.
"Not necessarily the figure, however," he said.
"But the ring."
"D. B. doesn't have to stand for Daniel Belasco."
She did not look reassured.
"It could stand for David Bart," he said. "Donald Bascomb." He smiled. "Doctor Barrett."
"But - "
"On the other hand, it might actually be Daniel Belasco - assuming such a person existed at all."
"Doesn't that prove her story, then?"
"It would appear to."
"I don't understand, then."
"The point is not the evidence or what it seems to prove, but who found that evidence."
Edith still looked bewildered. Barrett smiled. "My dear," he said, "Miss Tanner is a sensitive of considerable development.
Add to that the vast power residuum in this house to which she, as a medium, has access. The result is a loaded psychic situation in which she is enabled to create any number of effects to validate her views. She was responsible for that 'poltergeist'
attack on me last night, later claiming its source as Daniel Belasco. Next she became 'aware' of his body and 'discovered' it this morning, thus verifying her story even further. The fact that those may actually be the remains of Daniel Belasco is irrelevant.
The point is simply that Miss Tanner is manipulating her power and the power in the house to build a case for herself."
Edith looked at him anxiously. Barrett knew she wanted to believe him but was still thrown off by what had happened.
"What about the teeth marks, though?" he said.
She started.
"That is what you're thinking, isn't it?"
Her smile was faint. "You must be psychic, too."
Barrett chuckled. "Not a bit. It has to be the only point remaining on which you're still uncertain."
"Isn't it proof?"
"To her it is."
"They were teeth marks."
"They appeared to be."
"Lionel - " Edith looked more confused than ever. "Are you telling me they weren't teeth marks?"
"They may have been," he said. "All I'm saying is that they most certainly were not inflicted by Daniel Belasco."
Edith grimaced. "She did it to herself?"
"Perhaps not directly, although I can't discount the possibility," he said. "More likely, though, it falls under the category of stigmata."
Edith looked a little ill.
"Stranger things have happened." Barrett hesitated, then Went on. "I never did tell you what happened to Martin Wrather that time; if you recall, I merely said he'd suffered injury while sitting. What happened was that his genitals were nearly severed. He did it to himself in a moment of hysteria. To this day, however, he remains convinced that 'forces from the other side' attempted to emasculate him." He smiled somberly. "Which is a far cry from a few small bites on female breasts -
although I'm sure the pain she's suffering is considerable.