The Vorrh

believing that the Tulps probably viewed him with a similar reverence. He roused himself at the thought of the Lohr family demise. ‘A bit gone to seed now though,’ he added, with the tiniest relish of spite. ‘Just that strange daughter to run all that wealth and influence here in the Old Country.’
    The doctor was absorbing every word, weighing every gram of possibility.
    ‘Did you know she was born blind?’ asked Daren.
    ‘I have had some knowledge of her case, but I am unable to speak of it, you understand,’ lied the doctor.
    ‘Oh, yes, of course!’ said Daren, without a moment’s doubt, his finger coming to rest on his closed lips.
    * * *

    Maclish had relaxed his strict social rules and accepted some wine in the name of self-congratulation. After many dry, disciplined years, he drank it in toasts to various companions, who stood and drank to him in return, with words of extreme gratitude. Nobody had ever said such things, and he had no defence. He swam in the flood stream of it, basking after the third glass and hugging his wife ferociously after the fifth; at least, he thought it was his wife. By brandy, he was slipping back into his origins, where all sorts of vermin and jokers waited to greet him. Marie had been escorted to a seat four rooms away, and sat in the middle of her worst nightmare, with the herd of directors’ wives. She had nothing in common with the women and nothing to say, and they all knew it. What was more, she feared William was on a steep decline and she was not with him to steer the outcome. She hoped he might collapse, that he might pass out before his long-sleeping fangs came out. The prospect snapped her to sense and she acted without stopping to think, cleverly approaching the most senior frauen.
    ‘I do apologise, but I am afraid that my husband has not taken his medicine,’ she announced in such a strong, music-hall Scottish accent that it surprised even her. ‘Please, I must go to him.’
    Allowing a wife to intrude on the gentlemen’s part of the evening was unheard of, but it seemed a matter of severe need, so a maid was called and told to take Mrs. Maclish to the hall of the gentlemen’s room.
    Marie bowed, fluttering and thanking those present until she was outside the room. Then she clicked into action, running through the corridors with the astonished maid in tow. Outside the smoky door, she told the maid what to do and made herself scarce. The lowly accomplice waited for her to leave, then knocked at the heavy door. Eventually, a bleary man opened it, seeming surprised to find anybody there.
    ‘Please, sir!’ the maid said. ‘Mrs. Maclish has been taken poorly, she needs to talk to her husband about her pills.’
    ‘Mrs who?’ spluttered the man.
    ‘Mrs. Maclish, the guest wife.’
    ‘Oh, oh, of course,’ said the man, vanishing back into the room.
    After a prolonged time, during which the sound of moving furniture and broken glass fanfared his arrival, the soggy head of Maclish came around the door. There were no fangs, just a stupid grin. His concealed wife peered around the corner to make sure the coast was clear, then, at her command, they both pounced and dragged him out of the door and across the hall. Mercifully, there was no resistance, and the three of them staggered towards the entrance and the waiting automobile.
    * * *

    The door to the courtyard was curiously open. With no servant to show him in, Hoffman walked himself to the front steps of the house and rang the bell. Almost instantly, Ghertrude was there, shaking his hand and inviting him to enter. The interior was blank, without sign of individual arrangement, yet the proportions were pleasant and well kept.
    ‘Is this your house, Mistress Tulp?’ he asked.
    ‘No, doctor, it belongs to a friend,’ she answered, with a modest smile.
    She took him through to a reception room that smelt a little musty and unused. He stood in the centre of it, smiling uncomfortably.
    ‘May I offer you a sherry?’ she asked.
    ‘That would be delightful!’ he said, tucking his Gladstone behind the chair while she went to the cabinet. It was in his best interests to keep the bag and its contents out of her way.
    ‘Please, take a seat,’ she said, returning with the brimming glasses.
    He settled himself and enthusiastically took the sherry. ‘I have often walked past this house and wondered who lived here,’ he fished. ‘It must be one of the oldest houses in the city.’ He sipped his sherry