horror effect

Stephen walked into the ward, bringing in a cloud of air-conditioning with him, and after he closed the door tightly, he came over and sat beside Julian. "How's your foot?" he asked.

"It's fine. Just a little fever."

"Yeah. I went to the cemetery. The tombstone of Bogus is exactly the same as before, and there is no tampering with it. The same is true for Theoros' tombstone."

"So how do we explain what we're seeing?"

"It just boils down to magic, and it's like going back to the Middle Ages. Or, you could think that there's a whole army of hardworking moles under the cemetery who see it as their job to move coffins, and just so happen to have moved Theoros's coffin to Berges under the tombstone."

Stephen's words amused Julian.He shook his head with a smile and said, "I'd rather believe in magic."

"I think so. Do you know why Klodkov didn't chase us last night?" He blinked. "Because the White Lion—or Burgess, whatever—stopped him, and he was showing off when I went to the cemetery. I believe it was he who erased all traces of our actions."

"So he's helping us."

"In a way—it is."

"It's strange," said Julian, "for the first time I've ever met a criminal leading a detective to a secret. But... maybe the white lion is leading us, and he wants us to discover something, something we don't know yet. .”

"Perhaps even something he wants us to reveal. I believe the White Lion's secret is not simple."

Julian nodded in agreement, and Stephen continued: "I turned a corner on the way back from the cemetery and visited Constance Malmey, Father Coliving and Sister Tofana."

"You've done a lot in the past few hours." Julian couldn't help but sarcastically.

"Actually, I didn't see Sisters Tofana, who were determined not to see outsiders; I didn't see Father Collivan, who Micah said was not feeling well. I only met the female painter and asked her about the wedding of the Bouviers. On the engraving question.

I remember telling you that the meaning of that statue is intriguing.Constance told me that she was only engraving as commissioned by Herbert Wernstein, and that the sketches on the drawings were drawn from Wernstein's opinion.

Lo and behold, we found a very interesting character who had a room in his hotel that was haunted, and he must have known it, because he was the only one who had the key to it, according to the waiter; and presented it to the Bouyil couple at a banquet held in the hotel; and Theoros died suddenly in the courtyard of the hotel.It was such a coincidence that Herbert Wernstein might not have been the White Lion's accomplice, but he certainly knew something. "

"I think it's possible he even got paw prints on the chest of Theoros' body, don't forget Wernstein was in that group when you saw the body," Julian said.

"Is he doing it to cause a panic?" said Stephen, "but it won't do his hotel any good to spread such news."

"Maybe he's not looking for income? Maybe he's looking for something else?"

"I always feel that Wernstein, as a foreigner, has no direct connection with local events."

"But what he did is too strange, and it is necessary to investigate." Julian thought for a while and said, "Stephen, I hope I can return to the hotel as soon as possible. Even if I can't move around, I can still investigate Vohnstein. You Help me convince the doctor."

"Oh, hell! I think the whole thing is ridiculous from beginning to end," Stephen complained.

"Really? But I don't know what's not absurd in this world?"

At this moment, Nicholas opened the door and brought Julian the lunch that had just been delivered.Stephen knew he had to leave, but before that, he took the time to ask, "Is there anything else I need to do?"

"Of course. Hell, can you bring me something to eat this afternoon." Julian looked at the lunch and said resentfully.

At last the blizzard had passed, and Herbert Wernstein stood at his office window, looking out at the snow-covered grounds and buildings of the Cedar Hill Inn.It's been snowing this year, he thought, and that's unusual.

He searched for a suitable word in his mind—coincidence, indeed, this snow, the last heavy snow, and the people who appeared in the town...or—he smiled—it could also be called providence .He could imagine that the heavy snowfall in February would bring many guests to the hotel. Fortunately, he had planned well and had already joined the hotel alliance, so he should be able to get a lot of customers.

Before that happens, though, it's best to have the snow cleared away.

Herbert pressed the bell.

Before the front desk manager Balfin came up, he looked out again, only to find that the ambulance of the medical center was parked outside the gate, and soon, Nicola Theoros pushed a wheelchair out of the car, and there was a person sitting on it. Julian Raymond.Herbert knew about Julian's injury--an accident like this cannot be hidden from anyone in a small town--but he did not expect that he would be back at the hotel so soon.

At this moment Balfin came in, and Herbert immediately turned around and asked, "What's going on?" He pointed out the window.

"Oh, it's Mr. Julian Raymond. He's back from the infirmary."

"I know that. What I want to ask is why he didn't inform me before he came back."

Balfin was taken aback, and said a little surprised: "Sorry, I don't think you will be interested."

"On the contrary, I am very interested." Herbert made a gesture to draw Balfin closer, and then whispered, "He is a traveling reporter. We must make a good impression on him. When he returns, give his room Add a full-time male waiter, and try his best to meet his requirements. Let the waiters on that floor be on duty 24 hours a day."

"Any other requests?"

"That's all for now. I hope Mr. Reporter can write something that excites us when we return home. You can go."

Balfin got the instructions and left quickly.Herbert sat down in his big Hyporwhite chair, and stared thoughtfully at the leather-bound notebook in front of him bearing the insignia of the hotel.After a while, his lips twitched slightly, and he murmured: "It seems we have to talk."

The situation when Julian returned to the hotel on the first day can be described as chaotic: Nicholas, Stephen, Martha, the front desk manager Balfin and the male waiter from nowhere kept coming and going in and out of his room; Crutches, medicines, books, food, freshly pressed shirts, new plush rugs were moved around.He lay on the bed and watched them busy, and felt like a whirlwind was blowing in front of him.

In the end, he couldn't bear it anymore, and drove everyone out, locked the door behind him, and fell asleep on the bed.

It was already the next morning when he woke up.His first feeling was that he wanted to go to the toilet, and the second feeling was that he was thirsty. After these two things were resolved, he felt hungry again.

Knowing that it would be indecent to go to a restaurant with a cane, and that he didn't want to be the center of attention, Julian ordered breakfast.But unexpectedly, ten minutes later Martha came in with a tray and laid out breakfast on the bed table—it was still a serious full Victorian breakfast: porridge, smoked fish, various sausages, coarse grains and Bitter jam and a basket of assorted breads.

"Wait, wait," said Julian, "I called breakfast, not English breakfast. Is there a special this morning? Or are you going to hit me hard?"

Martha shrugged and replied: "I'm sorry, I don't know, I just follow orders. But I can tell you that I won't overcharge you. If it were me, I would try to enjoy it instead of asking endless questions. ’ She grimaced and exited the room.

In a blink of an eye, Julian had cleared the table of food, and then, as most of us do after a hearty meal, he fell into divine meditation.If Julian had been a woman, he would probably have started reading a novel of sentimentality, and sentimentality is only effective when you are well fed and drunk.Since Julian is not a woman, it is appropriate to describe his thoughts with the word sacred. At least, that is what most of the House of Lords think.

He's working on a list of books in his mind, one that will keep him from being bored during the few days when he won't be able to move around.The plays of Bernard Shaw, or the novels of Galdous?He thought, or read Human Anatomy for his poked right foot?Or was it Christie's detective novels and Haggard's thrillers for the occult subject he was working on?Julian was not sure, so he simply put all these books in the book list, and then he called Lin Nong's rental bookstore and told Valentine one by one the books he needed.

Only "Anatomy" could not be borrowed; the others would arrive soon, much to Julian's delight.

He rang for the waiter to take away the empty plates, but when Martha entered his room he saw her followed by the innkeeper Herbert Wernstein.

"May I have a few words with you? I don't think I've disturbed you?" the innkeeper said very politely to the patient who was still sitting on the bed.

Julian froze for a moment.

He didn't expect Herbert to come to him himself, but he didn't panic because of his lack of preparation. In his life, there are countless such unexpected things, and he has dealt with them one by one. No missing arms or legs or anything.

"Oh, sure. As a lodger, I must say I'm a little flattered."

Herbert smiled. "No no, we are flattered. You are a well-informed travel reporter."

"Look at what you said, I just traveled a few more countries than ordinary people."

At this time, Martha tidied up the house and went out with the small table and the garbage, leaving only two people in the room.Julian expected Herbert to change the subject at once and end the false modesty they had been exchanging with each other.But he didn't.

"You must have stayed in many good hotels in your travels in various countries. I would like to hear your opinion and learn something."

Julian's first reaction to this suggestion was that he was lying.

A hotel general manager should be familiar with the inside information of the hotel industry, and the advice of outsiders is usually not important.

But Julian couldn't figure out where the focus of his conversation was now, so he could only follow his words.

"Hmm. I don't think you are interested in cookie-cutter hotel chains like Hilton or Four Seasons. Considering the situation in Cedar Hills, you should prefer the Connor Hotel."

"Indeed." Herbert raised his head.

"But... Connor is not a good example. It is very special. The old-fashioned hotel with a deep house is rare because it looks noble. And Cedar Hills does not have as good a chef as the Roch brothers, nor does it have a Ample configuration for three waiters per room, also not dim enough for a proper bar.

But Connor has its dislikes, like its sanctimonious dress code, and Cedar Hills has its good things, like its unpretentious decor. "

"And the guest room? How do you feel? Like this one of yours."

"Ah, I'm a go-getter, actually—not bad."

"So—what about room C307?"

finally come.thought Julian.He had been watching the opening and closing of Herbert's lips, waiting for some weighty word.He felt that every nerve in his body was tensed like a twisted string.

Still, he needs to put on a show for a while longer. "I don't know. That room is probably symmetrical to mine?"

"You don't know? It's too inappropriate. Didn't you go in with that little friend of yours—what's his name? A ridiculous name?—Stephen Breumontrost?"

"Mr. Warnstein. What are you talking about. I'm an ordinary reporter, not a thief."

"Oh! Of course you are not a thief, you are a researcher—entered room C307 to spy and found this." As he spoke, Herbert took out a small plastic bag from his suit pocket, which contained a yellowed A scrap of paper with the words KALOS faintly visible on it.

Julian was taken aback.

He clearly remembered putting the paper in the locked box, but how did it get into Herbert's hands?But despite being surprised, he wasn't stupid enough to blurt out obvious nonsense such as "How did you find it?"

He pretended to be calm and innocent, and said: "My dear Mr. Wohnstein, I do not understand what you are implying.

What happened to that piece of paper?Torn newspapers or old books?I'm a reporter, and I only care about what's happening at the moment, and what happened in the past should be studied by historians.You must be mistaken. "

Unexpectedly, a sly smile suddenly appeared on the corner of Herbert Wernstein's serious mouth just now, which seemed a bit mocking.He put the piece of paper back into his pocket, and continued: "Maybe I made a mistake. But I know what you guys are doing these days. Maybe you can also understand that people in the town don't like outsiders meddling, no matter what happens They don't really need any advice, guidance..."

"But someone died," Julian interrupted.

"People are going to die anytime, anywhere." Herbert replied coldly, and turned to leave.

"Will it continue to happen?" Julian asked hurriedly.

"Hmm... I don't know, maybe you should ask..."

His words were interrupted by the loud sound of the doorbell.