Special Deliverance Read Online Free PDF Page B

that might scare it off. He moved a few feet forward in the hope he’d get a better look at it and it was there; it was a light, there could be no doubt of it.
    He moved toward it, glancing away just long enough to make sure that he was still on the path. As he moved the gleam became brighter and more certain, and he felt a surge of thankfulness welling up in him.
    The forest opened into a clearing and he saw the loom of a house in the deepening dusk. The light came from several windows in one end of the building, and he saw that from a massive chimney came a thin trickle of smoke.
    In the darkness he ran into a picket fence, having missed the path in his eagerness to reach the house, and cautiously felt his way along it until he came to a gate. The gate was hinged on a heavy gatepost that was taller than it needed to be. Looking up, he saw the reason for its height. A crossbeam was attached to it, and from the beam a sign hung from two lengths of chain.
    Squinting at it, Lansing made out that it was an inn sign, but the night had deepened so that he could not discern the name.
     

 
    F IVE PEOPLE, FOUR MEN and a woman, were sitting at a heavy oak table in front of a blazing fireplace. When Lansing came through the door and closed it behind him, all of them turned their heads to look at him. One of them, a grossly fat man, levered himself from his chair and waddled across the room to greet him.
    “Professor Lansing, we are so glad that you have arrived,” he said. “We have been worrying about you. There is still one other. We hope nothing has befallen her.”
    “One other? You knew that I was coming?”
    “Oh, yes, some hours ago. I knew when you started out.”
    “I fail to understand,” said Lansing. “No one could have known.”
    “I am your host,” said the fat man. “I operate this dingy inn as best I can for the comfort and convenience of those who travel in these parts. Please, sir, come over to the fire and warm yourself. The Brigadier, I am sure, will give you his chair next to the hearth stone.”
    “Most happily,” said the Brigadier. “I am slightly singed from sitting here so snug against the blaze.”
    He rose, a portly man of commanding figure. As he moved, the firelight glinted off the medals pinned upon his tunic.
    Lansing murmured, “I thank you, sir.”
    But before he could move to take the chair, the door opened and a woman stepped into the room.
    Mine Host waddled forward a step or two to greet her.
    “Mary Owen,” he said. “You are Mary Owen? We are so glad you’re here.”
    “Yes, I am Mary Owen,” said the woman. “And I am more glad to be here than you are to have me. But can you tell me where I am?”
    “Most assuredly,” said Mine Host. “You are at the Cockadoodle Inn.”
    “What a strange name for an inn,” said Mary Owen.
    “As for that I cannot say,” said Mine Host. “I had no hand in naming it. It was already named when I came here. As you may note, it is an ancient place. It has sheltered, in its time, many noble folk.”
    “What place is this?” asked Mary Owen. “I mean the country. What is this place—what nation, what province, what country?”
    “Of that I can tell you nothing,” said Mine Host. “I have never heard a name.”
    “And I have never heard of such a thing,” said Mary. “A man who knows not where he lives.”
    “Madam,” said the man dressed all in black who stood next to the Brigadier, “it is passing strange indeed. He is not making sport of you. He told the same to us.”
    “Come in, come in,” urged Mine Host. “Move closer to the fire. The gentlemen who have been here for some time, soaking up the heat, will make way for you and Professor Lansing. And now that we all are here, I shall go into the kitchen and see how supper’s doing.”
    He waddled off in hurried fashion and Mary Owen came over to stand beside Lansing.
    “Did I hear him call you professor?” she asked.
    “Yes, I think he did. I wish he hadn’t. I’m