Stokers Shadow Read Online Free PDF

instructions.”
    â€œInstructions?”
    There is a silence.
    â€œThe question, you see, is this.” The words emit from Mr. Thring, soft and quiet, like bubbles in a spring. His gentleness unnerves William.
    â€œHow does your mother want to proceed? Does she want payment from the film company or does she want an injunction against further performance?” Mr. Thring’s dark eyes twinkle.
    â€œOh. I see,” William replies carefully. “I don’t think we’ve quite decided the question.”
    â€œWell, that’s what we must know before we hand the matter to our continental lawyer.”
    William can feel another battle rising; he knows that he may have to persuade his mother not to throw away the chance of royalties.
    â€œI’ll have to ask her.”
    Mr. Thring smiles and rings a bell on his desk.
    â€œNow, Mr. Stoker. I must tell you I am an admirer of your late father’s work. The whole subject brings the magic of my childhood wafting back to me.” He smiles sentimentally.
    William feels the rims of his eyelids burn. “Me too,” he croaks.
    A young woman enters in answer to the bell.
    â€œWill you join me in some tea, Mr. Stoker? I do so long to reminisce with the son of one of the most frightening men of my youth.”
    William feels the boulder shift unhappily in his chest, but he tries to relax.
    He spends the next forty minutes listening to Mr. Thring’s memories of the Lyceum’s golden age: Irving playing Hamlet; Irving playing Shylock; Irving’s curtain calls; the magical performance as Matthias on the night of Edward’s coronation; Irving as Napoleon; Irving as the Vicar of Wakefield; Irving as Mephistopheles.
    Slowly, William feels himself becoming twelve years old again. He clenches his jaw, and feels the growing glint in his eye. A black pool of masochism rises within him, and he begins chipping in details that Mr. Thring has forgotten, correcting dates, reminding him of names of supporting players. And then, finally, the conversation slips from the great man to William’s father. Mr. Thring remembers the “superstitiouswhirlpool” of the Carpathian Mountains as described in Dracula. He remembers how the characters in the story, once infected by the vampire, become mediumistic, their thoughts and dreams merging. “Such a fantastic idea!” Mr. Thring exclaims. And then he adds quite sincerely: “Your father’s imagination must have benefitted so much from being with such an inspired artist.”
    At first William does not understand. “An inspired artist?”
    â€œSir Henry.”
    William looks at the Secretary in disbelief. His round face, bald head and glasses make him seem, for a moment, like a comic goblin. William tries to keep his composure, riding waves of anger and frustration. A few moments later he is gone, pleading lateness for an appointment. He wanders back to his office, passing the black statue of Irving on the way, barely resisting an urge to spit.
    M ARY ENTERS, FEELING slightly nervous.
    As usual, the old lady does not look up although she knows Mary is there – a mannerism that confused the girl for the first two weeks of her stay. Instead, Mrs. Stoker places a bookmark carefully between the pages of The Moonstone. Then she looks down in a studied fashion, apparently thinking.
    â€œMary,” she says suddenly.
    â€œYes, Mrs. Stoker.”
    Now she looks up.
    â€œMrs. Davis has informed me that you have moved your chair and dressing table so that they face an open window.”
    Mrs. Stoker’s gaze remains on her as though expecting a reply.
    â€œYes Ma’am,” Mary eventually says.
    â€œThis may not be a total evil in itself during the day when the outside is brighter than your room … do you follow me?”
    Mary thinks she has missed something. She goes back over the sentence trying to find it, getting agitated. “I’m sure I need not