“Welcome to my house,” said Emeric Belasco. “I’m delighted you could come.”
Barrett wound the crank tight, ran a fingertip across the end of the steel needle, and set it on the record edge. There was a crackling noise through the speaker, then a voice.
“Welcome to my house,” said Emeric Belasco. “I’m delighted you could come.”
Edith crossed her arms and shivered.
“I am certain you will find your stay here most illuminating.” Belasco’s voice was soft and mellow, yet terrifying—the voice of a carefully disciplined madman. “It is regrettable I cannot be with you,” it said, “but I had to leave before your arrival.”
Bastard, Fischer thought.
“Do not let my physical absence disturb you, however. Think of me as your unseen host and believe that, during your stay here, I shall be with you in spirit.”
Edith’s teeth were set on edge. That voice.
“All your needs have been provided for,” Belasco’s voice continued. “Nothing has been overlooked. Go where you will, and do what you will—these are the cardinal precepts of my home. Feel free to function as you choose. There are no responsibilities, no rules. ‘Each to his own device’ shall be the only standard here. May you find the answer that you seek. It is here, I promise you.” There was a pause. “And now … auf Wiedersehen.”
