Albert jolted violently awake from his painful reverie, his heart pounding wildly! Had Kale returned? Or... he did not dare think further.
"Who?" he asked hoarsely, his voice especially dry in the empty room.
"Mr. Albert, it's me, Old John." An aged voice came from beyond the door. It was the old servant in charge of household chores and night watch at his estate. "I saw that your study lamp was still on. It's so late, yet you haven't rested. Is something the matter? Would you like me to come in and add some lamp oil, or warm you a cup of milk?"
It was Old John. Albert relaxed slightly, but an even deeper chill immediately rose in his heart. Old John was one of the few old servants he had brought from the Royal Capital. Usually taciturn and diligent, he was one of the few people in this foreign land with whom Albert could exchange a few words.
Yet at this most sensitive of moments, Old John's appearance instinctively made him uneasy.
"No... no need, John. I'll rest soon." Albert wanted to send him away as quickly as possible.
Silence lingered outside the door for a moment. Just as Albert thought Old John had left, that aged, respectful voice rang out again. This time, there seemed to be an exceedingly subtle difference in its tone. "Mr. Albert, are you really... all right? Perhaps I should come in and take a look? I... have some things that perhaps ought to be said to your face."
Albert's heart sank sharply. Beneath that respectful tone, he heard a trace of something not to be questioned. Old John... did he know something? Or perhaps...
An exceedingly bold—even absurd—thought flashed through his mind. Carnford's Intelligence Bureau... Richter... everywhere, leaving no crack unpenetrated...
He stared