Read The Melancholy Countess (Short Story) for Free Online Page B

He did not have unlimited time. “Have you ever been hypnotized, Herr Hauke?”
    “No.”
    “It is sometimes possible to recall things under hypnosis that would otherwise be entirely inaccessible. Would you permit me to hypnotize you, Herr Hauke?”
    “If you think it will help, I am, as they say, completely at your disposal.”
    Liebermann dimmed the paraffin lamp. “I want you to stare up at a fixed point on the ceiling. Where those two cracks meet will do. As you concentrate on that fixed point, you will find that your eyelids are becoming heavier and heavier.” Liebermann spoke softly, allowing his voice to become a soothing monotone. “You are feeling tired. You are sinking into a deep, deep, relaxing sleep.” After two or three minutes, Liebermann’s words began to take effect, and after ten minutes, Hauke’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow.
    “Herr Hauke, you are sitting in the dining room at the Corvinus Hotel. It is the night of Saturday the third of February. What can you see?”
    “Zigana.” Hauke’s lip curled. “Playing with her food.”
    “What are your feelings toward her?”
    “Revulsion. She is so … inert. I can’t stand the way she eats. She reminds me of a tortoise or a grub.”
    “As you look at her, what are you thinking, Herr Hauke?”
    “I’m thinking about her earrings.”
    “What about them?”
    “Their value.”
    “What’s happening now?”
    “I can see Tausig. He looks wet. It’s obviously raining outside. He comes to the table and apologizes to Zigana. I have to get him over to the piano in order to deal with him. He wants his money back. I let him believe that I am offended and that I will demand satisfaction. He hasn’t picked up a sabre in years, and I can see that actually he’s quite frightened. Before he runs off, I advise him to get an umbrella from the concierge. When I return to my table, the second course has already arrived.”
    “What does your wife say?”
    “Nothing. She lifts the noodles up and then lets them drop off her fork. My steak is rather tough, and I notice that Zigana’s meal looks rather good. I say, ‘If you’re not very hungry, I’ll have your goulash.’ And so, I reach across the table and swap our orders. She doesn’t object. She never does.”

14
    Rheinhardt had given Farkas no prior notice of their visit. Consequently, when the inspector and Liebermann arrived at the Corvinus, the manager was understandably surprised. “You want to interview them all now?” he exclaimed.
    “Yes,” said Rheinhardt. “Herr Bodor, Robi Danko, and Herr Rác.”
    The chef, Bodor, and his young assistant, Danko, were already in the kitchen. Rác had to be summoned. When they were all assembled, Rheinhardt positioned himself in the middle of the floor and said, “Thank you for your time, gentlemen. Once again, we are here with respect to matters pertaining to the sad demise of the Countess Zigana.”
    “I read that the villain has been arrested,” said Bodor, a plump man with mottled cheeks and lank hair.
    “That is true. Herr Hauke is being detained at the Schottenring station.”
    “What a scoundrel,” said Rác. “To drown his own wife. It’s unspeakable. And she was such a fragile thing. The brute.”
    “Indeed,” said Rheinhardt. “However, new evidence has come to light that suggests that we may have acted rashly. I am hoping that you”—Rheinhardt swept an inclusive hand around the kitchen—“may be able to help us clarify certain points at issue.”
    “New evidence?” said Farkas. “What new evidence?”
    Rheinhardt walked over to the oven and turned with unexpected grace on his heel. “Herr Rác, do you remember what Herr Hauke and the countess ordered to eat?”
    “You mean, on that Saturday?” The waiter shrugged. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
    “I do,” said Bodor. “The starter courses were soup and goose liver, and the main courses were goulash and steak. That’s right, isn’t it,