“Then, how did this tray find itself here?” I kept
my eyes on him as I spoke. He returned my gaze without
blinking.
“I have taken the liberty of bringing you these few
morsels. I was sure you would be hungry. It was I who
carried the tray to your room. You have slept for almost
twenty-four hours.” His manner was so light and gracious
that it was difficult not to accept him at his word.
“And, I'm afraid you are mistaken about the spirits.
I do not imbibe. As a result, I seldom keep them in the
house. I have a few bottles of wine that I serve only to my
guests but I'm ashamed to say that I did not have an
opportunity to offer you refreshment of any kind last
evening. When I discovered you in my study, you were
already asleep.”
I was, quite honestly, astounded by these
statements. Would a man of Wertenberg's obvious
breeding and prominence deceive me and, if so, why? Or,
had I dreamed it all? Was the entire evening a mirage, a
figment of my subconscious imagination?
“Are you telling me Dr. Wertenberg that I did not
enjoy a superlative malt whiskey last night that was served
to me by a most fetching young woman, a woman of
pleasing physical features? That upon tasting the liquor I
did not then fall asleep?
“I must confess that I have neither fine whiskey to
offer my guests nor an agreeable young servant girl to
attend to my needs or theirs.” The old gentlemen bowed
his head slightly and closed his eyes. “Were it so” he
sighed. “Were it so.”
15