9,000 Petals of Insanity

Chapter 10: Into the Fourth Dimension

"When I came home last night at three,

The man was waiting there for me

But when I looked around the hall,

I couldn't see him there at all!"

William Hughes Mearns, "Antigonish"

Events only got worse the next day.

That Tuesday was, I confess, one of the most bizarre days in my entire life. In all of my career with Dusang, I had never encountered another time more baffling and perplexing as this. You might not believe me, dear reader, when I relate the events of that day to you. However, I assure you, what I have told you is completely truthful, and not a single fact has been omitted or exaggerated.

Rather shocked by the events of the previous night, Galsworthy had immediately ordered for the analysis of the Malay kris. It was discovered that there were initials inscribed in the blade: R.D.. As to the significance of these initials I am as clewless as the reader.

Upon our return to the Symphonia house, Galsworthy was struck with a rude interruption. He had received a call put in by a certain Witwatia Diore, a Frenchman. Apparently, an entire level in his mansion had disappeared. It was rather disturbing; there was no indication of fabrication on Diore's part, but Galsworthy was still skeptical.

"Levels," said the inspector, "don't just disappear now and then."

"In normal circumstances, yes," said I, "but we are dealing with a supernatural force."

The inspector scoffed. "I suppose you, too, are skeptical of Dusang's explanations?"

I said nothing. Galsworthy sighed and lit a cigarette, lifting it to his lips. "I still can't understand it."

We visited the Diore house shortly afterwards. It was a beautiful chateau of immense proportions, not dissimilar in design to Dusang's own. It was a splendid monument rising up amongst the foliage, contemplating pensively everything that lay before it. I identified particularly some species of Bibionidae, which buzzed irritably about us, their wings fluttering angrily. The man who stood in front of the house had an almost lion-like mane of golden hair, which was only further enhanced by the great, yellow mutton-chop whiskers that crowned his face. His eyes were startlingly purple, and bizarrely he had on a coonskin cap, which was certainly out of place in this weather. Bowing slightly, the man walked up to us and looked rather apologetic.

"I apologize, messieurs," said this man. "But I am convinced that vanishing floors are not common in this part of New Zealand."

"It isn't," confirmed Galsworthy, "nor will it be anywhere else."

"Ah, bon," said the man, adjusting his cap. "I was afraid that I made the call in vain."

I had no idea if he was joking. Galsworthy merely frowned and gestured at the house. "When did you first report the floor's, ah, disappearance?"

The man, whom I presumed to be Witwatia Diore, said, "It was perhaps only this morning, monsieur inspecteur. I have no idea how it could have happened."

The inspector gazed at the house. "Is this your house, then?"

Diore shook his head. "It belongs to my brother, monsieur."

"And where is your brother now?"

Diore indicated the building. "He is inside, monsieur, with my niece."