"Jensen, Jane - Gabriel Knight 02 - The Beast Within" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jensen Jane)

it was happily reunited with a few dozen of its clos-
est relatives.
For the tenth time since dinner he got up and paced
over to the window. Down below, the town of Ritters-
berg should have been asleep, disappearing as its lights
were put out, one by one. But the lights in many of
the homes still shone, the village floating on the dark-
ness. For this reason Gabriel mistakenly deduced that
it was earlier than it actually was, and his self-recrimi-
nation eased just a bit.
Still time to come up with something before bed-
time, or at least assuage the recalcitrant muses with a
show of faith.
Were those flashlights down below?
He'd just put a fresh sheet in the typewriter when
a knock came at the library door. Not surprisingly, it
was Gerde Hull, the only other human being living at
Schloss Ritter. Gerde had served great-uncle Wolf-
gang as housekeeper too—for years, it seemed. Still,
she was a quite attractive blonde, despite her air of
having walked these halls for eons.
Not that he'd noticed.
"Herr Knight? Some people are downstairs to see
you."
"What, now?" The natives had not exactly beaten
a path to his door, even in the light of day.
But Gerde had that serious look on her face. "Yes,
Herr Knight. Will you please come down?"
He leaned back in his chair and studied her.
"What's up? You've been actin' weird all day."
She had, in fact, been gone most of the day, and
when she'd finally served him dinner, her surreptitious
glances had been heavier than the hackbraten.
"Just come downstairs, please. And don't forget
your talisman." She observed its position on the desk
critically. "You should wear it. Always."
"Damn thing's heavy," Gabriel muttered defen-
sively as he slipped the chain over his head. But Gerde
was already gone, pointedly leaving the door open be-
hind her.
Gerde was waiting for him at the castle's front
doors. He joined her at one of the massive handles,
and together they pulled.
He was blinded by the glare of flashlights—a lot of
flashlights. He stole a glance at Gerde as the beams
were being politely redirected. The Determined One
did not look back.
Ah! It overcame him with a wave of deja vu. The
image he was recalling was not an experience of his
own; it was the imprint left by watching too many