Free The Avenger 33 - The Blood Countess by Kenneth Robeson Page B

the girl’s aid, but since he no longer trusted Erika, he stayed where he was.
    The flashlight, suddenly blazing back on, caught him at the end of its beam.
    There was a gun in the blond girl’s hand, pointed at Cole.
    He had drawn his pistol while dangling by one hand in the dark. “Sorry you find me in this awkward position, Miss Mowler,” he said. “However, you’ll note I have you covered in much the same way you have me covered. Which results in what is commonly known as a standoff.”
    “You clown!” She threw the flashlight at him.
    It smashed against the stone wall above his head, and the light died.
    Erika ran upstairs for the door. She yanked it open, dived into the hall, and slammed the door.
    Cole, having to be cautious in the dark, went up the stairs somewhat more slowly than the girl had. “You should have been suspicious once you saw these stairs, Wilson,” he told himself as he felt his way upward. “Don’t you remember they tried to do the same thing to Freddie Bartholomew in a movie once?”
    He found the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open. Nobody shot in at him. He waited a few seconds longer and then stepped into the hallway.
    There was a girl standing ten feet away, but it wasn’t Erika.
    Cole holstered his pistol. “Miss Bentin?”
    Elizabeth nodded, puzzled. “Yes, but I don’t—”
    “I’m Cole Wilson, friend of Dick Benson,” he said. “Have you seen Miss Mowler?”
    “Yes . . . but I don’t understand what’s going on. She ran along the hall . . . and then she stepped through the wall.”
    Cole approached the pretty, dark-haired girl. “Walked through it? Like a spook, or through a secret door?”
    “Oh, there was nothing magical about it, Mr. Wilson,” said Elizabeth, gesturing at the wall. “A section of the wall right here swung open. There are a good many hidden passages in this old castle. But what was Erika—”
    “She was running away from me,” explained Cole. “After an unsuccessful attempt to kill me.”
    “My God . . . Erika wouldn’t . . .” She stopped talking for a moment and shook her head. “Yes, I guess she would, the way she looked when I happened down here. And she was carrying a gun.”
    “Did you notice how she opened the wall?”
    “No, it was already opening as I came downstairs.”
    This wall was papered with an autumnal-patterned paper. Looking closely at the paper, Cole spotted the thin lines that outlined the concealed door. There was a lamp mounted on the wall and a framed oil painting of a whiskered man riding a white horse.
    “Well, I’ll have to put the full thrust of my deductive powers to work. Or is it inductive powers I have?” He rapped on the wall with his knuckles. “Yep, hollow.”
    “But . . . what reason . . . why did she try to kill you?”
    He took hold of the glass pendant dangling from the wall lamp and tugged it. Nothing happened. “It’s been my experience, Miss Bentin, that most people who try to do me in—except for an occasional fanatic who doesn’t appreciate my puckish sense of humor—most of them want to do it because I’m a member of Justice, Inc.”
    “Erika’s been taking care of me, she helped me get out of Europe.”
    “Made a good cover for her, didn’t it?” He tried twisting the base of the lamp. Which brought no results.
    “You mean . . . Yes, I guess that would make sense. Erika’s one of them.”
    “The world isn’t in very good shape right now. Unfortunately, people who aren’t one of us often turn out to be one of them.” He lifted the painting off its hook to feel the wall beneath it. He pulled at the the hook. The wall stayed closed.
    “If Erika is a German agent,” said the girl, “she must have done something to Dick.”
    “Yes, but let’s hope she stopped short of killing him.”
    “I’m a jinx,” said Elizabeth. “Everyone who tries to help me . . . they only get hurt.”
    “Stay away from generalizations like that,” Cole told her. “I’m trying