“It didn’t matter,” cried the man, “it didn’t, matter?.. Matter?”
His eyes widened at the thought of lunacy entangled within the web, perhaps he would have been better off crawling through the cluster of stars in search of the cause. But no, what the matter was, is the concern at the moment. Could it have come at the moment of his lucid interaction at the thought of absence. That would explain his momentary laps of abjuration and if that is the case then he was certain to abscond and away himself into obscurity.
“Wait, wait!” He shook his head, long, curly locks of hair danced across his face as he did so. In a hurried, fluid movement he moved across the room to a small side table. There sat a large, bulbous, lantern, illuminating the small room with a soft, gentle light that would flicker ever so delicately. There he lifted up the note that had so diligently ruptured his mental faculties.
The lamp light was giving the sheet of paper a warm glow as he read through it again.
“No! No, I will not!” He let the paper drift from his hand back onto the rich, walnut tone of the table, there It rested over the edge of a neatly woven quilt that was beneath the lamp.
Now briskly he turned back to the figure that was sitting in a large, red, velvet chair. For a long moment he studied the chair and the way the fire light danced about the area. Then finally he moved to the gentleman casually, “I say, ol’ boy.” Hesitation took him for a moment before he could continue, “That was such a long time ago. Perhaps we could re-word the contract?” Though he was sincere in his question the undertone of trembling was there.
The gentleman who sat in the red Velvet chair looked up to him, seeing a drop of sweat take form upon his forehead. “Sir,” he spoke soft but firm as he rose from the chair, “You understood it then and you understand it now. The full amount is due… This night.”
At this the man’s face paled and he stepped away from the chair, “This is a joke of some sort, is it not!?” He turned with wide eyes looking for something, anything, and then he saw it. A round brass ball that sat on a thick wooden coaster. It was set there to support a few books that were no longer on the shelf. Quickly he made his move, grabbing the ball and turning abruptly to bash it into the other fellow’s skull.
But the fellow was gone.
He froze and as he did, the ball dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a loud thud, and there it would sit atop a lovely, decorative rug from the orient.
Then the voice came, “Mr. Spindle, I assure you, I do not joke about my contracts. Goods have been passed and you have enjoyed them, and lavishly I might add. Now without further ado, my butler will direct you to your private room. Do enjoy your stay… Mr. Spindle.”
Mr. Spindle spun himself in a quick circle, but no one was there. Then suddenly from the fire a burning man leaped out and gripped him by the shoulders and looked into his terrified face. Mr. Spindle, looked into those burning eyes and let out such a scream that the cold window split at the frame with a sharp crack, and the two of them disappeared into the fireplace.
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