The Landlady
“Mr. Mulholland liked a cup of tea,” she said. “I have never seen any one drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr. Mulholland. Never In my life.”
“I suppose he left quite recently,” Billy said. He was still thinking about the two names. He was sure he had seen them in the newspapers.
“Left?” she said, surprised. “But my dear boy, he never left. He’s still here. Mr. Temple is also here. They’re on the third floor together.”
Billy put down his cup slowly on the table and stared at his landlady. She smiled at him, and then she put one of her white hands and patted him on his knee. “How old are you, my dear?” she asked.
“Seventeen.”
"Seventeen" she cried. "Oh, it's a perfect age. Mr. Mulholland was also seventeen. But I think he was shorter than you are, and his teeth weren't quite so white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr. Weaver, did you know that?" “They’re not as good as they look, Billy said.
"Mr. Temple, of course, was a little older," she said. "He was actually twenty-eight. But he didn't look twenty-eight. There wasn't a blemish on his body."
“A what?” Billy said.
“A mark, my dear, there wasn’t a mark. His skin was just like a baby’s”
Billy picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea. He waited for her to say something else, but she was silent. He sat and stared into the far corner of the room, biting his lower lip.
“That parrot,” he said at last. “You know something? When I first saw it, I thought it was alive.”
“Alas, no longer.”
“It’s terribly clever,” he said. “It doesn’t look the least bit dead. Who did it?” “I did.”
“You did?”
“Of course,” she said “And have you met my little Basil as well?” She nodded towards the dachshund in front of the fire.
Billy looked at it. He put out his hand and touched it on top of its back. It was cold and hard.
“Good gracious me”, he said. “How absolutely fascinating. It must be awfully difficult to do a thing like that. “Not in the least”, she said. “I stuff all my little pets myself when they die. Would you like another cup of tea?” “No, thank you,” Billy said. The tea tasted strange and he didn’t like it much. “You signed the book, didn’t you? Its necessary because later on, if I forget your name, I can look it up. I still do that with Mr. Mulholland and Mr....Mr.... “Temple”, Billy said. “Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven’t there been any other guests here except them in the last two years?”
Holding her teacup high in one hand, she looked at him and gave a gentle smile. “No, my dear,” she said. “Only you.”
The Landlady
“Mr. Mulholland liked a cup of tea,” she said. “I have never seen any one drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr. Mulholland. Never In my life.”
“I suppose he left quite recently,” Billy said. He was still thinking about the two names. He was sure he had seen them in the newspapers.
“Left?” she said, surprised. “But my dear boy, he never left. He’s still here. Mr. Temple is also here. They’re on the third floor together.”
Billy put down his cup slowly on the table and stared at his landlady. She smiled at him, and then she put one of her white hands and patted him on his knee. “How old are you, my dear?” she asked.
“Seventeen.”
"Seventeen" she cried. "Oh, it's a perfect age. Mr. Mulholland was also seventeen. But I think he was shorter than you are, and his teeth weren't quite so white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr. Weaver, did you know that?" “They’re not as good as they look, Billy said.
"Mr. Temple, of course, was a little older," she said. "He was actually twenty-eight. But he didn't look twenty-eight. There wasn't a blemish on his body."
“A what?” Billy said.
“A mark, my dear, there wasn’t a mark. His skin was just like a baby’s”
Billy picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea. He waited for her to say something else, but she was silent. He sat and stared into the far corner of the room, biting his lower lip.
“That parrot,” he said at last. “You know something? When I first saw it, I thought it was alive.”
“Alas, no longer.”
“It’s terribly clever,” he said. “It doesn’t look the least bit dead. Who did it?” “I did.”
“You did?”
“Of course,” she said “And have you met my little Basil as well?” She nodded towards the dachshund in front of the fire.
Billy looked at it. He put out his hand and touched it on top of its back. It was cold and hard.
“Good gracious me”, he said. “How absolutely fascinating. It must be awfully difficult to do a thing like that. “Not in the least”, she said. “I stuff all my little pets myself when they die. Would you like another cup of tea?” “No, thank you,” Billy said. The tea tasted strange and he didn’t like it much. “You signed the book, didn’t you? Its necessary because later on, if I forget your name, I can look it up. I still do that with Mr. Mulholland and Mr....Mr.... “Temple”, Billy said. “Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven’t there been any other guests here except them in the last two years?”
Holding her teacup high in one hand, she looked at him and gave a gentle smile. “No, my dear,” she said. “Only you.”
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