‘As long as he doesn’t start using my desk as a litter tray.’ After only a brief respite, the little motor began buzzing again as the wheelchair whisked the doctor out of the hall full of ancient weapons, sombre with the weight of time, and carried him into the library.Although he was weak and half suffocated, Muri’s fate was looking up: Frau Hosspield had finally succeeded in removing the string from his neck, and a saucer of soured cream had been placed in the fireplace, right under his nose.‘You can sleep here, little one,’ sighed the housekeeper. ‘You need to rest and get your strength back.’The old spinster went into the enormous kitchen, where the frying pans, the saucepans, the mixers, the grills and the electric ovens had been polished to a maniacal cleanliness over the years. They all knew who was in charge here and worshipped their mistress. The smell of coffee, unrivalled in strength and excellence, began to permeate the rooms with remarkable speed – Frau Hosspield was very good at her job.The cat had barely managed to finish his main course of stuffed fish when Chesterfield arrived.
