‘On the spot. Death occurred exactly at twelve, while he was transmitting a dispatch through the telephone. He was already dead by the time I arrived ten minutes later.’
‘Did someone telegraph me between two and three?’ I asked, my eyes fixed on Joszt’s face.
Those present glanced at one another in amazement.
‘No,’ answered the assistant. ‘That’s out of the question. I entered this room around one o’clock to take over the deceased’s post, and from then on I didn’t leave the premises even for a second. No, stationmaster, neither I nor any other member of the staff used the telegraph tonight.’
‘And yet,’ I said half-aloud, ‘this night between two and three I received a dispatch from Szczytnisk.’
A hollow, stony silence ensued.
Some type of weak, indolent thought was evolving with difficulty into consciousness.
‘The letter!’
I reached into my pocket; I tore open the envelope. The letter was meant for me. This is what Joszt had written:
Ultima Thule, July 13th
Dear Roman, I am to die soon, suddenly. The person whom I saw tonight in my sleep at one of the ruin’s windows was I. Maybe shortly I will fulfill my mission and choose you as an intermediary. You’ll tell people the truth, you’ll bear witness to it. Maybe they’ll believe that there is another world… If I succeed. Farewell! No! Be seeing you—one day on the other side… KAZIMIERZ
For more on Stefan Grabinski, please visit:
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The Motion Demon Page 13