The Silence Of The Library

Mrs. Eden accepted the tea gratefully and began to sip at it. Veronica took her own cup and began to drink. The tea was strong—stronger, in fact, than she normally liked—but as she was so thirsty, she drank down the first cup and quickly poured herself a second.

There was a plate of sandwiches, and Veronica selected one and placed it on a small dish, which she then proffered to Mrs. Eden. Her hostess waved it limply away. “The tea is enough for now.”

Veronica nodded. “Please continue when you feel you can.” She picked up the sandwich, but it seemed heavy. Veronica frowned. She felt so sleepy all of a sudden. She was rather tired, she thought. Maybe more tea would revive her.

The cup never reached her mouth, for Veronica could no longer fight off the waves of exhaustion that engulfed her. The plate with its sandwich slipped to the floor as Veronica fell soundly asleep.

TWENTY-TWO

I smiled as I finished the second chapter. Poor Veronica. I wondered idly how many times during the course of the series she had been drugged or hit on the head. She got tied up a few times, too, as I recalled. Being a feisty girl detective had the occasional drawback.

I turned the page.

From somewhere far distant Veronica heard a gentle voice. It seemed to be calling her name. “Ronnie, oh dear Ronnie, please do wake up. Can you hear me at all?”

Veronica wanted to answer that she could hear, but an overwhelming darkness surrounded her. She tried to open her eyes. The eyelids refused to obey. They felt heavy and lifeless. She struggled, determined to open them, and at last her eyelids moved.

Where was she? Veronica had no idea of her location or what was wrong with her. Why did she feel like every part of her body was too heavy to move?

“I hear y-you,” she managed to croak. Her throat was dry, painfully so. “W-w-water, p-please.”

A gentle hand slid behind her head and lifted it slightly. Her eyelids closed again, but she felt light pressure against her lips.

“Here’s the water, dearest, open your mouth just a little for me.”

Veronica knew that voice, knew that it belonged to someone who meant her no harm. But who was this ministering angel?

She managed a few sips of water, and her throat felt better. Next she felt a damp cloth on her forehead, and she welcomed the cooling effect. She began to revive, but with agonizing slowness.

“Where am I?” she whispered. She forced her eyelids open, and in the dim light she began to recognize the familiar outlines of her own room. “I’m home?”

“Yes, dearest, you are,” the voice responded tenderly. “You are safe where you belong, with your dear guardian and your devoted friends. It’s me, darling, Lucy.”