"Master Cain!" No answer. Riff hurried across the rug-covered hardwood floor to the Count's room, where he found the door partially open. He looked inside, and saw what he knew he would: the black-haired Count was bent over his desk, mixing powders and liquids in a small porcelain bowl. Half-filled bottles labeled with long names stood on the desk where he was working.
As Riff approached, the Count looked up at the window in front of him, seeing the reflection of his valet drawing nearer. "Stay back, Riff," he said in a cautionary tone. "I'm mixing a poison. It has no name, just like it has no odor – and it tastes like water. This is the antidote." He held up a bottle full of clear fluid. "It also has no taste or odor. Just once is all it takes – ingest the poison once, and you have to take the antidote for the rest of your life. As long as you do, you will show no symptoms, but if you stop taking the antidote, your heart will slowly give out over a period of about four months. The only other family that has this kind of poison is the Andrews family, so I've heard; I have never met any of them."
"Ah, Master Cain, your poisons are interesting, but there's someone waiting at the door."
"What does he want?"
"I'm not sure, he acted a bit strangely – he just said he had a message for someone, and that he would like to come in."
"Not the politest man, is he? Well, tell him to come in here – I'm almost done."
"Yes, Master Cain." The slightly older man walked out of the room, and returned a few moments later with a man in a long, dark-brown overcoat with a high collar.
The man extended his hand toward Cain, disregarding the usual formalities. "Nice to meet you, my Lord. I am Dr. Ivan Andrews."
The Count hesitated for a split-second before reaching out and shaking the hand assuredly. "And you already know me, I am sure."
The man grinned slightly and nodded, making his shoulder-length hair, which matched his coat, fall out from where it had been hidden by his collar.
"So, what have you come here for?"
"I have a message for a man named Riff… my Lord." The honorific "my Lord" was belated this time; Dr. Andrews almost sneered as he said it.
Cain pretended not to notice, but Riff spoke up, earning himself a hard look from the doctor. "Couldn't you have just given me the message at the door?"
The doctor smiled for a second time, but this time his smile did not seem so self-confident. "Well… yes, I suppose I could have at that. In any case, here is my message. I must be going." He stuffed a tri-folded piece of paper into Riff's hand, then walked off before another word could be said – it was clear that he was holding himself back, trying not to walk towards the door too quickly, trying to look calm. He failed. Miserably.
The Count stared after him, chuckling silently. When he looked back at Riff, his manservant was reading the letter with an odd expression on his face. "What is it, Riff?"
"A desperate attempt not to look suspicious."
"So I noticed. What does the letter say?"
He handed the unfolded paper to Cain and the Count began to read aloud:
Riff,
Your parents have fallen sick. I am their doctor, and they have contracted a very rare heart condition about which only heart specialists like me are taught. Their hearts will slowly grow weaker during the next four months until they can no longer function, and your parents die. The only medication for this is very rare – Count Cain has some in his collection, but he will not sell or give his poisons or other mixtures to anyone, as you already know; he does not trust their intents. Find a bottle with red, opaque liquid, the color of blood. It will be labeled "Acesulfame." Just take some from his shelves, and bring it to your parent's house tomorrow – I'll be there, ready to start treating them. It is very important that you do this – otherwise, your parents will die. It would also be a bad idea to show this letter to Count Cain – as you know, he is most protective of his poisons.
- Ivan Andrews
Before he was halfway through reading it, the Count barked a laugh, and a smile grew on his face as he continued to read, until, at the end of the letter, he began to laugh out loud.
"Where's Merryweather?" he asked, trying to make his face look serious.
Riff didn't ask what the Count had found so funny – he knew his questions about the strange letter would be answered in due time. "In the kitchen," he said. "I gave her a piece of cake; she should be finished with it soon."
The Count nodded, still trying to hide his amusement. "The symptoms of that alleged 'heart condition' are exactly those of the poison I described to you earlier. This man calls himself Ivan Andrews – the Andrews family is the only other family which owns any of that poison, and Acesulfame is a deadly poison which kills a person by filling their lungs – and thereby drowning them – with their own blood. He probably wanted to come in instead of giving you the message at the door because he wanted to see where I store my poisons – the Andrews family has always envied the Hargreaves' extensive collection. He can't have had much experience doing things like this – his letter was sloppily planned and he didn't perform very well during his visit, but I think he's after something more than just a few vials of poison."
"So… Master Cain, what do we do now? If he's poisoned my parents… they're the only blood relatives I have left after my brother died." The rest of his thoughts went without saying.
Cain looked up. "Now, we pay a visit to your parents. Tell one of the servants to look after Merryweather, then get my coat."
As Riff approached, the Count looked up at the window in front of him, seeing the reflection of his valet drawing nearer. "Stay back, Riff," he said in a cautionary tone. "I'm mixing a poison. It has no name, just like it has no odor – and it tastes like water. This is the antidote." He held up a bottle full of clear fluid. "It also has no taste or odor. Just once is all it takes – ingest the poison once, and you have to take the antidote for the rest of your life. As long as you do, you will show no symptoms, but if you stop taking the antidote, your heart will slowly give out over a period of about four months. The only other family that has this kind of poison is the Andrews family, so I've heard; I have never met any of them."
"Ah, Master Cain, your poisons are interesting, but there's someone waiting at the door."
"What does he want?"
"I'm not sure, he acted a bit strangely – he just said he had a message for someone, and that he would like to come in."
"Not the politest man, is he? Well, tell him to come in here – I'm almost done."
"Yes, Master Cain." The slightly older man walked out of the room, and returned a few moments later with a man in a long, dark-brown overcoat with a high collar.
The man extended his hand toward Cain, disregarding the usual formalities. "Nice to meet you, my Lord. I am Dr. Ivan Andrews."
The Count hesitated for a split-second before reaching out and shaking the hand assuredly. "And you already know me, I am sure."
The man grinned slightly and nodded, making his shoulder-length hair, which matched his coat, fall out from where it had been hidden by his collar.
"So, what have you come here for?"
"I have a message for a man named Riff… my Lord." The honorific "my Lord" was belated this time; Dr. Andrews almost sneered as he said it.
Cain pretended not to notice, but Riff spoke up, earning himself a hard look from the doctor. "Couldn't you have just given me the message at the door?"
The doctor smiled for a second time, but this time his smile did not seem so self-confident. "Well… yes, I suppose I could have at that. In any case, here is my message. I must be going." He stuffed a tri-folded piece of paper into Riff's hand, then walked off before another word could be said – it was clear that he was holding himself back, trying not to walk towards the door too quickly, trying to look calm. He failed. Miserably.
The Count stared after him, chuckling silently. When he looked back at Riff, his manservant was reading the letter with an odd expression on his face. "What is it, Riff?"
"A desperate attempt not to look suspicious."
"So I noticed. What does the letter say?"
He handed the unfolded paper to Cain and the Count began to read aloud:
Riff,
Your parents have fallen sick. I am their doctor, and they have contracted a very rare heart condition about which only heart specialists like me are taught. Their hearts will slowly grow weaker during the next four months until they can no longer function, and your parents die. The only medication for this is very rare – Count Cain has some in his collection, but he will not sell or give his poisons or other mixtures to anyone, as you already know; he does not trust their intents. Find a bottle with red, opaque liquid, the color of blood. It will be labeled "Acesulfame." Just take some from his shelves, and bring it to your parent's house tomorrow – I'll be there, ready to start treating them. It is very important that you do this – otherwise, your parents will die. It would also be a bad idea to show this letter to Count Cain – as you know, he is most protective of his poisons.
- Ivan Andrews
Before he was halfway through reading it, the Count barked a laugh, and a smile grew on his face as he continued to read, until, at the end of the letter, he began to laugh out loud.
"Where's Merryweather?" he asked, trying to make his face look serious.
Riff didn't ask what the Count had found so funny – he knew his questions about the strange letter would be answered in due time. "In the kitchen," he said. "I gave her a piece of cake; she should be finished with it soon."
The Count nodded, still trying to hide his amusement. "The symptoms of that alleged 'heart condition' are exactly those of the poison I described to you earlier. This man calls himself Ivan Andrews – the Andrews family is the only other family which owns any of that poison, and Acesulfame is a deadly poison which kills a person by filling their lungs – and thereby drowning them – with their own blood. He probably wanted to come in instead of giving you the message at the door because he wanted to see where I store my poisons – the Andrews family has always envied the Hargreaves' extensive collection. He can't have had much experience doing things like this – his letter was sloppily planned and he didn't perform very well during his visit, but I think he's after something more than just a few vials of poison."
"So… Master Cain, what do we do now? If he's poisoned my parents… they're the only blood relatives I have left after my brother died." The rest of his thoughts went without saying.
Cain looked up. "Now, we pay a visit to your parents. Tell one of the servants to look after Merryweather, then get my coat."