Chapter 13.
The man of semi-short stature sat in a chair across the desk of one of her majesty's ministers of trade. His normally thin mustache had grown somewhat out of hand. His skin was pale as though he had been locked in a cellar for many weeks. He was dressed in fine clothes and wore a bowler hat. In his very still hand he held walking cane with the head of a cat. The cat had one ear. The man across from the desk specialized in administering the private trades and exchanges of the royal family. His time was precious and was never to be wasted. Normally he was a very stern and serious man but on this occasion he felt it necessary to express his gratitude.
"So Mr.?"
"Cunningham," the slightly diminutive man replied coldly.
"You can promise delivery of these by the specified date?"
"Yes."
"Her majesty is more than happy with your offer. Soon she will be having a reception for some delegates from that part of Europe and would like to surprise them with a little flavor from the countryside. Of course she wanted to use some less obvious channels or else they might find out and the surprise lost." The man signed off on some papers and handed them to Cunningham. "As for the request made by your employer, here is the list of different properties that matched his description."
He instinctively perused the list. His eyes suddenly fell upon one in particular, Carfax Abbey. Beside the name was the information of Peter Hawkins, an estate agent in Essex.
Cunningham suddenly lifted his hand and slipped it underneath his raised collar. He felt two small puncture wounds palpitating. In his mind he could hear a voice speaking to him. "Not yet," the voice said.
"What was the name of your employer?"
Cunningham spoke in a trance like voice, "Dracula, Count Dracula."