boyutpedia Chapter 41 The Woman Trapped in the Basement
Chapter 41 The Woman Trapped in the Basement
Winston did not fire; the bullet came from behind the woman.
Eileen held an identical revolver in both hands, her posture was quite standard, her arms were outstretched and her movements were stable, clearly showing that she was an experienced shooting player.
Winston admitted he couldn't do that.
He calmly put his gun back in its place and asked, "What's going on?"
"Mental illness."
Eileen said briefly, "She started acting a little strange in the meeting room, and it got worse and worse later."
Next to Eileen was Margaret, the witch's eyes sparkling. Winston was surprised to find that this girl wasn't scared even after witnessing a cult film scene, yet her emotions were usually quite normal, as if every now and then, adrenaline would trigger the fear button in her nerves.
“I noticed it too.” Margaret lowered her voice, her left and right brains clashing with a mixture of excitement and unease. “Her story is very strange. How could a newborn baby whistle? At first, I thought it was some kind of mysterious force at work, but then I thought, there’s a simpler explanation than some unknown demon—what if the storyteller is the problem?”
Winston looked at the two lumps lying on the ground.
One of them was an unidentified woman who had been shot and was now curled up on the ground convulsing. Eileen had accurately hit her thigh, and blood quickly soaked through her expensive woolen skirt, trickling through the cracks in the floor.
Strangely, instead of protecting her bleeding wound, she used her hands to block her ears, her facial muscles contorted in extreme pain. It was less like she was enduring a gunshot wound and more like she was trying to block out noise that no one else could hear.
"Stop blowing...stop blowing..."
She spoke to the voice in her head, sometimes pleading, sometimes threatening.
"Please, I'll kill you... I'll kill you!!"
Winston sighed, looked away, and stared at the other motionless, anonymous corpse beside him.
"He was the middle-aged man who lived next door to that woman." Eileen lowered her gun, gazing sadly at the dried red and white mixture on the back of the dead man's head. "Viscount Hammond was the first to see him. He seemed quite pleased when he returned to the drawing room, perhaps because a long-standing problem had finally been resolved... But who could have imagined that he would meet such an end before dawn?"
As soon as he finished speaking, everyone felt an urge to sigh along with Winston.
"Crunch—"
The next second, the creaking of the door hinges broke the heavy atmosphere, and the Viscountess silently emerged from the shadows of the side door of the corridor.
She wore an extremely loose white silk nightgown, like a dark cloud drifting in from afar, with a slight bulge at the back of the skirt, as if something was hidden inside.
The Viscountess was still wearing a hat, more elaborate than the one seen during the day, with jewels hanging down from the brim like a fence, completely obscuring her face.
"The deceased may not have been unaware of his fate," she said coldly. "Everyone who comes here to attend the salon should have been prepared for an unexpected death."
Eileen immediately sneered and said sarcastically, "Your hospitality is so generous that it's almost overwhelming."
The Viscountess simply looked at her indifferently. Winston stepped forward, standing between them:
"Alright, now is not the time to discuss risk management."
He glanced at the pale, blood-soaked woman on the ground, then frowned at the Viscountess: "I don't want my companion to be branded as someone who 'shot other guests at a party.' Is there anyone here who can give her first aid? Or is the salon's pattern of visitors dying one after another part of its operation?"
You flatter me.
The Viscountess said lightly, "Enid, go get my first aid kit."
"Enid" was the name of the maid who guarded the door. As the most normal person present, she looked like she was about to cry. With red eyes, she responded in a trembling voice, her face pale, and she carefully bypassed the people and corpses on the ground, stumbling and running towards the other end of the corridor.
Eileen watched her retreating figure and said, "Such a big thing happened, and the Viscount still won't come downstairs?"
The Viscountess said, "If you think Charles is a kind-hearted person just because he hosts salons to help you people, you are very wrong. He is always immersed in his own world and has never cared about the outside world."
Despite her terrified state, the maid moved swiftly, and the first-aid kit arrived quickly. The Viscountess did not intend to bend down and do it herself—Winston suspected that it would expose her third leg.
She then summoned an older, more composed maid and instructed her on how to stop the bleeding from the woman on the ground.
During this time, Winston counted the number of people and asked Eileen and Margaret, "Where are the others?"
Even if someone is dead in their sleep, the gunshot just now should have woken them up, right?
Eileen replied, "Besides us, two other groups went home before ten o'clock, and the remaining person is..."
She thought for a moment, then said with a slight unease, "It was Roland Douglas, the man who kept describing a friend of his with a mole on his lower abdomen."
Winston remembered, nodded approvingly at her meticulous description, and, ignoring the Viscountess, asked as if no one else was around:
"Which room is Mr. Douglas staying in?"
Eileen: "I don't know, I haven't spoken to him..."
"He won't sleep tonight." Margaret Lisa, who was observing and learning the first aid procedures of the Viscount's maids, answered while multitasking, "The Viscount's mansion gave him a job, and he went to try it out."
The viscountess, who was not far away, paused and looked over silently.
Winston pretended not to notice and pressed, "What kind of job? How did you know?"
Margaret Lisa looked up, casually tossed a strand of her red hair with feigned gentleness, and said:
"The person standing before you is, after all, a star performer of the Gilded Circus. Mr. Roland Douglas is a fan of mine, and when he first recognized me, he excitedly said to me—"
“Miss Margaret, I’ve always dreamed of seeing you perform at the circus, but unfortunately, due to my friend’s illness, I’ve recently run into some financial difficulties. In a place like London, finding a decent job is harder than climbing to heaven. But please rest assured, once I have the money, I will definitely buy you the most special gift.”
Margaret spoke vividly, perfectly mimicking Roland Douglas's mannerisms.
Winston felt that she was indeed talented in acting.
"However, not long after, when he saw me again, he was so excited that his cheeks were flushed and his whole body was trembling. He rushed over to tell me the good news:"
"Miss Zeller, may the stars bless you! I've found a job! The Viscount's mansion just said they've agreed to hire me. The salary is very generous, and my task is simple: just observe and record a woman trapped in a basement at night."
At this point, Margaret paused briefly, then said almost innocently:
"At the time, I was very curious as to why there would be such a woman in the Viscount's mansion, and why the Viscount would hire someone to observe her?"