Young Frankenstein (5 page)

A short distance along the dim corridor, Frau Blucher halted at a door
.
"This will be your room," she said to Dr
.
Frankenstein, holding up the unlit candelabrum once more to spread its invisible illumination. She then turned the squeaking knob, pushed the door open, and stepped back to allow the others to enter.

The doctor led the way again, followed closely by Inga and Igor. He stopped a few steps into the room. It was cozily lighted by candles in wall sconces. One wall was a mass of books. The furnishings, like those in the entrance chamber, were sturdy and cumbrous-looking and gleamed with the patina that the centuries of human touching had given them. There were heavy draperies at the windows
.

"I hope you will find the room comfortable," Frau Blucher said, entering. "It was your Grandfather Victor's." With a gesture of affection and intimacy, she indicated the portrait that hung just inside the doorway.

"You look a lot like him," Inga told the doctor
.

"Appearances can be deceiving," he replied. He addressed Frau Blucher. "The room seems fine," he said.

Igor put the suitcase and attache case down.

Frau Blucher held out a ring of keys to Dr. Frankenstein
.
"You'll find the keys to all the rooms in my cas- all the rooms in
your
castle, that is, on this ring," she said
.

He reached out.

She placed the ring of keys on a table. "I'll put them here."

"Does that include the key to the
l
a
b
oratory?" the doctor inquired
.

"You mean the la
bor
atory, don't you?"

"Yes
.
The la
bor
atory."

Frau Blucher sighed tragically. "No. The laboratory was destroyed in a fire. Long ago."

The doctor shrugged. "I see." He turned toward the room's library. "There seem to be quite a few books here."

"This was Victor's-I mean, this was the Baron's medical library."

"And where is his special private library?" Dr. Frankenstein asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

Dr. Frankenstein had walked on to the wall of books and was scanning the titles
.
"Well, these are all very general," he explained. "Any doctor might have them in his study." He faced back to Frau Blucher. "I would think that my grandfather, being more than just an ordinary-You know what I mean, I'm sure ..."

"This is the only library I know of, Dr. Franken-stone."

"Fron-kon-steen."

"Mmmm, yes."

"Well, we'll see," Dr. Frankenstein said. "I'll have time to look around."

"Would the
Doktor
care for a brandy before retiring?"

"No, thank you."

"Some warm milk, perhaps?"

"No," Dr. Frankenstein replied edgily. "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

"Ovaltine?"

"Nothing!" he snapped. "Thank you. I'm a little tired."

"Then, I'll show your friends to their rooms," Frau Blucher said.

Igor and Inga turned and stepped out into the corridor
.

Frau Blucher glanced toward the portrait. "Goodnight, darling," she said.

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Frankenstein said.

"Yes, and good-night to you, too,
Herr Doktor,"
she said. Then, departing, she pursed her lips and mimed a kiss to the portrait.

A moment later, the door closed behind her.

Alone, Dr. Frankenstein spent a minute or so studying the portrait of his grandfather
.
There was a resemblance between himself and his ancestor, he decided
.
Basically, Victor Frankenstein had been a damned handsome chap.

The doctor lugged his suitcase to the bed and opened it, and then he began unpacking and putting his clothing away in the drawers of the various chests and in the closet. As he was finishing, he heard a strange musical sound coming from outside
.
Curious, he went to a window and pulled back the heavy drapes and looked out. Nothing and no one. Yet the music continued. He concentrated, trying to locate the source of the sound, then looked upward.

He saw Igor sitting in a window near the top of a turret. The hunchback was blowing a horn. Listening closely, the doctor discovered that the tune was a simple melody, being played over and over again. It was hypnotizing, in a way. It was good, the doctor decided. Not great, of course, but good-really good.

"Not a bad horn player," he said aloud to himself, closing the drapes and turning back into the room.

Fatigue-the aftereffects of the long journey-began to overcome the doctor as he undressed. By the time he got into his nightshirt, he could hardly keep his eyes open. And when he stretched out on the bed, finally, he immediately dropped off into a deep sleep.

It was a short rest, however
.
Very soon, dimly, as if he were still asleep, he became aware of the sound of a violin
.
He tried to ignore it, thinking that, in his subconscious, he was recalling the little old street musician he had met outside the hospital the day that Herr Falkstein had come to read him his grandfather's will. That notion was bolstered by the fact that the music he was hearing now was the same as the music that the old violinist had played, the Transylvanian lullaby.

The doctor spoke out in protest. "I am
not
a Frankenstein. I'm a Fronkonsteen! Don't give me that. I don't believe in fate and I won't say it. I won't, I tell you. I
will not say it."

The words perplexed him. Who was he talking to? And why was he protesting so vehemently?

Suddenly, the tension seeped from his body. He felt marvelously at ease. To his amazement, he heard himself speak again. "All right, all right, all right, you win!" he said. And then, startling himself, he launched into a rousing cheer.

Give me a D

Give me an E

Give me an S

Give me a T

Give me an I

Now, give me an N,

And I mean,

I really want to hear it!

Now, give me a Y

And what have we got?

DES-TI-NY! DES-TI-NY!

No escaping, that's for me!

He was being shaken. Someone had him by the shoulders and was shoving and pulling
.
Who was it? A critic? Surely his performance hadn't been that bad
.

"Dr. Fronkonsteen! Dr. Fronkonsteen-wake up!"

It was Inga's voice.

With effort, he opened his eyes. Inga was standing over him, dressed in a nightgown and robe.

"What is it?" he asked groggily.

"You were having a nightmare," she told him. "You were shouting. You wanted a lot of letters from the alphabet."

"Oh, yes . . ." he said dimly, trying to remember the details. "I heard music," he said. "Strange music. I-" He opened his eyes wide. "I
still
hear it," he said.

"I know. It woke me. Then I heard you calling out. That's why I came to your room."

"Shh!" he said. Then he listened. It was the violin music that he had heard in the nightmare. "Funny," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Who could that be at this hour?" He went to a chaise and picked up his robe from where he had placed it before getting into bed.

"It seems to be coming from behind the books," Inga said.

With the robe on, Dr. Frankenstein went to the wall of books and placed his ear near it. "You're right," he said. "It
does
seem to be coming from behind here." He began looking behind the books. "There's usually a button or a lever or something," he said. "I can't see a thing." He reached back. "Hand me one of those candles, will you?"

"Yes, just a minute. Here, you . .."

Her voice was fading out. Dr. Frankenstein had the sensation that he was moving-yet he knew he was standing still. Then, abruptly, the room was plunged into total darkness
.

"Inga!" he called out
.

"Doctor! Where are you?"

He could barely hear her voice.

"I'm here!" he shouted. "Where are
you?"

"I'm here," she answered
.

"How can you be here?" he called out crossly. "I'm here. If I'm here, then you must be there. Where the devil-"

He suddenly understood what had happened. Without realizing it, he had located the button or lever or whatever and had pushed it or pulled it and the wall had swung around, taking him along with it. Inga was still in the bedroom and he was-Well, wherever he was. He began feeling behind the books again, hoping to accidentally activate the wall mechanism.

"Damn, I wish I had a candle," he said loudly.

Inga answered. "I have it."

"Well, I can't reach it. I'm on the other side of the wall. You might as well put it back."

"Very well, Doctor
.
"

A moment later, he felt himself moving again
.
Yes, the wall was swinging around! There was a sudden brightness. He got a glimpse of Inga. Her robe was open and those big bazooms were fairly reaching out to him. Then, suddenly, total darkness again.

"Oh, hell!" he said.

"Where are you?" Inga called.

"Don't start that again," he said. "Look, it's the candle that does it. But the mechanism has gone haywire or something. I don't want to go all the way around again. Here's what you do: Take the candle out. Then, when I come around your way, I'll jump off and see if I can stop the wall some way."

"All right, Doctor
.
Ready?"

"Ready!"

He was moving again. He saw the light. But suddenly the movement ceased. He was stuck. His head was in the bedroom, but the rest of him was somewhere else.

"Oh, my!" Inga wailed. "You're stuck."

"I know that, damn it!
How
did it happen?"

"I don't know," she wept.

"All right. Now, listen to me carefully
.
Don't do
anything
with the candle. But, with all your might, push on the other end of the bookcases
.
Okay?"

"Yes."

Inga placed the candle on a nearby table. Then she backed off and made a run at the opposite end of the bookshelves. She hit them with a crunch. The doctor felt himself jerked forward. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling across the bedroom floor. He landed against the door, head down and feet up.

"Good girl!" he said, righting himself. "That was per-"

Inga was gone.

"Oh, no! Inga!"

She replied plaintively from the other side of the wall. "Put the candle back, Doctor."

"I guess I'll have to try it."

He picked up the candle and went to the sconce
.
As he was trying to fit the candle into it, out of a corner of his eye he saw the wall jerk
.
Testing, he touched the sconce once more. The wall jerked again. With the system down pat, it was no problem at all to swing the wall back into place. By jerks, he delivered Inga from the darkness.

"The question is," he said to her when she was free, "what's behind there? I couldn't see, could you?"

She shook her head. "It was too dark."

"We've got to find out. I couldn't sleep, not knowing
.
" He went back to the sconce and began tapping it with the candle again. "Let me know when it's open wide enough."

"A little more ... a little more . . . there, that's it!"

Dr. Frankenstein walked to the opening and peered into the darkness. "Can't see a thing," he said. "I better open it wider."

"It's better to light one little candle in the darkness," she said.

"That's a nice thought."

The doctor got a lighted candle from another sconce, then returned to the opening and eased his way through it
.
In the light he could see a doorway, and, just beyond it, the beginning of a stairs.

"I'm going down," he said. "That music-it's coming from down there."

Inga clutched at him. "Let me come with you, Doctor, please! I don't want to stay up here alone!"

"All right-quietly, though."

Together, they went through the doorway and began the descent.

Cobwebs brushed their faces.

"Ughhh!" Inga said.

Dr. Frankenstein raised the candle higher and they could see the stairwell walls, crawling with a greenish fungus. The dense darkness ahead seemed to be infinite
.
But they knew they would come to an end eventually, for the music continued to drift up to them from below, and they were certain that it was being produced by some human like themselves.

A huge rat appeared on a ledge.

Inga squealed in fright.

The rat scampered off.

Inga clutched the doctor's arm. "I'm afraid!"

"Do you want to go back?"

"Yes."

"Then, go on."

"I'm afraid."

"Forward it is, then," he said.

Again, they descended
.
The steps became slick with slime. The walls were dankly dripping with dampness.

"All these old houses have leaky basements," Dr. Frankenstein said. "The way to fix them is to-Oh-oh. What have we here?"

They had reached a landing. There was a door. The music seemed to be coming from beyond it.

"This is it, I think," the doctor said. "I'm going in. Coming?"

"Right behind you, Doctor
.
"

He grasped the doorknob firmly-and it crumbled to dust in his hand.

"Let's just hope it's not stuck, too," Dr. Frankenstein said.

He put his weight against the door. It gave, then, complaining loudly, swung away. At that same instant, the music stopped.

"I think we touched a nerve," the doctor whispered to Inga.

"What?"

"Shop talk," he told her.

With the doctor holding the candle high again, they advanced. They could see that they were in a large room, but the details were unclear, shrouded in murky dimness. Then all at once the light fell on a skull.