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ust Keep Out。〃 The slip road； a little further on； was also marked； and； taking it； they found themselves descending towards the river； down a narrow road which zigzagged perilously； then plunged into a dark thicket of pine trees； emerging alongside the river； then turning until the castle was lowering down on them。 Its mountainous walls appeared to be leaning in against the sky that strange optical illusion made when clouds move as you look up at tall buildings。
‘Makes you wonder how many people died when they put this place together。〃 Fredericka made no attempt to disguise her awe。
‘Certainly puts the building of the pyramids to shame。〃 He eased the car forward。 The road narrowed； leading to a small bridge which opened on to a stone turning circle directly in front of a pair of magnificent arched doors reaching up for something like thirty feet。
They were old； but their immense brass hinges and fitments gleamed as though they were polished regularly； and the doors themselves were also slick with some kind of wood preserver。
‘I wonder how you attract attention。 Is there a bell pull？ Does Igor e shuffling out？〃 As Fredericka spoke； the doors began to move； swinging back to reveal an open courtyard。
‘I think they already know we're here。〃 Bond took the car slowly through the gates and into the courtyard that contained two Range Rovers； a black Merc and a sleek Lexus。 He pulled in beside the Lexus； the gates closed behind them； and he took a quick look at the surroundings。 Three sides of this parking entrance looked like a classic monastic cloister； plete with arches and gargoyles。 The wall facing them was cloistered； but split in two where a set of long stone steps ran up to another vast door： this one looking vaguely Victorian； plete with stained…glass panels。
As they climbed out； a butler； plete in tail coat； and two younger men in green livery； appeared from the doorway and descended on the car； opening the boot and removing luggage with the expertise of a pair of thieves。
‘Wele to Schloss Drache； sir…madam。〃 The butler was essentially English； from the tone of his voice to the way he moved and directed his underlings。 The whole thing smacked of a time quite out of joint； like stepping back into a long dead era。
‘If you will e this way； the master is waiting for you in the library。〃 He ushered them into a hallway which smelled of polished wood； and Bond had an immediate impression of trophies in glass cases； stags' heads mounted high on the walls； and some oil paintings which looked suspiciously like genuine Turners。
The butler led them up a small flight of steps an along a corridor lined with pictures； but these were more recognizable。 Again they were oil paintings but their subjects were well known to even the most casual observer for they were all portraits of great actors and actresses； not from a time long gone by； but from the immediate past； or the present。 He spotted Orson Welles； Olivier； Richardson； Gielgud； Jimmy Stewart； John Wayne； Monroe and a host of others； stage and screen mixed together in stunning colours。
The corridor led directly into a long； airy room lined with tier upon tier of books； all beautifully bound in leather； arranged by colour； so that there was an extraordinary illusion that you were looking at walls slashed with a rainbow。 At the far end of the room； tall； leaded windows caught rays of light which seemed to fall in a prearranged pattern； catching Bond and Fredericka in cones of blinding brightness； so that； for a moment； they both blinked； Fredericka raising her hand to protect her eyes。
Then； almost as quickly as the light had caught them so it disappeared； leaving only a faint trace of real sunshine shafting in through the huge windows。
‘Wele； Mr Bond； and you also； Fraulein von Grusse。〃 The voice was distinctive； with only a trace of David Dragonpol's true voice。
He stood directly behind a large globe which looked like a theatrical prop。 One hand touched the globe； while the other rested at his waist。 He was quite unrecognizable。 Long； full dark hair fell to his shoulders； though in reality everyone knew that the man's hair was light； almost sandy in colour。 The nose； usually so patrician； was now hooked and beaky； making him look like a predatory bird。 Deepset eyes seemed to glow like burning coals； and his lips were twisted into a deformed curl； like an S lying on its side。 He wore a black doublet and hose； the doublet slashed in gold and a huge medallion of a boar's head hung on a golden chain around his neck。
The hand on the globe was more claw than hand； the fingernails long； curling and obscene； while rings of gold； sparkling with jewels； seemed to weigh down the almost skeletal fingers。
‘It's good to see you here。〃 The voice was now pletely unrecognizable。 ‘If you have not realized it already； I am Richard of Gloucester。
Richard the Third of England。〃 ‘Barking mad；' Bond whispered； but obviously not softly enough。
‘Woof…woof！〃 said the apparition before it began to laugh； a hideous cackling sound that sent a chill down Bond's back and made Fredericka grasp for his hand； digging her nails into his flesh in fear。
‘Richard's himself again；' screamed the strange creature； and with that he struck the globe which began to turn rapidly； making a heavy clunking sound with each revolution。
CHAPTER TEN
SCHLOSS DRACHE
The cackle turned into a soft laugh。 The strange creature's hands moved； closing together； and the long…taloned fingers gripped the wrists； one after the other； seeming to snap off the skin； bone and nails。 Now； latex gloves dangled from the fingertips of one hand； while the other moved upwards to rip the long black hair from his head。
The body appeared to change before their eyes； straightening up； growing。
‘Oh； I'm so sorry； but I couldn't resist that。 You should have seen your faces。 My name's David Dragonpol。 Fraulein von Grusse and Mr Bond； wele to Schloss Drache。
He fiddled with his nose； pulling off the putty which had shaped the strange crooked beak。 Half revealed before them was Dragonpol himself。 Even the voice had returned to normal。
‘You see； Hort fancies herself as a painter； and I'm posing for her。 She has this idea that oil paintings of me in my best roles will look well in one of the museum rooms。 I can't say I ；agree with her。
Hort； e and meet our guests。
They followed his eyes and for the first time saw a woman seated behind an easel set in a kind of niche to one side of the long book…laden left…hand wall。 Putting down her palette； she rose gracefully…a poised hostess； dressed in paint…daubed jeans and a T…shirt； the front of which carried the words ‘Go For It！ Life is not a dress rehearsal。〃 She came towards them with a smile and a hand held out to be either kissed or shaken。
‘Maeve Horton；' she introduced herself。 ‘We spoke on the telephone； Mr Bond。〃 Her hand was cucumber cool and the wide dark eyes seemed to be visibly stripping Bond of his clothes。 She was very tall； almost a full six feet； with the slim agile body of a dancer； and a face which had the clear skin and regular features of an Irish girl。 ‘I'd have talked for longer if I'd know