Mort p48

Mort stared blankly at the velvet wall hangings a few inches from his eyes.

I’ve walked through a wall, he thought. And that’s impossible.

He gingerly moved the hangings aside to see if a door was lurking somewhere, but there was nothing but crumbling plaster which had cracked away in places to reveal some dampish but emphatically solid brickwork.

He prodded it experimentally. It was quite clear that he wasn’t going back out that way.

***

Mort p48