“Does the expression ‘the entrance to the labyrinth’ mean anything to you?”

Virgilio tilted his head. “Well, in this case, the labyrinth is the city.”

“Barcelona.”

“The other Barcelona. The Barcelona of the books.”

“A kind of hell.”

“Whatever.”

“And where is the entrance?”

Virgilio shrugged, looking pensive. “A city has a lot of entrances. I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

Alicia nodded. “What about Ariadna? Who is she?”

“Read the book. It’s worth it.”

“Give me a preview.”

“Ariadna is a girl, the protagonist of all the novels in the series. Ariadna was the name of Mataix’s eldest daughter, for whom he presumably wrote the books. The character is a reflection of his daughter. Mataix was also partially inspired by the Alice in Wonderland books, which were his daughter’s favorites. Don’t you find that fascinating?”

“Can’t you see how I’m trembling with emotion?”

“When you behave like this, you’re insufferable.”

“But you do suffer me. That’s why I love you so much. Go on, tell me more.”

“Oh, what a cross I have to bear. Celibate and with even fewer prospects than Le Fanu’s Carmilla . . .”

“The book, Virgilio, back to the book . . .”

“Well, the thing is that Ariadna was Mataix’s Alice, and instead of a Wonderland, he invented a Barcelona of horrors, an infernal town, a nightmare. With every book the backdrop—which is as much a protagonist as Ariadna and the extravagant characters she comes across during her adventures, or perhaps more so—becomes increasingly sinister. The last known book of the series, Ariadna and the Machines of the Averno, published in the middle of the civil war, is about a besieged city that in the end is invaded by the enemy. The resulting carnage makes the fall of Constantinople look like a Laurel and Hardy film.”

“Did you say the last known book?”

“There are those who think that when he disappeared after the war, Mataix was concluding his ninth and last book of the series. In fact, years ago large sums were being offered among book collectors to anyone who could get hold of that manuscript, but as far as I know, it was never found.”

“And how did Mataix disappear?”

Virgilio shrugged. “Barcelona after the war? What better place to disappear?”

“And would it be possible to find more books of this series?”

Virgilio finished his Fanta while he shook his head slowly. “That would be very difficult. About ten or twelve years ago I heard that two or three copies of The Labyrinth were discovered at the bottom of a box in the Cervantes Bookshop in Seville, and they fetched a lot of money. Right now, I’d say the only possibility of finding anything would be in the bookshop of Costa, the antiquarian in Vic, or else in Barcelona. Gustavo Barceló, perhaps, or maybe, if you’re very lucky, at Sempere’s, but I wouldn’t get too excited.”

“Sempere & Sons?”

Virgilio looked at her in surprise. “You know it?”