“Come with me,” said Charon.

“Come, young masters. I’ll show you where the old Duke lies. May God rest his soul.”

I walked beside him, the boys following. They were unusually solemn.

No doubt they felt as I did-that we were in the presence of Death.

Dagobert said: “Have you found someone to train to take your place, Franz?”

“I’m all alone on the Island as I have been these many years,” was the answer.

“I do wonder who’s going to look after all these dead people when you’re dead too.”

“It will be solved,” said Charon.

“All these dead people,” mused Dagobert.

“They do want someone to look after them. I reckon everyone would be afraid to live here except you, Franz. Are you afraid?”

“The dead have been my companions too long for me to fear them, master.”

“Would you like to be here alone when it’s dark, Fritz?” demanded Dagobert. Fritz hesitated and Dagobert accused him: “You know you wouldn’`t. You’d be frightened. You’d scream when all the ghosts got out of their tombs.”

“You know you wouldn’`t like to be here alone after dark either, Dagobert,” I said, ‘and as neither of you is going to be, there’s no point in talking about it. “

“I wouldn’`t mind,” boasted Dagobert.

“I’d sit on the gravestones and I’d say ” Come out and see me. I’m not afraid of you! “

“And you would be just like the rest of us,” I told him.

“Perhaps they’re afraid too,” said Fritz.

“I wouldn’`t like to be down in the ground with a lot of earth on top of me.”

“That’s no way to talk,” I admonished.

“Those flowers are very beautiful.”

“Planted only a few hours after His Grace was laid to rest,” said Franz.

We had come to the grand avenue and there was the new grave covered with flowers. The grand effigies and statues had not yet been erected.

The boys stood and gazed solemnly at it.

“Do people ever get buried who are not dead?” asked Dagobert.

“What a question! Who would bury people before they were dead?” I said lightly.

“Some people have been buried alive. In monasteries they used to put them in a wall and build round them.”

“Now you`’ve seen the Duke’s grave. Wouldn’`t you like to visit your mothers’?”

They would naturally do so and we left the grand burial ground for that other. Charon accompanied us; he looked as one would imagine the boatman of the Styx with his black robes napping round him and grey locks straggling out from under his skullcap-a messenger of Death.

“I want you to be careful of the new grave,” he said.

“A new grave!” Dagobert’s eyes sparkled.

“Whose grave?”

“I dug it this morning,” said Charon.

“May we see it?” asked Fritz.

Charon pointed.

“It’s close by. There are wooden planks across it.”

“May we see it?” asked Fritz.

“Young masters, be careful. Don’t go falling down. Why, you could break a leg.”

They were eager to see. I followed them over to the grave and Charon lifted the planks and we looked down into the deep dark hole.

I felt the goose pimples rise on my skin. I suppose it was due to the thought that soon a coffin would be lowered down there and another life would be over. I felt, as they say at home, that someone was walking over my grave.

“Who is to be buried there?” I asked.

“A young woman,” replied Charon shaking his head.

“Too young to die.

She’s the daughter of the innkeeper in the town. “

I knew who she was then-another of those unfortunate women. The Count had favoured her for a short while and then discarded her. I knew that she had taken her own life and the favour shown her had led her, as it had led others before her, to the Island of Graves.

I felt a great desire to get away from the place.

All that day the tension seemed to be mounting. I was waiting for I knew not what. Of one thing I was certain. This state of affairs could not last. I was listening for the sound of a horse’s hoofs on the road. Maximilian might come. How I longed for him-not only for the joy his presence always gave me, but because I desperately wished to tell him of my mounting fears. And if the sounds from without should be those of a carriage and there should be an imperative demand from the Count that the children should leave, what should I do? I would not go and yet how could I allow Fritz to go without me? My mind was working on wild plans to keep Fritz behind. I must pretend he was ill.

No, that would not work again. But I must find a way.

“My goodness,” said Frau Graben.

“You’re all of a jump.”

“I’m thinking of the Count’s taking the children.”

“I tell you he daren’t. The Countess wouldn’`t have it-particularly now there’s this fresh scandal. That girl of his, the innkeeper’s daughter, she was to have a child and she has taken her life.”

“I saw her grave freshly dug,” I said.

“Poor soul! It’s the end for her. And what a way to die. She threw herself from the topmost attic of the inn into her father’s courtyard.

They say he found her there. He’s nigh demented. She was his only child. “

“What a terrible tragedy!”

“She was a fool. He would have taken care of her and the child even though he was tired of her. There would have been another little one to join us. These poor girls. It’s so romantic in the beginning and then there’s the reckoning.”

“But not for him,” I said angrily.

“Fredy looks upon it as his right. And she knew that from the start.

It’s happened to others before. Poor, poor child. It had to end, though. Fredy wouldn’`t stay faithful for ever. But it’s over now a warning to young girls. Now cheer up. I tell you, he won’t take the children. How can he? The Countess won’t have them under the same roof as the future Count. No, here they’ll stay. You’ll see. And now all we have to do is wait for Maxi to come back. “

How I yearned for that day!

It must have been just past midnight. I had retired to bed as usual and was in a deep sleep when I was awakened to find Frieda standing by my bed with a candlestick in which was a lighted candle.

“Miss Trant,” she cried.

“Wake up. Fritz isn’t in his bed.” I started up and hastily put on slippers and a dressing-gown.

“He must be walking again. Miss Trant. I went in because I thought I heard a sound and he wasn’`t there. His bed is empty.”

Frieda was trembling so much that the box of matches in the saucerlike base of the candlestick fell on to the bed. She replaced them with shaking fingers.

“We’d better look for him,” I said.

Yes, Miss. “

I ran out of my room; she followed holding the candle high.

I went to Fritz’s room. His bed was empty.

“He can’t be far,” I said.

“Miss,” said Frieda, ‘there’s a draught on the turret stairs. I couldn’'t understand . “

“A draught! But that would mean a window was open somewhere.”

I started towards the turret stairs. I realized at once what she meant. If the door was shut there would be no draught. It could only be if the window was open . I was frightened. Fritz walking in his sleep . into the turret-room, to the window . the window from which’ long ago poor Gerda had flung herself. Gerda’s story had caught his imagination; I believed I had suppressed the children’s unhealthy fear of ghosts, but how could I be sure of what went on in their innermost minds, and if Fritz were sleepwalking . I ran up the stairs; the door was open; there was no doubt that the draught came from the open window.

Frieda was close at my heels with the candle, which was a good thing for it was a dark night; there was a certain amount of mist in the air, but the candle light showed me the room with the open window, the window from which Gerda had thrown herself and from which there was a steep drop to the valley below.

I ran to it and leaned out. I could just make out the shadowy shape of the mountainside. I sensed a presence behind me. A warm breath seemed to touch my neck. In that instant I thought; someone is going to force me out of the window.

|i There was a sudden scream and a blaze of light illuminated the room. I saw Frieda cowering against the wall. She no longer held the candle but was staring in horror at the velvet table-covering which was on fire. I forgot my terror of a few moments before. I rushed to pick up a rug and started to beat out the flames.

Frau Graben appeared, a candle in her hand, her hair in iron curlers under a nightcap.

“Mem Gottshe cried.

“What is happening?”

I continued to beat out the smouldering remains of the table-cloth. My mouth was parched and for a moment I could not speak. Then I said:

“Frieda dropped the candle and I think there was someone here.

Frieda, did you see anyone? “

She shook her head.

“I dropped the candle, the flame caught the matches, the whole box went up in flames.

“Where were you, Frau Graben?” I asked.

“Did you see anyone? You must have.”

“There was no one on the stairs.”

Frieda cried: “It must have been the ghost.”

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” said Frau Graben to me.

“But why did you come up here?”

“Fritz!” I cried.

“I’m forgetting Fritz. I came to look for him. He’s sleepwalking again.”

“Well, he’s not here,” said Frau Graben.

I stared fearfully at the window.

“We must search every where everywhere,” I cried frantically.