‘This is a very strange thing,’ Schmidt began, and then gasped. ‘Look – the young countess!’
Irma had fallen back in her chair, arms dangling at her sides. I could hear her breathing in low, deep sighs. It was a horrible sound.
Blankenhagen got to his feet.
‘Don’t touch her!’ Miss Burton’s voice stopped the doctor as he reached for Irma’s wrist. ‘She is in trance. If you try to waken her, it could be disastrous. Let me handle this. Irma – can you hear me?’
There was no answer. The doctor looked from Miss Burton to the unconscious girl. Miss Burton took a deep breath and said distinctly, ‘Who are you?’
For a few seconds there was only silence. Then, from the sleeping girl’s mouth, came a voice speaking a strange garble of words. It sounded like German, but it was a form of the language I had never heard. Or . . . had I? It sounded vaguely familiar.
Then, for the first time, my hair literally bristled. I had heard the language before, when a visiting professor of Germanic literature read some of the Meistergesang of the sixteenth century in their original form. Irma was speaking Frühneuhochdeutsch – the earliest form of modern German, the language used by Martin Luther and his contemporaries.
Miss Burton scribbled like a maniac, taking the speech down in phonetic symbols. Her cold-blooded competence was repulsive.
The voice – I couldn’t think of it as Irma’s – stopped.
‘Why have you come?’ Miss Burton asked. This time, prepared, I caught some of the answer. I didn’t like what I heard. Tony understood, too; his breath caught angrily, and he pushed his chair back.
‘This has gone far enough,’ he began, and was cut short by the scream that ripped from Irma’s throat. The next words were horribly clear.
‘Das Feuer! Das Feuer!’ She shrieked, and slid sideways out of her chair.
Blankenhagen caught her before she hit the floor.
That broke up the séance. Miss Burton moved about lighting candles. Her eyes glittered. Blankenhagen knelt by Irma, and the rest of us huddled in a group near the door.
‘What did it mean?’ George hissed. ‘That last word?’
‘Fire,’ said Tony uneasily. ‘Fire.’
‘What fire?’ George demanded. ‘Is she trying to tell us the Schloss is going to burn?’
‘How should I know?’
Miss Burton came back to the table.
‘Did anyone recognize the language?’ she asked briskly.
I gave her a hostile, unbelieving stare, which didn’t disturb her in the slightest, and turned to Blankenhagen.
‘How is Irma?’
‘She recovers,’ the doctor said shortly.
‘She will feel no ill effects, except for great weariness,’ Miss Burton said complacently. ‘I have seen deep trance before. My dear Elfrida, how fortunate. You told me the girl was susceptible, but I had no idea!’
The countess hadn’t moved from her chair. She didn’t look at Irma.
‘Now, the language,’ Miss Burton went on. ‘A form of German, I believe. Professor Lawrence?’
‘Not now!’ Tony said angrily.
‘Professor Schmidt? Really, this is too important – ’
Schmidt was too shaken to argue. I felt a touch of sympathy for the little guy when I saw his twitching face; he was like a man who goes out hunting for a lost pussycat, and meets a tiger. With a despairing shrug he took the paper Miss Burton thrust at him.
‘Yes, yes,’ he muttered. ‘It is the early form of modern High German. “I am the Gräfin Konstanze von Drachenstein; from the sunny land of Spain I came, to die in this place of cold winters and colder hearts.”’
‘Lousy prose,’ George said critically.
Schmidt hurried on.
‘Then, it is something like this: “There is danger everywhere. I cannot rest. I cannot sleep, here in the cold of eternity. Let me see the sun again, let me feel warmth, breathe the air. Give me life. She has so much; let her share life and breath with me. Let me have – ”’
The sobbing cry might have been the ghost’s own addition to Schmidt’s translation. It was Irma’s voice, though. Supported by Blankenhagen, she had raised herself to a sitting position. As we turned, guilty and surprised, she slumped back with closed eyes.
‘Idiot,’ said the doctor furiously. ‘It is criminal, what you do! To put such insane ideas into the girl’s mind – ’
‘It is you who are insane, to deny the evidence of your own senses!’ Miss Burton was as angry as Blankenhagen. Two febrile spots of colour burned on her sallow cheeks. ‘You heard her; you must know it was not Irma who said those words. Possession by the spirits of the dead is a well-documented fact; only a bigoted scientist would deny – ’
‘Herr Gott in Himmel,’ bellowed Blankenhagen. ‘Will no one stop that cursed woman’s mouth?’
He surged to his feet, lifting Irma as if she were a child. Miss Burton’s colour faded; she fell back a step as the irate doctor advanced on her. I decided it was time to intervene.
‘I’ll stop it,’ I said. ‘If she says another word, I’ll gag her. Come on, Doctor. You’d better get Irma out of here.’
Miss Burton gave me a long, measuring look, and decided I was not only willing to carry out my threat, but capable of enforcing it. The Gräfin smiled like Andersen’s Snow Queen. George was smiling too, but he looked rather thoughtful. Tony didn’t say a word; he just moved up behind me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder. Of the whole group, the one who was most upset was little Herr Schmidt. His face was puckered like that of a baby about to cry.
‘Furchtbar,’ he muttered. ‘I am ashamed; I did not know she heard. I did not realize – ’
George gave him a slap on the back.
‘Don’t kick yourself, Schmidt. It wasn’t your fault. Well, ladies, I guess it’s time to break up the party. Thanks for an interesting evening. Not much fun, but interesting.’
The light touch was inappropriate. Blankenhagen bared his teeth at George and stamped towards the door. I started to follow, since it was clear that the Gräfin didn’t intend to go with her stricken niece, but Tony’s hand held me back.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘Gräfin, you once said I might explore any part of the Schloss. I want the keys to the crypt, please.’
‘The crypt?’ The Gräfin laughed musically. ‘You are thinking of going there now? I admire your courage, mein Herr, it is an uncanny spot by night, even for a sceptic. But if you are determined, come to my room and I will give you the keys.’
I caught up with Blankenhagen in the hall.
‘I’ll show you where Irma’s room is,’ I said. ‘You may need some help.’
His rocky face relaxed a little.
‘You are good,’ he said formally.
The only thing he needed me for was to undress Irma and put her to bed. I wondered at his modesty; a doctor shouldn’t be embarrassed about female bodies, even bodies as gorgeous as Irma’s. Then it occurred to me that maybe he was thinking of her as something other than a patient.
The girl didn’t stir as I wrestled her into one of her hideous nightgowns and tucked her in. She was a little thing; it wasn’t hard for me to handle her. But I didn’t like the flaccidity of her muscles, or the depth of her trance. As soon as I had her in bed, Blankenhagen took over. After a few minutes she began to mutter and stir.
In the silence I heard footsteps outside – Tony and the old witch, going after the keys. The footsteps didn’t stop, they went on up the stairs. The cold-blooded female hadn’t even looked in.