CHAPTER XII How they departed from the imperial city. The Lord of Ringstetten would have certainly preferred the events of this day to have been different, but even as they were he could scarcely regret them wholly, as they had exhibited his charming wife under such a good and sweet and kindly aspect. If I have given her a soul he could not help saying to himself, I have indeed given her a better one than my own. And his only thought now was to speak soothingly to the weeping undeen and on the following morning to quit with her a place which, after this incident, must have become distasteful to her. It is true that she was not estimated differently to what she had been. As something mysterious had long been expected of her, the strange discovery of Bertelda's origin had caused no great surprise, and everyone who had heard the story and had seen Bertelda's violent behavior was disgusted with her alone. Of this, however, the night and his lady knew nothing as yet, and besides the condemnation or approval of the public was equally painful to undeen, and thus there was no better course to pursue than to leave the walls of the old city behind them, with all the speed possible. With the earliest beams of mourning a pretty carriage drove up to the entrance gate for undeen. The horses which Haldbrand and his squires were to ride stood near, pawing the ground with impatient eagerness. The night was leading his beautiful wife from the door when a fisher-girl crossed their way. We do not need your fish, said Haldbrand to her. We are now starting on our journey. Upon this the fisher-girl began to weep bitterly, and the young couple perceived for the first time that it was Bertelda. They immediately returned with her to their apartment and learned from her that the Duke and Duchess were so displeased at her violent and unfeeling conduct on the preceding day that they had entirely withdrawn their protection from her, though not without giving her a rich portion. The fisherman, too, had been handsomely rewarded and had the evening before set out with his wife to return to their secluded home. I would have gone with them, she continued, but the old fisherman, who is said to be my father, and he is so indeed Bertelda interrupted undeen, look here the stranger whom you took for the master of the fountain, told me the whole story in detail. He wished to dissuade me from taking you with me to Castle Ringstetten, and this led him to disclose the secret. Well, then, said Bertelda, if it must be so, my father said, I will not take you with me until you are changed.  But do not come to me as a lady. Come only as a fisher-girl, so I will do just as he told me, for I am forsaken by the whole world.  I have a terrible dread, though, of the forest. Horrible specters are said to dwell in it, and I am so fearful. But how can I help it? I only came here to implore pardon of the noble lady of Ringstetten for my unbecoming behavior yesterday. I feel sure, sweet lady, you meant to do me a kindness, but you knew not how you would wound me, and in my agony and surprise many a rash and frantic expression passed my lips. Oh, forgive! Forgive! I am already so unhappy. Only think yourself, what I was yesterday morning, yesterday at the beginning of your banquet, and what I am now! Her voice became stifled with a passionate flood of tears, and Undine, also weeping bitterly, fell on her neck. It was some time before the deeply agitated Undine could utter a word. At length, she said, you can go with us to Ringstetten. Everything shall remain as it was arranged before. Only do not speak to me again as noble lady. You see, we were exchanged for each other as children. Our faces even then sprang as it were from the same stem. And we will now so strengthen this kindred destiny that no human power shall be able to separate it. Only, first of all, come with us to Ringstetten. We will discuss there how we shall share all things as sisters. Bertelda looked timidly toward Haldbrand. He pitied the beautiful girl in her distress, and, offering her his hand, he begged her tenderly to entrust herself with him and his wife. We will send a message to your parents, he continued, to tell them why you are not come. And he would have added more with regard to the worthy fisherman and his wife, but he saw that Bertelda shrunk with pain from the mention of their name, and he therefore refrained from saying more. He then assisted her first into the carriage, Undine followed her, and he mounted his horse and trotted merrily by the side of them, urging the driver at the same time to hasten his speed, so that very soon they were beyond the confines of the imperial city, and all its sad remembrances. And now the ladies began to enjoy the beautiful country through which their road lay. After a journey of some days they arrived one exquisite evening at Castle Ringstetten. The young knight had much to hear from his overseers and vassals, so that Undine and Bertelda were left alone. They both repaired to the ramparts of the fortress and were delighted with the beautiful landscape which spread far and wide through fertile Swabia. Presently, a tall man approached them, greeting them respectfully, and Bertelda fancied she saw a resemblance to the master of the fountain in the imperial city. Still more unmistakable grew the likeness when Undine angrily and almost threateningly waved him off, and he retreated with hasty steps and shaking head, as he had done before, and disappeared into a neighbouring copes.  And then she told her the whole story in detail, and who she was herself, and how Bertelda had been taken away from the fisherman and his wife, and Undine had gone to them. The girl was at first terrified with this relation. She imagined her friend must be seized with sudden madness. But she became more convinced that all was true, for Undine's story was so connected, and fitted so well with former occurrences, and still more she had that inward feeling with which truth never fails to make itself known to us. It seemed strange to her that she was now herself living, as it were, in the midst of one of those fairy tales to which she had formerly only listened. She gazed upon Undine with reverence, but she could not resist a sense of dread that seemed to come between her and her friend. And at their evening repast she could not but wonder how the night could behave so lovingly and kindly toward a being who appeared to her, since the discovery she had just made, more of a phantom than a human being. CHAPTER XIII. HOW THEY LIVED AT CASTLE RINGSTETTON. The writer of this story, both because it moves his own heart and because he wishes it to move that of others, begs you, dear reader, to pardon him if he now briefly passes over a considerable space of time, only cursorily mentioning the events that marked it. He knows well that he might portray skillfully, step by step, how Haldbrand's heart began to turn from Undine to Bertelda, how Bertelda more and more responded with ardent affection to the young knight, and how they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being, rather to be feared than pitied, how Undine wept, and how her tears stung the knight's heart with remorse without awakening his former love, so that though he at times was kind and endearing to her, a cold shutter would soon draw him from her, and he would turn to his fellow mortal, Bertelda.  You know probably a like-feeling, dear reader, for such is the lot of mortal man. Happy are you if you have received rather than inflicted the pain, for in such things it is more blessed to receive than to give. If it be so, such recollections will only bring a feeling of sorrow to your mind, and perhaps a tear will trickle down your cheek over the faded flowers that once caused you such delight. But let that be enough. We will not pierce our hearts with a thousand separate things, but only briefly state, as I have just said, how matters were. Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were not to be called happy. Bertelda especially thought that she could trace the effect of jealousy on the part of the injured wife whenever her wishes were in any way thwarted by her. She had therefore habituated herself to an imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded in sorrowful submission, and the now blinded Haldbrand usually encouraged this arrogant behavior in the strongest manner. But the circumstances that most of all disturbed the inmates of the castle was a variety of wonderful apparitions which met Haldbrand and Bertelda in the vaulted galleries of the castle, and which had never been heard of before as haunting the locality. The tall white man in whom Haldbrand recognized only two plainly Uncle Culliborn, and Bertelda, the spectral master of the fountain, often passed before them with a threatening aspect, and especially before Bertelda, so much so that she had already several times been made ill with terror, and had frequently thought of quitting the castle. But still she stayed there, partly because Haldbrand was so dear to her, and she relied on her innocence, no words of love having ever passed between them, and partly also because she knew not wither to direct her steps. The old fisherman on receiving the message from the Lord of Ringstetten that Bertelda was his guest, had written a few lines in an almost illegible hand, but as good as his advanced age and long disuse would admit of. "'I have now become,' he wrote, a poor old widower, for my dear and faithful wife is dead. However lonely I now sit in my cottage, Bertelda is better with you than with me. Only let her do nothing to harm my beloved Undine. She will have my curse if it be so.' The last words of this letter Bertelda flung to the winds, but she carefully retained the part respecting her absence from her father, just as we all want to do in similar circumstances. One day when Haldbrand had just written out, Undine summoned together the domestics of the family and ordered them to bring a large stone, and carefully to cover with it the magnificent fountain which stood in the middle of the castle yard. The servant subjected that it would oblige them to bring water from the valley below. Undine smiled sadly, "'I am sorry, my people,' she replied, to increase your work. I would rather myself fetch up the pitchers, but this fountain must be closed. Believe me that it cannot be otherwise, and that it is only by so doing that we can avoid a greater evil.' The whole household were glad to be able to please their gentle mistress. They made no further inquiry, but seized the enormous stone. They were just raising it in their hands, and were already poising it over the fountain when Bertelda came running up and called out to them to stop, as it was from this fountain that the water was brought which was so good for her complexion, and she would never consent to its being closed. Mean, however, although gentle, as usual, was more than usually firm, she told Bertelda that it was her due, as mistress of the house, to arrange her household as she thought best, and that in this she was accountable to no one but her lord and husband.  The water in the fountain was indeed wonderfully agitated and hissing. It seemed as if something within were struggling to free itself, but Undeen only the more earnestly urged the fulfillment of her orders. The earnestness was scarcely needed. The servants of the castle were as happy in obeying their gentle mistress as in opposing Bertelda's haughty defiance, and in spite of all the rude scolding and threatening of the latter the stone was soon firmly lying over the opening of the fountain. Undeen leaned thoughtfully over it, and wrote with her beautiful fingers on its surface. She must, however, have had something very sharpened cutting in her hand, for when she turned away, and the servants drew near to examine the stone, they perceived various strange characters upon it, which none of them had seen there before. Bertelda received the night on his return home in the evening with tears and complaints of Undeen's conduct. He cast a serious look at his poor wife, and she looked down as if distressed. Yet she said with great composure, �My lord and husband does not reprove even a bond slave without a hearing. How much less than his wedded wife! Speak,� said the knight, with a gloomy countenance, �what induced you to act so strangely? �I should like to tell you when we are quite alone,� sighed Undeen. �You can tell me just as well in Bertelda's house,� was the rejoinder. �Yes, if you command me,� said Undeen, �but command it not. Oh, pray, pray command it not!� She looked so humble, so sweet, and obedient, that the knight's heart felt a passing gleam from better times. He kindly placed her arm within his own, and led her to his apartment, when she began to speak as follows. �You already know, my beloved lord, something of my evil uncle, Culliborn, and you have frequently been displeased at meeting him in the galleries of this castle. He has several times frightened Bertelda into illness. This is because he is devoid of soul, a mere elemental mirror of the outward world without the power of reflecting the world within. He sees, too, sometimes, that you are dissatisfied with me, that I, in my childishness, am weeping at this, and that Bertelda, perhaps, is at the very same moment laughing. Hence he imagines various discrepancies in our home life, and in many ways mixes unbidden with our circle. What is the good of reproving him? What is the use of sending him angrily away? He does not believe a word I say. His poor nature has no idea that the joys and sorrows of love have so sweet a resemblance, and are so closely linked that no power can separate them. Amid tears a smile shines forth, and a smile allures tears from their secret chambers. She looked up at Haldbrand, smiling and weeping, and he again experienced within his heart all the charm of his old love. She felt this, and pressing him more tenderly to her, she continued, amid tears of joy. As the disturber of our peace was not to be dismissed with words, I have been obliged to shut the door upon him, and the only door by which he obtains access to us is that fountain. He is cut off by the adjacent valleys from the other water spirits in the neighborhood, and his kingdom only commences further off on the Danube, into which some of his good friends direct their course. For this reason I had the stone placed over the opening of the fountain, and I inscribed characters upon it which cripple all my uncle's power, so that he can now neither intrude upon you nor upon me, nor upon Bertalda. Even beings it is true can raise the stone again with ordinary effort, in spite of the characters inscribed on it. The inscription does not hinder them. If you wish, therefore, follow Bertalda's desire, but truly she knows not what she asks. The rude Culliborn has set his mark especially upon her. And if much came to pass which he has predicted to me, and which might indeed happen without your meaning any evil, ah, dear one, even you would then be exposed to danger.  He pressed her in his arms with the utmost affection and said with emotion, The stone shall remain, and all shall remain now and ever, as you wish to have it, my sweet Undine. She caressed him with humble delight, as she heard the expressions of love so long withheld, and then at length she said, My dearest husband, you are so gentle and kind today, may I venture to ask a favour of you? See now, it is just the same with you as it is with summer. In the height of its glory summer puts on the flaming and thundering crown of mighty storms, and assumes the air of a king over the earth. You too sometimes let your fury rise, and your eyes flash, and your voices angry, and this becomes you well, though I in my folly may sometimes weep at it. But never, I pray you, behave thus toward me on the water, or even when we are near it. You see, my relatives would then acquire a right over me. They would unrelentingly tear me from you in their rage, because they would imagine that one of their race was injured, and I should be compelled all my life to dwell below in the crystal palaces, and should never dare to ascend to you again.  No. No, my beloved husband, do not let it come to that, if your poor undean is dear to you. He promised solemnly to do as she desired, and they both returned from the apartment, full of happiness and affection. At that moment Bertelda appeared with some workmen, to whom she had already given orders, and said in a sullen tone which she had assumed of late. I suppose the secret conference is at an end, and now the stone may be removed. Go out workmen and attend to it. But the night, angry at her impertinence, desired in short and very decisive words, that the stone should be left, he reproved Bertelda too for her violence toward his wife, whereupon the workmen withdrew, smiling with secret satisfaction, while Bertelda, pale with rage, hurried away to her room. The hour for the evening repast arrived, and Bertelda they waited for in vain. They sent after her, but the domestic found her apartment empty, and only brought back with him a sealed letter addressed to the night. He opened it with alarm, and read, I feel with shame that I am only a poor fisher-girl. I will expiate my fault in having forgotten this for a moment by going to the miserable cottage of my parents. Farewell to you and your beautiful wife. Undeen was heartily distressed. She earnestly entreated Haldbrand to hasten after their friend and bring her back again, alas, she had no need to urge him. His affection for Bertelda burst forth again with vehemence. He hurried round the castle, inquiring if anyone had seen which way the fugitive had gone. He could learn nothing of her, and he was already on his horse in the castle-yard, resolved at a venture to take the road by which he had brought Bertelda hither. Just then a page appeared, who assured him that he had met the lady on the path to the Black Valley. Like an arrow, the night sprang through the gateway in the direction indicated, without hearing Undeen's voice of agony, as she called to him from the window. To the Black Valley? Oh, not there, Haldbrand, don't go there! Or for heaven's sake, take me with you! But when she perceived that all her calling was in vain, she ordered her white palfrey to be immediately saddled, and rode after the night, without allowing any servant to accompany her. CHAPTER XIV. HOW BRETELDA RETURNED HOME WITH THE NIGHT The Black Valley lies deep within the mountains. What it is now called we do not know. At that time the people of the country gave it this appellation on account of the deep obscurity in which the low land lay, owing to the shadows of the lofty trees and especially furs that grew there. Even the brook which bubbled between the rocks were the same dark hue, and dashed along with none of that gladness with which streams are want to flow that have the blue sky immediately above them. Now in the growing twilight of evening it looked wild and gloomy between the heights. The night trotted anxiously along the edge of the brook, fearful at one moment that by delay he might allow the fugitive to advance too far, and at the next that by too great rapidity he might overlook her in case she were concealing herself from him. Meanwhile he had already penetrated tolerably far into the valley, and might soon hope to overtake the maiden if he were on the right track. The fear that this might not be the case made his heart beat with anxiety. Where would the tender Bertelda tarry through the stormy night which was so fearful in the valley should he fail to find her? At length he saw something white gleaming through the branches on the slope of the mountain. He thought he recognized Bertelda's dress and he turned his course in that direction. But his horse refused to go forward. It reared impatiently and its master unwilling to lose a moment and seeing moreover that the copes was impassable on horseback, dismounted, and, fastening his snorting steed to an elm tree, he worked his way cautiously through the bushes. The branches sprinkled his forehead and cheeks with the cold drops of the evening dew. A distant roll of thunder was heard murmuring from the other side of the mountains. Everything looked so strange that he began to feel a dread of the white figure which now lay only a short distance from him on the ground. Still he could plainly see that it was a female, either asleep or in a swoon, and that she was attired in long white garments such as Bertelda had worn on that day. He stepped close up to her, made a rustling with the branches, and let his sword clatter. But she moved not. Bertelda! He exclaimed at first in a low voice, and then louder and louder, still she heard not. At last, when he uttered the dear name with a more powerful effort, a hollow echo from the mountain caverns of the valley indistinctly reverberated Bertelda, but still the sleeper woke not. He bent down over her. The gloom of the valley and the obscurity of approaching night would not allow him to distinguish her features. Just as he was stooping closer over her, with a feeling of painful doubt, a flash of lightning shot across the valley, and he saw before him a frightfully distorted countenance, and a hollow voice exclaimed, Give me a kiss, you enamored swan! Hulledbrand sprang up with a cry of horror, and the hideous figure rose with him. Go home, it murmured. Wizards are on the watch.  And it stretched out its long white arms, toured him. Malicious Cullaborn cried the night, recovering himself. What do you concern me, you goblin? There, take your kiss! And he furiously hurled his sword at the figure. But it vanished, like vapor, and a gush of water which wedded him through, left the night no doubt as to the foe with whom he had been engaged. He wishes to frighten me back from Bertelda, said he allowed to himself.  But he shall not do that, weak spirit of the elements as he is. No powerless phantom can understand what a human heart can do when its best energies are aroused. He felt the truth of his words, and that the very expression of them had inspired his heart with fresh courage. It seemed, too, as if fortune were on his side, for he had not reached his fastened horse, when he distinctly heard Bertelda's plaintive voice not far distant, and could catch her weeping accents through the ever-increasing tumult of the thunder and tempest. He hurried swiftly in the direction of the sound, and found the trembling girl just attempting to climb the steep, in order to escape in any way from the dreadful gloom of the valley. He stepped, however, lovingly in her path, and bold and proud as her resolve had before been, she now felt only too keenly the delight, that the friend whom she so passionately loved should rescue her from this frightful solitude, and that the joyous life in the castle should be again open to her. She followed almost unresisting, but so exhausted with fatigue that the knight was glad to have brought her to his horse, which he now hastily unfastened in order to lift the fair fugitive upon it, and then, cautiously holding the reins, he hoped to proceed through the uncertain shades of the valley. But the horse had become quite unmanageable from the wild apparition of Culliborn. Even the knight would have had difficulty in mounting the rearing and snorting animal, but to place the trembling Bertelda on its back was perfectly impossible. They determined, therefore, to return home on foot. Drawing the horse after him by the bridle, the knight supported the tottering girl with his other hand. Bertelda exerted all her strength to pass quickly through the fearful valley. That weariness weighed her down like a lead. And every limb trembled, partly from the terror she had endured when Culliborn had pursued her, and partly from her continued alarm at the howling of the storm and the peeling of the thunder through the wooded mountain. At last she slid from the supporting arm of her protector, and sinking down on the moss, she exclaimed, Let me lie here. My noble lord, I suffer the punishment due to my folly, and I must now perish here through weariness and dread. No, sweet friend, I will never leave you, cried Haldbrand, vainly endeavouring to restrain his furious steed, for worse than before it now began to foam and rear with excitement, until at last the knight was glad to keep the animal at a sufficient distance from the exhausted maiden, lest her fears should be increased.  He was utterly at a loss what course to take. Gladly would he have given the excited beast its liberty and have allowed it to rush away into the night and spend its fury. Had he not feared that in this narrow defile it might come thundering with its iron-shod hoofs, over the very spot where Bertel delay. In the midst of this extreme perplexity and distress he heard with delight the sound of a vehicle driving slowly down the stony road behind them. He called out for help, and a man's voice replied, bidding him have patience, but promising assistance, and soon after two gray horses appeared through the bushes, and beside them the driver in the white smock of a carter. A great white linen cloth was next visible, covering the goods apparently contained in the wagon.  The driver then came toward the night and helped him in restraining his foaming animal. I see well, said he, what ails the beast. When I first travelled this way my horses were no better. The fact is there is an evil water-spirit haunting the place, and he takes delight in this sort of mischief. But I have learned a charm. If you will let me whisper it in your horse's ear he will stand at once just as quiet as my gray beasts are doing there. Try a luck, then, only help us quickly, exclaimed the impatient knight. The wagoner then drew down the head of the rearing charger close to his own, and whispered something in his ear. In a moment the animal stood still and quiet, and his quick panting and reeking condition was all that remained of his previous unmanageableness. Haldbrand had no time to inquire how all this had been affected. He agreed with the carter that he should take Bertalda on his wagon, whereas the man assured him there were a quantity of soft cotton bales upon which she could be conveyed to Castle Ringstetten. And the knight was to accompany them on horseback. But the horse appeared too much exhausted by its past fury to be able to carry its master so far, so the carter persuaded Haldbrand to get into the wagon with Bertalda. The horse could be fastened on behind. We are going down hill, said he, and that will make it light for my gray beasts. The knight accepted the offer and entered the wagon with Bertalda. The horse followed patiently behind, and the wagoner, steady and attentive, walked by the side. In the stillness of the knight, as its darkness deepened and the subsiding tempest sounded more and more remote, encouraged by the sense of security and their fortunate escape, a confidential conversation arose between Haldbrand and Bertalda. With flattering words he reproached her for her daring flight. She excused herself with humility and emotion, and from every word she said a gleam shone forth which disclosed distinctly to the lover that the beloved was his. The knight felt the sense of her words far more than he regarded their meaning, and it was the sense alone to which he replied. Suddenly the wagoner suddenly shouted with loud voice, Up, my graze, up with your feet, keep together, remember who you are. The knight leaned out of the wagon and saw that the horses were stepping into the midst of a foaming stream, or were already almost swimming, while the wheels of the wagon were rushing round and gleaming like mill wheels, and the wagoner had got up in front, in consequence of the increasing waters. What sort of a road is this? It goes into the middle of the stream, cried Haldbrand to his guide. Not at all, sir, returned the other, laughing. It is just the reverse. The stream goes into the very middle of our road. Look round and see how everything is covered by the water. The whole valley, indeed, was suddenly filled with the surging flood, that visibly increased. It is Culliborn, the evil water spirit, who wishes to drown us, exclaimed the knight. Have you no charm against him, my friend? I know indeed of one, returned the wagoner, but I cannot and may not use it until you know who I am. Is this a time for riddles, cried the knight, the flood is ever rising higher. And what does it matter to me to know who you are?  For I am Culliborn. So saying, he thrust his distorted face into the wagon with a grin. But the wagon was a wagon no longer. The horses were not horses, all was transformed to foam and vanished in the hissing waves, and even the wagoner himself, rising as a gigantic billow, drew down the vainly struggling horse beneath the waters, and then swelling higher and higher, swept over the heads of the floating pair like some liquid tower, threatening to bury them irrevocably. Just then the soft voice of Undine sounded through the uproar. The moon emerged from the clouds, and by its light Undine was seen on the heights above the valley. She rebuked. She threatened the floods below. The menacing tower-like wave vanished. Muttering and murmuring, the waters flowed gently away in the moonlight, and like a white dove, Undine flew down from the height, seized the knight and Bertelda and bore them with her to a fresh green, turfy spot on the hill, where with choice refreshing restoratives she dispelled their terrors and weariness. Then she assisted Bertelda to mount the white palfrey on which she had herself ridden here, and thus all three returned back to Castle Ringstetten. CHAPTER XV THE JOURNEY TO Vienna After this last adventure they lived quietly and happily at the castle. The night more and more perceived the heavenly goodness of his wife, which had been so nobly exhibited by her pursuit and by her rescue of them in the black valley, where Culliborn's power again commenced. Undine herself felt that peace and security which is never lacking to a mind so long as it is distinctly conscious of being on the right path, and besides, in the newly awakened love and esteem of her husband, many a gleam of hope and joy shone upon her. Bertelda, on the other hand, showed herself grateful, humble and timid without regarding her conduct as anything meritorious. Whenever Haldbrand or Undine were about to give her any explanation regarding the covering of the fountain or the adventure in the black valley, she would earnestly entreat them to spare her the recital, as she felt too much ashamed at the recollection of the fountain and too much fear at the remembrance of the black valley. She learned therefore nothing further of either. And for what end was such knowledge necessary, peace and joy had visibly taken up their abode at Castle Ringstetten. They felt secure on this point, and imagined that life could now produce nothing but pleasant flowers and fruits. In this happy condition of things winter had come and passed away, and spring, with its fresh green shoots and its blue sky, was gladdening the joyous inmates of the castle. Spring was in harmony with them, and they with spring. What wonder, then, that its storks and swallows inspired them also with a desire to travel? One day when they were taking a pleasant walk to one of the sources of the Danube, Haldbrand spoke of the magnificence of the noble river, and how it widened as it flowed through countries fertilized by its waters, how the charming city of Vienna shone forth on its banks, and how with every step of its course it increased in power and loveliness. It must be glorious to go down the river as far as Vienna exclaimed to Bertelda, but immediately relapsing into her present modesty and humility, she paused and blushed deeply. This touched Undine deeply, and with the liveliest desire to give pleasure to her friend, she said, What hinders us from starting on the little voyage? Bertelda exhibited the greatest delight, and both she and Undine began at once to picture the tour of the Danube in the brightest colors. Haldbrand also gladly agreed to the prospect. Only he once whispered anxiously in Undine's ear, but Culliborne becomes possessed of his power again out there.  The last impediment was thus removed, and they prepared for the journey, and soon after set out upon it with fresh spirits and the brightest hopes. But wonder not, O man, if events always turn out different to what we have intended. That malicious power, lurking for our destruction, gladly lulls its chosen victim to sleep with sweet songs and golden delusions. While on the other hand the rescuing messenger from heaven often knocks sharply and alarmingly at our door. During the first few days of their voyage down the Danube they were extremely happy. Everything grew more and more beautiful as they sailed further and further down the proudly flowing stream. But in a region otherwise so pleasant, and in the enjoyment of which they had promised themselves the purest delight, the ungovernable Culliborn began, undisguisedly, to exhibit his power of interference. This was indeed manifested in mere teasing tricks, for Undine often rebuked the agitated waves, or the contrary winds, and then the violence of the enemy would be immediately humbled. But again the attacks would be renewed, and again Undine's reproofs would become necessary so that the pleasure of the little party was completely destroyed. The boatmen too were continually whispering to each other in dismay, and looking with distrust at the three strangers, whose servants even began more and more to forebode something uncomfortable, and to watch their superiors with suspicious glances. Haldbrand often said to himself, this comes from like not being linked with like, from a man uniting himself with a mermaid. Excusing himself as we all love to do, he would often think indeed as he said this, I did not really know that she was a sea-maiden, mine is the misfortune, that every step I take is disturbed and haunted by the wild caprices of her race, but mine is not the fault. By thoughts such as these he felt himself in some measure strengthened, but on the other hand he felt increasing ill-humour, and almost animosity toward Undine. He would look at her with an expression of anger, the meaning of which the poor wife understood well. We read with this exhibition of displeasure and exhausted by the constant effort to frustrate Culliborn's artifices. She sank one evening into a deep slumber, rocked soothingly by the softly-gliding bark. Scarcely, however, had she closed her eyes, then everyone in the vessel imagined he saw, in whatever direction he turned, a most horrible human head. It rose out of the waves, not like that of a person swimming, but perfectly perpendicular, as if invisibly supported upright on the watery surface, and floating along in the same course with the bark. Each wanted to point out to the other the cause of his alarm, but each found the same expression of horror depicted on the face of his neighbour, only that his hands and eyes were directed to a different point, where the monster, half laughing and half threatening, rose before them. When, however, they all wished to make each other understand what each saw, and all were crying out, Look there! No there! The horrible heads, all at one and the same time, appeared to their view, and the whole river around the vessel swarmed with the most hideous apparitions. The universal cry raised at the site awoke Undine. As she opened her eyes, the wild crowd of distorted visages disappeared, but Haldbrand was indignant at such unsightly jugglery. He would have burst forth in uncontrolled imprecations had not Undine said to him with a humble manner, and a softly imploring tone, For God's sake, my husband, where on the water, do not be angry with me now. The night was silent and sat down, absorbed in reverie. Undine whispered in his ear, Would it not be better, my love, if we gave up this foolish journey, and returned to Castle Ringstetten in peace? But Haldbrand murmured moodily, So I must be a prisoner in my own castle, and only be able to breathe so long as the fountain is closed. I would, your mad kindred, Undine lovingly pressed her fair hand upon his lips. He paused, pondering in silence over much that Undine had before said to him. Bertelda had meanwhile given herself up to a variety of strange thoughts. She knew a good deal of Undine's origin, and yet not the whole, and the fearful Culliborn especially had remained to her a terrible but wholly unrevealed mystery. She had indeed never even heard his name. Musing on these strange things she unclasped, scarcely conscious of the act, a gold necklace which Haldbrand had lately purchased for her of a travelling trader. Half-dreamingly she drew it along the surface of the water, enjoying the light glimmer it cast upon the evening-tinted stream. Suddenly a huge hand was stretched out of the Danube. It seized the necklace and vanished with it beneath the waters. Bertelda screamed aloud, and a scornful laugh resounded from the depths of the stream. The night could now restrain his anger no longer. Starting up he invaded against the river. He cursed all who ventured to interfere with his family and his life, and challenged them, be they spirits or sirens, to show themselves before his avenging sword. Haldda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which was so precious to her, and her tears added fuel to the flame of the night's anger, while Undine held her hand over the side of the vessel, dipping it into the water, softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then interrupting her strange mysterious whisper as she entreated her husband. My dearly loved one, do not scold me here. Reprove others, if you will, but not me here. You know why. And indeed he restrained the words of anger that were trembling on his tongue. Presently in her wet hand which she had been holding under the waves she brought up a beautiful coral necklace, of so much brilliancy that the eyes of all were dazzled by it.  But the night sprang between them. He tore the beautiful ornament from Undine's hand, hurled it again into the river, exclaiming in passionate rage. Have you then still a connection with them? In the name of all the witches, remain among them with your presence, and leave us mortals in peace, you sorceress! Poor Undine, gazed at him with fixed but tearful eyes. Her hand still stretched out, as when she had offered her beautiful present so lovingly to Bertelda. She then began to weep, more and more violently, like a dear innocent child bitterly afflicted. At last, wearied out, she said, Alas, sweet friend, Alas, farewell. They shall do you no harm, only remain true, so that I may be able to keep them from you. I must, Alas, go away. I must go hence at this early stage of life. Oh, whoa, whoa, what have you done? Oh, whoa, whoa. She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she plunged into the stream or flowed away with it, they knew not. Her disappearance was like both, and neither. Soon however she was completely lost sight of in the Danube. Only a few little waves kept whispering, as if sobbing, round the boat, and they almost seemed to be saying, Oh, whoa, whoa, oh, remain true. Oh, whoa. Hulled brand lay on the deck of the vessel, bathed in hot tears, and a deep swoon soon cast its veil of forgetfulness over the unhappy man. End of Chapter 15. Recording by Pete Williams, Pittsburgh, PA. CHAPTER 16 OF UNDEEN. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Pete Williams. Undean by Friedrich de la Matfouquet, translated by F. E. Bunnett. CHAPTER 16. HOW IT FAIRED FURTHER WITH HULDBRAND. Shall we say it is well or ill? That our sorrow is of such short duration. I mean that deep sorrow, which affects the very wellspring of our life, which becomes so one with the lost objects of our love that they are no longer lost, and which enshrines their image as a sacred treasure, until that final goal is reached which they have reached before us. It is true that many men really maintain these sacred memories, but their feeling is no longer that of the first deep grief. Other and new images have thronged between. We learn at length the transitoriness of all earthly things, even to our grief, and therefore I must say, alas, that our sorrow should be of such short duration. The Lord of Ringstetten experienced this, whether for his good we shall hear in the sequel to this history. At first he could do nothing but weep, and that as bitterly as the poor gentle Undean had wept when he had torn from her hand that brilliant ornament with which she had wished to set everything to rights. And then he would stretch out his hand as she had done, and would weep again, like her. He cherished the secret hope that he might at length dissolve in tears, and has not a similar hope passed before the mind of many a one of us with painful pleasure in moments of great affliction. Bertelda wept also, and they lived a long while quietly together at Castle Ringstetten, cherishing Undean's memory, and almost wholly forgetful of their former attachment to each other. And therefore the good Undean often visited Haldbrand in his dreams, caressing him tenderly and kindly, and then going away, weeping silently, so that when he awoke he often scarcely knew why his cheeks were so wet, whether they had been bathed with her tears, or merely his own. These dream visions became however less frequent as time passed on, and the grief of the night was less acute. Still he would probably have cherished no other wish than thus to think calmly of Undean and to talk of her. Had not the old fisherman appeared one day unexpectedly at the castle, and sternly insisted on Bertelda's returning with him as his child. The news of Undean's disappearance had reached him, and he had determined on no longer allowing Bertelda to reside at the castle with the widowed night. For, said he, whether my daughter love me or know, I do not care to know, but her honor is at stake, and where that is concerned nothing else is to be thought of. This idea of the old fisherman's, and the solitude which threatened to overwhelm the night in all the halls and galleries of the desolate castle after Bertelda's departure, brought out the feelings that had slumbered till now and which had been wholly forgotten in his sorrow for Undean, namely Haldbrand's affection for the beautiful Bertelda. The fisherman had many objections to raise against the proposed marriage. Undean had been very dear to the old fisherman, and he felt that no one really knew for certain whether the dear lost one were actually dead, and if her body were truly lying cold and stiff at the bottom of the Danube or had floated away with the current into the ocean, even then Bertelda was in some measure to blame for her death, and it was unfitting for her to step into the place of the poor supplanted one. Yet the fisherman had a strong regard for the night also, and the entreaties of his daughter, who had become much more gentle and submissive, and her tears for Undean turned the scale. And he must at length have given his consent, for he remained at the castle without objection, and a messenger was dispatched to Father Heilman, who had united Undean and Haldbrand in happy days gone by, to bring him to the castle for the second nuptials of the night. The holy man, however, had scarcely read the letter from the night of Ringstetten than he set out on his journey to the castle, with far greater expedition than even the messenger had used in going to him. Whenever his breath failed in his rapid progress or his aged limbs ached with weariness, he would say to himself, Perhaps the evil may yet be prevented. Fail not, my tottering frame, till you have reached the goal. And with renewed power he would then press forward and go on and on, without rest or repose, until late one evening he entered the shady courtyard of Castle Ringstetten. The betrothed pair were sitting side by side under the trees, and the old fisherman was near them, absorbed in thought. The moment they recognized Father Heilman they sprang up and pressed round him with warm welcome. But he, without making much reply, begged Haldbrand to go with him into the castle. And when the latter looked astonished and hesitated to obey the grave summons, the reverend father said to him, Why should I make any delay in wishing to speak to you in private, Herr von Ringstetten? What I have to say concerns Bertolda and the fisherman as much as yourself, and what a man has to hear he may prefer to hear as soon as possible. Are you then so perfectly certain, Knight Haldbrand, that your first wife is really dead? It scarcely seems so to me. I will not indeed say anything of the mysterious condition in which she may be existing, and I know to nothing of it with certainty. But she was a pious and faithful wife, that is beyond all doubt.  I did not understand what this nightly vision signified. When presently your messenger came, and I hurried thither, not to unite, but to separate, what ought not to be joined together. Leave her, Haldbrand, leave him Bertolda. He yet belongs to another, and do you not see grief for his lost wife, still written on his pale cheek? No bridegroom looks thus, and a voice tells me that if you do not leave him you will never be happy. The three listeners felt in their innermost heart that Father Howman spoke the truth. But they would not believe it. Even the old fisherman was now so infatuated that he thought it could not be otherwise than they had settled it in their discussions during the last few days. They therefore all opposed the warnings of the priest with a wild and gloomy rashness, until at length the Holy Father quitted the castle with a sad heart, refusing to accept even for a single night the shelter offered, or to enjoy the refreshments brought him. Haldbrand, however, persuaded himself that the priest was full of whims and fancies, and with dawn of day he sent for a father from the nearest monastery, who, without hesitation, promised to perform the ceremony in a few days. CHAPTER XII. THE NIGHT'S DREAM It was between night and dawn of day that the night was lying on his couch, half waking, half sleeping. Whenever he was on the point of falling asleep a terror seemed to come upon him and scare his rest away, for his slumbers were haunted with spectres. If he tried, however, to rouse himself in good earnest he felt fanned as by the wings of a swan, and he heard the soft murmuring of waters, until, soothed by the agreeable delusion, he sunk back again into a half-conscious state. At length he must have fallen sound asleep, for it seemed to him as if he were lifted up upon the fluttering wings of the swans, and borne by them far over land and sea, while they sang to him their sweetest music. The music of the swan, the music of the swan, he kept saying to himself, does it not always portend death? But it had yet another meaning. All at once he felt as if he were hovering over the Mediterranean sea. A swan was singing musically in his ear that this was the Mediterranean sea, and while he was looking down upon the waters below they became clear as crystal, so that he could see through them to the bottom. He was delighted at this, for he could see Undeen sitting beneath the crystal arch. It is true she was weeping bitterly, and looking much sadder than in the happy days when they had lived together at the castle of Ringstetten, especially at their commencement, and afterward also, shortly before they had begun their unhappy Danube excursion. The night could not help thinking upon all this very fully and deeply, but it did not seem as if Undeen perceived him. Meanwhile Culliborn had approached her, and was on the point of reproving her for her weeping, but she drew herself up and looked at him with such a noble and commanding air that he almost shrunk back with fear. Although I live here beneath the waters, said she, I have yet brought down my soul with me, and therefore I may well weep, although you cannot divine what such tears are. They too are blessed, for everything is blessed to him in whom a true soul dwells.  He is widower to this very hour, replied Undeen, and his sad heart still holds me dear. She is, however, at the same time betrothed, laughed Culliborn with scorn, and let only a few days pass and the priest will have given the nuptial blessing, and then you will have to go upon earth to accomplish the death of him who has taken another to wife. That I cannot do, laughed Undeen in return, I have sealed up the fountain securely against myself and my race. But suppose he should leave his castle, said Culliborn, or should have the fountain opened again, for he thinks little enough of these things. It is just for that reason, said Undeen still smiling, amid her tears. It is just for that reason that he is now hovering in spirit over the Mediterranean Sea, and is dreaming of this conversation of ours as a warning. I have intentionally arranged it so. Culliborn, furious with rage, looked up at the night, threatened, stamped with his feet, and then, swift as an arrow, shot under the waves. It seemed as if he were swelling in his fury to the size of a whale. Again the swans began to sing, to flap their wings, and to fly. It seemed to the night as if he were soaring away over mountains and streams, and that he at length reached the castle ring stetten, and awoke on his couch. He did in reality awake upon his couch, and his squire, coming in at that moment, informed him that Father Heilman was still lingering in the neighborhood that he had met him the night before in the forest, in a hut which he had formed for himself of the branches of trees, and covered with moss and brushwood. To the question what he was doing here, since he would not give the nuptial blessing, he had answered, There are other blessings besides those at the nuptial altar, and though I have not gone to the wedding, it may be that I shall be at another solemn ceremony. We must be ready for all things. Marrying and mourning are not so unlike. And every one not willfully blinded must see that well. The night placed various strange constructions upon these words, and upon his dream, but it is very difficult to break off a thing which a man has once regarded as certain, and so everything remained as it had been arranged. CHAPTER XVIII. How the night-hulled brand is married. If I were to tell you how the marriage feast passed at Castle Ringstetten, it would seem to you as if you saw a heap of bright and pleasant things, but a gloomy veil of mourning spread over them all, the dark hue of which would make the splendor of the whole look less like happiness than a mockery of the emptiness of all earthly joys. It was not that any spectral apparitions disturbed the festive company, for we know that the castle had been secured from the mischief of the threatening water-spirits. But the night and the fisherman and all the guests felt as if the chief personage were still lacking at the feast, and that this chief personage could be none other than the beloved and gentle Undine. Whenever a door opened, the eyes of all were involuntarily turned in that direction, and if it was nothing but the butler with new dishes or the cup-bearer with a flask of still richer wine, they would look down again sadly, and the flashes of wit and merriment which had passed to and fro would be extinguished by sad remembrances. The bride was the most thoughtless of all, and therefore the most happy, but even to her it sometimes seemed strange that she should be sitting at the head of the table, wearing a green wreath and gold embroidered attire while Undine was lying at the bottom of the Danube, a cold and stiff corpse, or floating away with the current into the mighty ocean. For ever since her father had spoken of something of the sort, his words were ever ringing in her ear, and this day especially they were not inclined to give place to other thoughts. The company dispersed early in the evening, not broken up by the bridegroom himself, but sadly and gloomily by the joyless mood of the guests, and their forebodings of evil.  Bertolda wished to arouse more cheerful thoughts. She ordered a splendid ornament of jewels which Haldbrand had given her, together with rich apparel and veils, to be spread out before her, in order that from these latter she might select the brightest and most beautiful for her mourning attire. Her attendants were delighted at the opportunity of expressing their good wishes to their young mistress, not failing at the same time to extol the beauty of the bride in the most lively terms. They were more and more absorbed in these considerations till Bertolda at length, looking in a mirror, said with a sigh, Ah, but don't you see plainly how freckled I am growing here at the side of my neck. They looked at her throat and found the freckles as their fair mistress had said, but they called them beauty-spots, and mere tiny blemishes only, tending to enhance the whiteness of her delicate skin. Bertolda shook her head and asserted that a spot was always a defect. And I could remove them, she sighed alas, only the fountain is closed from which I used to have that precious and purifying water. Oh, if I had but a flask of it to-day! Is that all, said an alert waiting-maid, laughing as she slipped from the apartment? She will not be mad, exclaimed to Bertolda in a pleased and surprised tone, she will not be so mad as to have the stone removed from the fountain this very evening. At the same moment they heard the men crossing the courtyard and could see from the window how the officious waiting-woman was leading them straight up to the fountain, and that they were carrying levers and other instruments on their shoulders. It is certainly my will, said Bertolda smiling, if only it does not take too long, and happy in the sense that a look from her now was able to affect what had formerly been so painfully refused her, she watched the progress of the work in the moonlit castle court. The men raised the enormous stone with an effort, now and then indeed one of their number would sigh as he remembered that they were destroying the work of their former beloved mistress, but the labour was far lighter than they had imagined. It seemed as if a power within the spring itself were aiding them in raising the stone. It is just, said the workmen, to each other in astonishment, as if the water within had become a springing fountain, and the stone rose higher and higher, and almost without the assistance of the workmen, it rolled slowly down upon the pavement with a hollow sound. But from the opening of the fountain there rose solemnly a white column of water. At first they imagined it had really become a springing fountain till they perceived that the rising form was a pale female figure veiled in white. She was weeping bitterly, raising her hands wailingly above her head and ringing them, as she walked with a slow and serious step to the castle building. The servants fled from the spring. The bride, pale and stiff with horror, stood at the window with her attendance. When the figure had now come close beneath her room, it looked moaningly up to her, and Bertelda thought she could recognize beneath the veil the pale features of Undine. But the sorrowing form passed on, sad, reluctant and faltering, as if passing to execution. The night was to be called, but none of her maids ventured from the spot, and even the bride herself became mute, as if trembling at her own voice. While they were still standing fearfully at the window, motionless as statues, the strange wanderer had reached the castle, had passed up the well-known stairs and through the well-known halls, even in silent tears. Alas how different had she once wandered through them. The night, partly undressed, had already dismissed his attendance and in a mood of deep dejection he was standing before a large mirror, a taper was burning dimly beside him. There was a gentle tap at his door. Undine used to tap thus when she wanted playfully to tease him. It is all fancy, said he to himself, I must seek my nuptial bed. So you must, but it must be a cold one, he heard a tearful voice say from without, and then he saw in the mirror his door opening slowly, slowly, and the white figure entered, carefully closing it behind her. They have opened the spring, said she softly, and now I am here. And you must die. He felt in his paralyzed heart that it could not be otherwise, but covering his eyes with his hands he said, Do not make me mad with terror in my hour of death. If you wear a hideous face behind that veil, do not raise it, but take my life, and let me see you not. Alas, replied the figure, will you then not look upon me once more? I am as fair as when you wooed me on the promontory. Oh, if it were so, side-hold the brand, and if I might die in your fond embrace. Most gladly my loved one, said she, and throwing her veil back, her lovely face smiled forth divinely beautiful. Trembling with love and with the approach of death, she kissed him with a holy kiss. But not relaxing her hold, she pressed him fervently to her, and as if she would weep away her soul. Tears rushed into the night's eyes, and seemed to surge through his heaving breast, till at length his breathing ceased. And he fell softly back from the beautiful arms of Undeen upon the pillows of his couch. A corpse. I have wept him to death, said she to some servants who met her in the ante-chamber, and passing through the affrighted group, she went slowly out toward the fountain. CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XIX How the night-hulled brand was buried. Father Heilman had returned to the castle as soon as the death of the Lord of Ringstetten had been made known in the neighborhood, and he appeared at the very same moment that the monk who had married the unfortunate couple was fleeing from the gates, overwhelmed with fear and terror. It is well, replied Heilman, when he was informed of this. Now my duties begin, and I need no associate. Upon this he began to console the bride, now a widow, small result as it produced upon her worldly, thoughtless mind. The old fisherman, on the other hand, although heartily grieved, was far more resigned to the fate which had befallen his daughter and son-in-law. And while Bertolda could not refrain from abusing Undine as a murderous and sorcerous, the old man calmly said, It could not be otherwise, after all. I see nothing in it but the judgment of God, and no one's heart has been more deeply grieved by Hulledbrand's death, than that of her by whom it was inflicted, the poor, forsaken Undine. At the same time he assisted in arranging the funeral solemnities as befitted the rank of the deceased.  And this church had been endowed with rich privileges and gifts both by these ancestors and by himself. His shield and helmet lay already on the coffin, to be lowered with it into the grave, for Sir Hulledbrand, of Ringstetten, had died the last of his race. The mourners began their sorrowful march, singing requiems under the bright, calm canopy of heaven. Father Hullman walked in advance, bearing a high crucifix, and the inconsolable Bertolda followed, supported by her aged father. Suddenly in the midst of the black-robed attendance in the widow's train a snow-white figure was seen, closely veiled and ringing her hands with fervent sorrow. Those near whom she moved felt a secret dread, and retreated either backward or to the side, increasing by their movements the alarm of the others near to whom the white stranger was now advancing. And thus a confusion in the funeral train was well nigh beginning. Some of the military escort were so daring as to address the figure and to attempt to remove it from the procession. But she seemed to vanish from under their hands, and yet was immediately seen advancing again amid the dismal courtage with slow and solemn step. At length, in consequence of the continued shrinking of the attendance to the right and to the left, she came close behind Bertolda. The figure now moved so slowly that the widow did not perceive it, and it walked meekly and humbly behind her, undisturbed. This lasted till they came to the churchyard, where the procession formed a circle round the open grave. Then Bertolda saw her unbidden companion and, starting up half in anger and half in terror, she commended her to leave the night's last resting place. The veiled figure, however, gently shook her head in refusal, and raised her hands as if in humble supplication to Bertolda, deeply agitating her by the action, and recalling to her with tears how Undine had so kindly wished to give her that coral necklace on the Danube. Father Heilmann motioned with his hand and commanded silence as they were to pray in mute devotion over the body, which they were now covering with the earth. Bertolda knelt silently and all knelt, even the grave-diggers among the rest when they had finished their task. But when they rose again the white stranger had vanished, on the spot where she had knelt there gushed out of the turf a little silver spring, which rippled and murmured away till it had almost entirely encircled the night's grave. Then it ran further and emptied itself into a lake which lay by the side of the burial-place. Even to this day the inhabitants of the village show the spring, and cherish the belief that it is the bore rejected Undine who in this manner still embraces her husband in her loving arms.


Being a private investigator means two things. You can be sure you'll run into trouble and you can never be sure you'll get out of it. Well, there's not much you can do about it, I guess. Except, like Julie always says, Walk softly, Peter Troy. Now Peter Troy investigates the vanquished Venus. Julie has everything, I guess.  The most luscious lips you ever saw. And she can take dictation at 120 words a minute. She also has a set of rules specifically designed to keep erring private eyes on the straight and narrow. You'll meet her again because she guards the outer office of my sanctum with all the devotion of a Tigris at bay. But for the moment I want you to think of another girl. A girl who'd take you gently by the hand, lead you headlong into a bubbling cauldron of real trouble. Her name was Mary Strube, only you'd know her as Leona Laramie. The brother where Mary went, applause was sure to follow. Thank you. And very soon, ladies and gentlemen, the judges will decide the name of the lucky lady who will be crowned Miss London Town of 1962. Now please stand by, and in a moment the judges will announce the winner. It's a foregone conclusion, Colligan. Leona Laramie will win this contest hands down. None of the other girls come anywhere near her for looks and boys. The judges don't even have to swap ballot tickets. Leona's got it in the bay. And if Amalgamated Studios let her, she'll go on and win the Miss Universe contest next year. Leona's got everything. What a girl. You can say that again. It's your decision, Mr. Colligan. Thanks. Well? What do you think? Leona Laramie, eh? Uh-huh. Come out, Miss Leona Laramie. Well, what is she? Miss Leona Laramie. Mr. Colligan, sir. Yes, what is it? What's going on back there? There's been some trouble. What sort of trouble? Something happened to Miss Laramie. Yes, she's dead, sir. Art? She's dead, sir. Someone's killed her. So Mary's Strube alias Leona Laramie never got to collect her fabulous prices. They found her backstage lying in the dark corner. Someone shot her straight through the heart. Now I could hold in on this case, not by any client, but by Inspector Morris Caswell of New Scotland Yard. Apparently he didn't come to me for advice either. He came to shoot questions. And why? I won't tell you. And Leona Laramie's cute little gold embossed address book. He found my name and my telephone number. Mr. Clayton, straightforward answer. Try that's all I want. Teach you don't have to say a thing till I get a lawyer. Well, thanks for your complete confidence in my innocence, honey boy. Now come on, Troy. I want the John name doing an error address book. Well, you're not going to believe me if I say it on now, are you, Inspector? No, I thought not. Come on now, Troy. I never met the lady in question. I can either believe that or I can hold me off of the Huska right this instant. Yeah. Inspector Leona Laramie really wasn't Pete's type. You ever see the girl, Julie? Well, no. And Troy wears trousers, doesn't he? She was his type. You have that address book on you? I have, may I? And I left a marker at the spot. That is your name and your phone number, isn't it? Oh, come on now, Troy. Look, I'm sorry. I never met the girl. Don't be quiet. Look, I never... All right. All right. Am I a suspect? You could be him. And for the time being, let me just... I know, I know. Don't go taking any trips out of town. Goodbye, Inspector. Goodbye, Troy. Oh. Pete. I never met the girl. I believe you. Well, thanks. But your name wasn't her address book. How did it get there? Well, that's something I'm going to find out, honey. Oh, now, Pete. Why don't you just let the inspector... Now, take this time before I forget it, eh? All right. You ready? Mm-hmm. Elaine Delorme, Grosvenor 8838. Mm-hmm. Gustav, Chelsea 6653. Gilded Jason, Mayfair 2937. Have you got him? Uh-huh. Now, memorize those names and phone numbers before you grab the book back. And they could give us some sort of a lead. You can forget Gustav in Chelsea. Mm-hmm. All right, Grosvenor. Very good one, too. When my errant boss has the money to pay me my wages, I go there for a hairdo. Oh, good. Mm-hmm. Pete, why go to all the trouble of following up the others? I've got an unpleasant feeling that... Look, honeybun, Caswell thinks the late Leona Laramie was one of my girlfriends, right? Mm-hmm. Well, I know that isn't so. Unfortunately. So? So, obviously, she took my name down for business reasons. And I think Leona wanted to hire herself a private investigator. And if she wanted the services of a private investigator... She could have been in some sort of trouble. Which, in turn, could give us some sort of a motive for a murder. Brilliant. I think so, too. So, what's the next step? Well, we ring up our good friend at the Metropolitan Telephone Exchange and we get him to find out the addresses of Helene de Lorne of Grosvenor 8838, Gilded Jason of Mayfair. What was it? Uh, 2937? Yeah. Mm-hmm. You're not a policeman, Mr. Troy. No, a private investigator. Then... Mr. Lorne, my name and phone number were found in Leona's address book. Obviously, she wanted to hire me for some reason. If I could just find out what... Will I say something funny? Oh, no, but I think there must be some mistake. Why should Leona want the services of a detective? She had no real worries or troubles. You're certain of this? Well, of course, I was her closest friend. No worries or troubles, eh? Definitely not. And why does she end up with a bullet in her heart, Mr. Lorne? I don't know. Oh, I think it was a case of mistaken identity, Mr. Troy. I think the killer was after someone else and fool Leona. Well, I think it's a tragedy. Yes, it certainly is. You got her address? Yes. 57 Carla Mewes, Chelsea. Oh, she lived there alone? Yes, but you will not find the name Leona Laramie on her postbox. Her real name was Mary Strube. Strube? Yes, she thought Leona Laramie sounds more exotic, you understand? Yeah, I had the figures. Listen, could you give me a list of her immediate friends? Certainly. Beside you is my telephone number index. You'll find a list of names and numbers in it, Mr. Troy. They're my friends, and they were also Leona's friends. Copy them if you wish. Oh, thank you. That's quite a list. I have quite a number of friends and acquaintances, Mr. Troy. Are you looking for any particular number in there? Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, I am Jason. Gilda Jason. She lives in Mayfair. Jason? Yes. No, no, Fred, I can't help you. I don't know any Gilda Jason. Well, Mr. Lorne, if you'd like to help... Of course. You could copy out those names and numbers in your book and put them in an envelope and send them to my office. Certainly. Well, thanks a lot. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Oh, you didn't want to ask me any more questions? No, but if I think of anything... Please, go around. Well, thanks again and goodbye for the... Peter Troy, huh? Nice. Hello, Gustavs. This is Alain Delorme. I should like to make an appointment to have my hair set this afternoon, please. Two-thirty, excellent. And will you be sure to have Miss Gilda Jason attend to me? That's right. Gilda Jason. She always looks after me. No, good Bartlett. It's not here. Corrigan, it must be. It has to be. We've searched this place from top to bottom. Gilda must have taken it off Leona's body. She's the only person who had the opportunity. The big boy himself could be pulling a double cross. He wouldn't dare. Well... In any case, Gilda Jason has disappeared, hasn't she? Isn't that proof enough that she's got it? Oh, I suppose so. So now we've got to find Gilda. I think that... Who's that devil? Police. They've already been here looking for her. Who then? I think we'd better find out. I'll keep you covered just in case. Yes. I'm looking for Miss Gilda Jason. Is she at home, please? Gilda Jason. Yes. I'm afraid you must have made some sort of mistake. No, I checked with the janitor downstairs. Well, I'm afraid I can't help you. You see, I've just moved into this apartment.  A favor? Yes. Tell your friend with a gun I can see his reflection in the hall mirror. Well, now if you don't mind, I'll come in. All right. Now, just as soon as you tell your playman to drop his gun. Otherwise, I'm liable to pull the trigger on this one. Cortigan. All right, all right. Well, now that's better. Place isn't quite a mess, isn't it? Spring cleaning or... You're just plain looking for something. Who are you? Troy. Peter Troy. Troy Investigations. A snooper. Sticks and stones. What do you want? Miss Gilda Jason. As you can see, she's not here. That's right. Now it's my turn to ask questions. What are you fellas looking for in here? Come now, you're not being very cooperative. Are you friends with Miss Jason?   Troy, it's your turn to drop the gun now. Why? Because there's someone in that window behind you. No, come off it. It's one of the oldest gags in the book. No one's going to be secretary. Well, you can't say I didn't warn him. Colligan, you better go over to the window and let Gustav in. I heard the window pane explode behind me.  I saw the floor coming up to hit me just before I blacked out. Million years passed and while they were passing I was living through a nightmare. Someone's name seemed to keep crashing through my mind and telephone numbers lit up like neon lights. I saw Helene Delorme smiling at me. My ears I could hear Inspector Caswell's voice droning on and on. I mean, that wasn't part of the nightmare. That was real. It took me quite a time to realize it was coming out of it and that I was still alive. He has the luck of the married devil. All right, she should be stern, cold, dead. In the market? Luckily, the bullet hit his head and not somewhere vital. Pete, Pete, are you all right? Can you hear me? Yes, I can hear you, Julie. Are you all right? No. Tell that fellow with the pneumatic drill to lay off. It's not a soundtrack. This place is as quiet as the grave. I don't mention that word. Now, are you going to do some talking? What did you get here? The janitor reported a gunshot to the police. What happened? Well, I came to visit a lady. Hilda Jason? Yeah, that's right. Instead I found two characters ransacking the place. One of them was armed. Third, Mr. Sneaked Up Outside that window over there in the fire escape. He didn't wait to open the window before he pulled the trigger. Good job he didn't. The blast must have defected the shot of action. I mean, who were the men? Well, I didn't get their names. Oh. But Miss Jason had already disappeared. Yes, I could have told you that. We'd already checked. She hasn't been here since Leonel Laramir was killed. Neither has she been to a place of work. Where's that? My hairdresser's. Gustav of Chelsea. Gustav? Yes, and we very much like to know how a hairdresser's assistant can afford to live in a Mayfair apartment. Gustav, that's the name. What are you talking about? Just before I passed out, one of the characters mentioned a man's name. It was Gustav. He was the one outside the window, the one that shot me. Don't be absurd. Inspector, tell you... Hilda, you better look after your wandering boy. I think he's a little delirious. Oh. Come on, Peter. I've got your car. Oh, Troy, just before you go. I'd like a description of those two men who were in this page. One of them might seem before. The other one called him Corrigan. You know any celebrity named Corrigan? Well, there's an entrepreneur called Corrigan. Oh, yes, that's right. I've seen his picture in the papers. He organizes beauty contests. Beauty contests, eh? Like the one Leona Laramie entered. Now, Troy, you'd better keep out of this. Ah, so you know more than you're telling, Inspector. I've got a personal stake in this case now. I don't like guys taking potshots at me through windows. How much do you know, Troy? I'm very little. I'm adding to it all the time. Look, I've had a man on your tail. He saw you going to Helene Delorme's place. You find out anything there?  I saw three names in that address book you showed me. Helene Delorme's, Gilda Jason's, and Gustaf's, together with their phone numbers. Now, Helene Delorme said she'd never heard of the Jason girl. But in her phone index, there were two phone numbers beside the name Gustaf. She goes to the same headroom. Are these two numbers, Troy? One was Gustaf's and Chelsea. The other number was, uh... Mayfair 2937. Gilda Jason's number. Exactly. So how come she has Gilda's phone number in her book when she says she doesn't know the girl, huh? Hence, I came straight round here. Oh. Hence, I nearly stopped a bullet. Now, how about you fitting a few of the pieces together and expect her in? Well, we've got a name for our friend Gustaf, Troy. His real name's Emile Delorme. Delorme? That's right. He's Helene's husband. Well, Delorme operates one of the biggest diamond smuggling syndicates in the world. And we've been on his tail for months. A recent raid joined forces with Joseph Corrigan and a newspaper man called Harry Bartlett. No. London's headquarters. And from here, they distribute the gems to just about every part of the world. How? They have carriers. Beauty queens. Leona Laramie, for instance. That's right. Of course. A trip round the world is part of the prize. Right again. When we found Leona's body, Troy, it was minus one of her high-heeled shoes. I see. And hidden in that shoe... Diamond's probably been... And the Jason girl? She was the last person to see Leona alive. And those two fellas, Corrigan and Bartlett, were here searching the place for that shoe. Gilder must have stolen it. So you figure things out from there, Troy, because that's as far as we've got. Good evening, Gilda. Good stuff. I've been waiting a long time for you. How did you know I was here? You thought you obvious, my dear. Corrigan and Bartlett searched your apartment and found nothing. I, on the other hand, did not bother to look for a poor Leona's shoe. I knew it wouldn't be there. Instead, I hunted for some clue as to your whereabouts. I found it in the West Paper basket. Good stuff. Please. A discarded copy of the classified section of the London Dairy Tribune. In me flats to let column, I found some addresses ticked off. I just checked on them. Here, they told me that a young lady answering to your description had rented this place a few years ago. Good stuff. If you want the diamonds... Oh, yes. I want them, Gilda. But I also want some sort of an explanation. It was Leona's idea. She was getting scared. I knew that. That's why she had to die. You killed her? Oh, yes. This sound of the tumultuous applause from her admiring audience muffled the sound of this shot. I find that ironic. She said she was getting out. She asked me to come with her. The diamonds hidden in her shoe? We had to have money. It's another diamond I worry about, Gilda. It's the fact that you double-crossed me. I knew about Leona. But you were a deep shock to me. Look, I've worked for you for years, Gustav. You and your wife. And all that time... Which makes it all the more hurtful, my dear. I trusted you. Now I must really set you up as an example to the others who work for me. What are you going to do? Now what do you think? No, please. You had such a good job, Gilda. Personal hairdresser to the various beauty queens who went abroad. All you had to do was to keep your eye on them. So easy. You merely had to make sure they handed over the stones to our various contacts abroad. But you became greedy. No, I just want to get out of the... But no one ever gets out of this business, Gilda. Not alive, anyway. I tell you, I don't know what you're talking about. Gustav is merely my hairdresser. And he left here only 15 minutes ago, Mr. Delorme. No. My secretary was watching the place. She saw him come in here. She was mistaken. He's her hairdresser too. She recognized him. Gustav of Chelsea, Emile Delorme, Diamond Smudler, the one and the same person. Now you'd better do some talking because unless I'm very much mistaken, the police are going to pay you another visit very soon. The police? That's right. Mr. Troy. How would your husband doing here? What did he want? He held as an accessory to murder. Oh, no. For your information, the police dug a bullet out of some woodwork in Gilda Jason's flat. The bullet fired at me by her husband. Now that matches the one taken from Leona Laramy's body. Can you understand what that means? Yes. Good. But I had nothing to do with her death. In this country as an accessory, you get the same punishment as a killer. Now I'm getting impatient. He said he'd found Gilda Jason. Where is she? 34 Cochran Streets in Johnswood. All right. Oh, one last thing.  She worked for my husband. Oh, I know that. She was frightened. She wanted to leave us. But she knew Amy Gustav never allowed anyone to leave his employment. Obviously, she wanted to hire a private investigator as a bodyguard. My husband found your name in her notebook and that made him think she was ready to run away. So it was my name in Leona's notebook that was her death warrant. But what happens to me? You've got to give me some protection. Lady, in my book, you're just one great hire and your killer husband. The only thing you didn't do is pull the trigger. Tell your story to the police. Oh, no. Wait. Maybe you'll find out that I... He killed me. Just as he killed her. Amy truly is sorry about this, Gilda. Truly is sorry. Gustav, give me another chance. Please, one more chance. Tell me where the diamonds are. Oh, I'll find the diamonds anyway. You have no imagination. But they are in this room somewhere.  So they're somewhere over there. Good. They won't be difficult to find. Well, good-bye, Gilda. Please. Better open this window, Gilda. I only winged them. He picks up the gun he made while I go cooking your goose. Open the window. Yes. Oh, thanks. Who are you? Troy, Peter Troy. Your girlfriend, Leona, was going to contact me. Don't try anything, Gustav. My next bullet won't just graze around. Believe me, we're quits now. We both fell for the same gag. I don't understand. Police will tell you all about it. Police? Yes. I'm afraid you've got a lot of questions to answer, Gilda. Off-hand, I'd say that was them now. Go let them in. Miss Jason, where are the police? Troy, I thought you wouldn't be too far behind, Inspector. They can give you the tip, too. Well, here with Gustav or Chelsea or Emile de Lorne. Whichever you please. Slightly the worse for where. You have nothing on me. Oh, tell them, Inspector. Are you all right? I heard a gunshot. Pete. All right, Constable. Let her through. She's Mr. Troy's secretary. Pete. I heard the gunshot from the street below, and I was... I'm okay, honey bun. Go, Pete. Troy, I want a statement from you. I'll dictate it to my secretary. Now, Inspector. Pete, will you never learn? Take a statement, please, Julie. Pete. On the night of June the 18th of this year, I, Peter Troy, draw investigations with... Now, you're not paying attention, Julie. That's right. I... Oh, gosh. Walk softly, Peter Troy. Tried and convicted on a charge of murder together with a whole heap of other things. His wife, Elaine de Lorne, was sentenced to 10 years penal servitude. Corrigan and Bartlett both landed seven years apiece. Gilda Jason. Well, the judge went easier. She turned Queen's Evidence, gave the crown the complete lowdown on a meal de Lorne's diamond smuggling operation. That's for me. Well, I probably went to bed for a couple of days. I don't care what anyone says. The bowl of the plaza furrow across your temple is just no good for the Constitution at all. It took 48 hours with that guy with the pneumatic gill to finish digging a hole in my head.