knife, while the other hand was concealed in the folds of her robe.
The young count's tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he sank back in the chair exhausted and helpless. Unconsciousness began to numb his senses. He heard a clear, bell-like voice that seemed to come from far away: "Death comes; prepare!"
Richard awoke just as the first rays of the rising sun streamed across the floor of the study. The fire had gone out, and despite the sunny cheerfulness, the peculiar coldness that reminds one of death hung about the room.
The young man recalled vividly the dreadful experience of the night before—but was it a reality, or merely a dream caused by a creative and wandering imagination? Which was the truth the count could not say, for it seemed so vivid, yet so fantastic. He would tell Scrooge and get the old butler's advice on the matter.
There came a gentle tap on the door and Scrooge entered, bearing a breakfast tray.
"Good morning, Master Richard," began the butler. "How—why, what is the matter? Are you ill?" he asked in a startled tone when he beheld the count's features.
"I merely had a rather peculiar dream, Scrooge. I shall be all right in a few minutes."
"A dream? Not the—the priestess, Master Richard?" demanded the old man in a startled tone, his ruddy face becoming suddenly white.
"Yes, Scrooge, the priestess," replied the count with a peculiar absent look in his eyes. "I dreamed—or she really told me, I don’t know which—to prepare for death."
"My God!" gasped the terrified Scrooge, dropping the tray. "You are marked for death within twenty-four-hours. Come, we shall leave for the palace at once. Leave this accursed place, Master Richard!"
"No," answered the nobleman, slowly shaking his head. "I must stay here—to see her again. Her eyes—they have charmed me, so filled with passion. Scrooge, I love the priestess and I would die to see her again."
"You are bewitched by the fiend!" declared the butler, begging the count to leave the castle.
After vainly pleading with him, the old man finally left Richard.
Gathering the other servants, Scrooge told them of the apparition's appearance (for he knew it to be no dream) to their young master and stationed them near the study in a vain attempt to thwart the curse of impending death he believed must come.
Richard finally consented to Scrooge's staying in the study with him that evening, although he knew nothing of the platoon of armed servants without the doors.
As the night gradually wore on, both men began to doze. Once Scrooge awakened to find Count Richard softly snoring in the great leather chair by the table. Then Scrooge, too, began to snore.
The old butler was awakened by the rays of the sun shining in his face. Yawning and stretching, he arose from his cramped position and walked toward the window. Suddenly he stopped, his arms outstretched in astonished fear and horror. At his feet lay the cold body of Count Richard, his heart torn from his breast. The butler gave a cry and fainted beside his dead master. The frightened servants, hearing the cry, rushed into the room and stood horrified about the pair.
The next day the body of Count Richard was interred in the family vault of the counts of Wrightstone by the village priest. The servants with Scrooge closed up the haunted castle and departed for London.
The curse of Castle Wrightstone was ended. The specter priestess was seen no more, but the descendants of
