Talk about dark. I hadn’t seen anything like it since the old days on the farm. The faint moonlight from the window didn’t help much, and when I closed the door of my room behind me the corridor was pitch-black. I didn’t want to use the flashlight until it was necessary, so I stood waiting for my eyes to adjust.

A hand touched my shoulder.

I thought of screaming, but my vocal cords didn’t cooperate. Before I could get them into operation I heard a voice.

“Hi,” it whispered.

“Tony,” I whispered back. “You rat.”

“Scare you?”

“Scared? Me?”

“I figured you’d be prowling tonight. Couldn’t let you go alone. Who knows, you might be nervous.”

“Sssh!”

“Come on, let’s get away from all these doors.”

He found my hand, and I let him lead me until a turn in the corridor brought light—the sickly sheen of the moon filtering through the leaded panes of a window set high above an ascending stair. Tony stopped.

“Those are the tower stairs.”

“I was heading for the Great Hall.”

“Down this way.”

As we shuffled along the dark passageways, my pulse was uncomfortably quick. The castle was too quiet. There weren’t even the creaks and squeaks of settling timber. This place had settled centuries ago.

Finally we stepped onto the balcony over the Great Hall. I put one hand on the balustrade and moved back in alarm as it gave slightly. The Schloss needed repairs. No doubt there wasn’t enough money. The proud old family of the Drachensteins wouldn’t have gone into the innkeeping business unless they needed cash. I reminded myself not to lean heavily against that balustrade.

Below, in the Hall, the armored shapes were dim in the gray moonlight. The shadows of tree branches swaying in the night wind slid back and forth across the polished floor….

My scalp prickled. That motion was no swaying shadow. There was something moving at the far end of the Hall — something pale and slim, like a column of foggy light.

The thing came out into the moonlight. I forgot my qualms about the shaky banister, and clutched it with straining fingers.

The figure below had the face of the woman in the portrait. I could see it distinctly in the light from the windows, even to its expression. The eyes were set and staring; the face was as blank as the face on the painted canvas.

The apparition wore a long, light robe, with flowing sleeves. The feet—if it had feet—were hidden by the folds of the garment, so that it seemed to float instead of walk. Slowly it glided across the floor, the staring eyes raised, the lips slightly parted.