He surged to his feet, lifting Irma as if she were a child. Miss Burton’s color 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 inapropos. Blankenhagen bared his teeth at George and stamped toward 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 skeptic. 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.