The Gräfin turned away. Miss Burton joined her, and they went off together. Irma suggested a visit to a café, and Blankenhagen was so pleased at her good spirits he neglected to intimate that our presence was not wanted. So we went to The Golden Star, and drank beer, and made conversation. Irma was looking gorgeous. She giggled and flirted, turning from Blankenhagen to Tony with impartial goodwill. I noticed she didn’t bat her eyelashes at George.

As we were leaving the café I grabbed Tony and dragged him to the rear. He struggled some.

“I want to talk to you,” I said. “If you can tear yourself away from Cinderella for a minute.”

“She gets prettier all the time,” said Tony, watching the threesome which was now some distance ahead.

I wasn’t jealous. I merely felt he ought to face facts.

“Yes, she does, and I wonder why? How come she’s so relaxed and pleased with life these days?”

“Maybe she’s in love,” said Tony fatuously.

“And maybe she’s pleased because her plans are working.”

It took the romantic jerk several seconds to see what I meant.

“Irma?” he exclaimed, so loudly that I slapped my hand over his mouth. He pulled it off and continued, just as indignantly, but in a lower voice.

“You’re crazy jealous. How could she manipulate all our ghosts?”

“I will pass over your gratuitous and uncouth insult,” I said, “and point out a few solid facts. The profit motive applies just as well to Irma as it does to her aunt. So far as opportunity goes, she has the best of anyone. You saw the hidden stairs on the plans; she could have gotten out of her room and left the door locked. As for the armor, it would take a short man to wear it—or a woman. But the really damning fact is the séance. Unless you believe in possession—which I do not—how do you explain her reference to the fire? She’s lived here all her life, she could have found out about Konstanze’s death the same way you did.”

“I don’t buy the motive,” Tony said, but he was disturbed. “This is a damned roundabout way to get at a hidden treasure. She is the only one who could search openly for the shrine. Why all the ghosties and ghoulies? It’s a crazy way to act.”

“Maybe she is crazy. Maybe she has motives we don’t understand because we don’t know enough about the situation.”

“So what do we do now?”

“What we do is, you tell me about that mysterious envelope you slipped the minister.”

“Nothing to tell,” Tony said.

“Let us apply logic,” I said sarcastically. “You want someone to believe you kept something out of the steward’s belongings because there was important information in it—papers, maybe, in the pouch—though how you expect anyone to believe papers would survive… You think someone will try to dig up the…When, tonight?”

“That is the most ridiculous series of non sequiturs I’ve ever heard!”