Such was the tragic end of Wilhelm Storitz.Alas, his death had come too late.Although the Roderich family had now no more to fear from him, his death had aggravated the position rather than improved it, for it robbed us of any hope of finding Myra.

Borne down by the responsibility which weighed upon him, Captain Haralan was looking unhappily at his fallen enemy.At last, making up his mind to accept this irreparable disaster, he made a gesture of despair and slowly walked away towards the Roderich home to inform his family of these deplorable events.

On the other hand Lieutenant Armgard and I stayed where we were, along with M.Stepark, who had come, as though miraculously, from we knew not where.The silence was unbroken in spite of these hundreds of men, whose curiosity almost amounted to agony, who were crowding around us, pressing against one another, striving to see better.

All eyes were fixed on the corpse.Turned somewhat to his left side, his clothes stained with blood, his face colourless, his hand still grasping the lieutenant's sword, his left arm bent under him.Wilhelm Storitz was ripe for that tomb from which his maleficent power had not been enough to save him.

‘It really is him!'murmured M.Stepark, after looking at him for some time.

The policemen had come up to us, though not without some apprehension.They recognised him too.To make certain of what he saw by touching it, M.Stepark fingered the corpse from head to foot.

‘Dead!Stone dead!'he declared, as he got up.

‘And now what are you going to do, M.Stepark?'Lieutenant Armgard asked him.

‘I'm going to have this body taken to the Town Hall, 'was the answer.

‘Publicly?'I asked.

‘Publicly.All Ragz must know that Wilhelm Storitz is dead.They won't believe that until they've seen his body.'

‘And until he's buried, 'I added.

‘If he is buried.'said M.Stepark.

‘If he is buried?'I repeated.

‘Yes, 'the Chief of Police explained.‘To my mind it would be better to burn this corpse and scatter its ashes to the wind, as they used to do with sorcerers in the Middle Ages.'

He sent for a litter and went off with most of his men, taking with him his prisoner, now reduced to a very commonplace sort of man since he had ceased to be invisible.Meanwhile Lieutenant Armgard and I went back to Dr.Roderich's.

Captain Haralan had already returned to his father to whom he had explained everything that had taken place.In Madame Roderich's state of mind, it was thought best not to tell her anything about it.The death of Wilhelm Storitz would not give her back her daughter.

Neither did my brother know anything so far.We should however have to tell him, and that was why we had word sent to him that we were waiting for him in the Doctor's study.

It was not with a feeling of satisfied vengeance that he received the news we brought him.He burst into sobs, while desperate words rose to his lips.

‘He's dead……You've killed him……He's dead, and he hasn't spoken……Myra……My poor Myra……I shall never see her again!'

At that outburst of grief, what could I say……Yet I tried.No, we mustn't give up all hope.We didn't know where Myra was, but one man knew it, Wilhelm Storitz'servant.Well, we had that man under lock and key.We should question him, and, as he did not have the same interest as his master in keeping silent, he would speak……We should persuade him to, did it cost us a fortune……If necessary we should make him, if it meant putting him to the torture……Myra should be restored to her family, to her husband, and her reason would return with care, with tenderness and love……

Marc heard nothing of this.He wished to hear nothing of it.To his mind, the only person who could have told him was dead.We ought not to have killed him before wresting his secret from him.

I did not know how to calm my brother, but suddenly our conversation was interrupted by a tumult outside.We rushed to the window which opened on to the corner of the Boulevard.

What was happening now……In our present state of mind, I fancy that nothing would have surprised us, not even the resurrection of Wilhelm Storitz!

It was only his procession to the mortuary.The corpse, borne on a litter, was being carried by four policemen accompanied by a large escort.So Ragz was going to know that Wilhelm Storitz was dead and that the reign of terror was over.

M.Stepark had wanted to display this corpse everywhere.It was to be taken along the Boulevard and the main streets, and through the most densely populated districts, before ending up at the Town Hall.

To my mind it would have been better for it not to pass the Roderich's.

My brother had joined us at the window.On seeing that bloodstained corpse he gave a cry of despair—how gladly he would have restored it to life, were it at the price of his own.

The crowd gave itself up to the most violent demonstrations.Living, they would have hung Wilhelm Storitz, have drawn and quartered him.Dead, they spared his body.But as M.Stepark had suggested, they certainly did not want him to be buried like the general run of mortals.They insisted that he should be burnt in the public square or thrown into the Danube, whose waters would carry him off to the fardistant depths of the Black Sea.

For a quarter of an hour cries rang out before the house, then the silence descended.

Captain Haralan told us that he was going to the Town Hall.There he meant to act in such a way that Hermann should be interrogated on the spot.We agreed, and he left the house in company with Lieutenant Armgard.

I stayed beside my brother.How grief-stricken were the hours I spent with him……I could not calm him, and his growing excitement alarmed me.He was slipping away from me, I realised, and I feared a crisis from which he would not be able to recover.He refused to listen to me.He would not argue.He had only the one idea, a fixed idea, to go and look for Myra.

‘And you'll go with me, Henri, 'he declared.

All that I could get him to agree was that we should await Captain Haralan's return.He did not reappear with his comrade until four, when the news he brought was the worst we could have expected.Hermann had certainly been interrogated, but he had been interrogated in vain.In vain the Captain, M.Stepark, the Governor himself, had threatened him, begged him, implored him.In vain had the man been offered a fortune, in vain had he been warned of the worst punishments if he refused to speak.They had got nothing out of him.Hermann had not changed his story for a moment.He did not know where Myra was.Even her kidnapping was unknown to him, his master not having thought fit to tell him his plans.

After three hours of efforts and struggle, the questioners had to give in to the evidence.Hermann was in good faith and was speaking the truth.His ignorance was genuine.Henceforth we must give up all hopes of ever again seeing the hapless Myra.

What a sad end to our day!Collapsed in our chairs, borne down by distress, we let time flow on without saying a word.What indeed could we have said that we had not said and repeated a hundred times?

A little before eight the servant brought in the lamps.As Dr.Roderich was still with his wife, there was nobody in the drawing-room except the two officers, my brother, and myself.As the servant went out, his task performed, the clock began to clang out its eight strokes.

At that very moment the gallery door was flung open.No doubt some gust of air coming from the garden had thrust it open, for I never saw anyone.But what was really still more extraordinary, was that it shut of itself……

And then—no, never shall I forget that scene!—a voice was heard.Not the coarse voice, as on that other evening, which had insulted us with the Hymn of Hate.

‘Marc, 'she said, ‘and you, M.Henri, and you, Haralan, what are you doing here?It's time for dinner, and I'm dying of hunger.'

It was Myra, Myra herself, Myra who had regained her reason, Myra healed……Anyone would have said she had come down from her room as usual.It was Myra who could see us and whom we could not see……It was Myra invisible……

Never had words so simple produced such an effect.Bewildered, nailed to our chairs, we dared neither move nor speak, nor go towards the place whence that voice came.Yet Myra was there, alive, and as we knew, tangible in her invisibility……

Where had she come from……From the house where her kidnapper had taken her……Then had she been able to escape, to get through the town, to come back into the house……Yet the doors had been shut, and nobody had opened them……

No—and we were not slow in realising the explanation of her presence—she had come down from the room where Wilhelm Storitz had rendered her invisible and left her.While we thought she was outside the house, she had not left her bed.She had stayed stretched out upon it, unable to move, still silent and unconscious, for those twenty-four hours.It had never entered anybody's head that she might be there, and indeed, why should anybody have thought of it?

Wilhelm Storitz had no doubt been unable to kidnap her at once, but he would have completed his crime if, that very morning, the sword-thrust given by Captain Haralan had not for ever prevented him from doing so.

And here was Myra who had recovered her reason—perhaps under the influence of that liquid which Wilhelm Storitz had made her drink—Myra, ignorant of all that had happened since that scene in the Cathedral.Myra was there in the midst of us talking to us, able to see us, but not being able, in the twilight, to realise that she could not see herself.

Marc had risen, his arms opened as if to embrace her……

She continued, ‘But what's the matter with you?I'm talking to you, and you're not answering.You all seem to be surprised to see me.What's happened……Why isn't Mother here?Is she ill?’

The door was again opened, and Dr.Roderich came in.Myra at once dashed towards him—at least that was what we thought—for she exclaimed, ‘Oh, father……What's the matter……Why are my brother and my husband looking so strange?'

The Doctor had paused, as though petrified, on the threshold.He had understood.

But Myra had gone up to him.She kissed him and repeated, “What's the matter?Mother?Where's Mother?'

‘Your Mother's quite well, my child, 'the daughter babbled.‘She'll be coming down.But you must rest my child, rest!'

At that moment Marc, who had found his wife's hand, drew her gently towards him, as though he were leading the blind.But she was not blind, though we others were unable to see her.My brother made her sit down beside him……

Frightened by the effect which her presence had produced, she did not speak, and Marc, in a trembling voice, murmured words which she could not understand.

‘Myra……My dear Myra……It's really you……I can feel you here……Beside me……Oh, my beloved one, don't leave me any more, I beg you……!'

‘My dear Marc, you seem bewildered-All of you……You're frightening me……Father, answer me.Is there anything wrong?'

Marc felt her getting up.He gently drew her down again.‘No, 'he said, ‘you mustn't distress yourself.Nothing's wrong, but speak to me, Myra, speak to me once more……Let me hear your voice……you……you……my wife……my beloved Myra……!'

Yes;that scene, we had beheld it;those words, we had heard them.We stayed there, our eyes staring, motionless, holding our breath, terrified by the thought that the only one who could restore Myra to her visible form was dead and had taken his secret with him!