I shook him off.
"Good heavens, Siebach! What should he suspect? Can't you explain this horrible thing?"
He recovered his self-command almost immediately, and smiled feebly.
"No. I can't," he said. "Am I to explain all my family skeletons, Bazarac?"
"Not if you do not wish."
And I left him standing by the skeleton of the Stone Rider.
*****
For some years I did not come across Count Siebach von Salitz—neither, I am afraid, did I wish to do so. Of the Stone Rider—who had proved to be no stone at all—I often thought, but at last I hardly regarded the incident as anything more than the recollection of a bad dream. Auberthal and I met frequently, and often discussed our adventure; and I believed that he had suspicions concerning Siebach which I did not care to share. But one evening as we sat in the "Atelier Espagnol"—Auberthal and myself—someone knocked at the door and came hastily in. I recognised one of Siebach's servants.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Will M. Bazarac or M. Auberthal come to my master at once? He is very ill at the Hôtel ——."