fitting that I do so. Ah, well I remember his cheerful 'Good morning' and his fine wines. He was a generous man, too, always giving alms, and he paid the highest taxes in the town. No one was more honest, either. A very fine man."
The mayor blew his nose gently, as he was in the presence of the dead. All nodded their heads in agreement except Father Josef, who was absorbed in a prayer-book. His pale hands stood out against his black cassock, and his lips moved slightly; several minutes passed before he looked up.
"Dear God, dear God," prayed Feldenpflanz over and over as he felt the true death approaching. But what was this? He felt a tremor pass over his body. His heart beat faster, and a warm flush passed over his numbed limbs! Slowly, he felt his will creep down the sleeping nerves into his extremities. Very soon now, he hoped, freedom would be his.
"Let us go now," said the priest, and a pang of terror passed through the man in the coffin. He heard the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet. Now was the moment! Now he must move! The beating of his heart was tumultuous; his finger-tips were tingling; his face felt hot and his head full of blood. He heard the footsteps cease; they had evidently paused over him. He heard the rustle of clothing as they rubbed against the coffin. Then the butcher spoke, in a strained tone.
"How very life-like indeed! His face flushes with blood!"
Feldenpflanz made a supreme effort of will. The darkness seemed to shake—and his eyes were open! Above him he saw six faces in a frozen tableau.
Father Josef wore a look of utmost horror and shock.
The tailor's face, long and pale and drawn, wore an expression of fear and shocked suspicion.
The butcher opened eyes and mouth wide.
The grocer crossed himself again and again, his lips moving in frantic prayer.
The blacksmith, more afraid of the supernatural than the rest, closed his eyes, gasped, and staggered back.
The mayor stared for a moment with bulging eyes, then bawled out a single word:
"Vampire!"
Then there came the sound of running and shouting, and Feldenpflanz saw the faces disappear from above his prostrate, form, except that of Father Josef, who was reading a Latin invocation from his prayer-book.
The cataleptic victim, now desperate, heard the noise of many feet running toward him, and the faces of the blacksmith and the butcher burst into view above him. There was a sound of fumbling at the side of the coffin, and then—the lid was raised. He was saved!
But what was this? The butcher had placed a knife against his left side, and the blacksmith raised a hammer high. There came to his ears the monotone of Father Josef's Latin prayer.
Feldenpflanz made inarticulate sounds.
"No, n', huh, huh, help, no!"
The hammer rose and fell. One! Two! Three!
Herr Feldenpflanz ceased to think of escape.
