Usually so quiet, so happy, that the other Magyar cities envied it, it was now disturbed beyond all imagination. I cannot do better than to compare it to a city in an invaded country, under the perpetual dread of a bombardment, where everyone is asking where the first missile will fall, and whether his own house will not be the first to be destroyed.

Indeed, what was not to be feared from Wilhelm Storitz, seeing he had not left the town, as he himself had taken the trouble to let everybody know?

At Dr.Roderich's the position was even worse.The hapless Myra had not regained her reason.Her lips opened only to emit incoherent words, her haggard eyes saw nobody.She could not hear us.She could not recognise either her mother or Marc, who was soon able to join the Doctor at her bedside in her very own room, formerly so cheerful and now so sad.Was it only a transitory delirium, a crisis which care would overcome?Was her madness incurable?Who could Say?

So great was her weakness it seemed that the springs of her life were broken.Stretched on her bed, almost motionless, she hardly made even a gesture with her hand.Then we felt inclined to ask whether she were not seeking to tear away the veil of unconsciousness that enveloped her, if she was not seeking to exert her willpower.Marc bent over her, he spoke to her, he tried to catch a glimpse of a reply upon her lips, a sign of intelligence in her eyes……

Madame Roderich supported herself by an extraordinary moral force.If she ever gave herself any rest it was because her husband made her—and what sleep it was, troubled by nightmares, broken at the slightest sound!She kept thinking she could hear footsteps in her room.In spite of the precautions we had taken, she felt that he was there, he, the invisible and inapprehensible enemy, who had made his way into the house and was prowling round her daughter……She awoke in alarm, and regained a little of her calm, only on seeing the Doctor and Marc watching by Myra's bedside.If this state of things continued she would not be able to withstand it.

Several of Dr.Roderich's confréres came every day to hold a consultation.In spite of a long and minute examination of the sufferer, they could not say anything definite about her mental inertia.No reaction, no crisis.No, a complete indifference to everything external, the calmness of death before which their skill was powerless.

My brother never left Myra's room.For my part, I seldom went out of the house, unless it were to visit the Town Hall, where M.Stepark kept me in touch with what Ragz was saying.Through him I knew that its people were a prey to the liveliest apprehension, and in the popular imaginations it was not Wilhlem Storitz, but a gang of invisible men which he had raised, who had invaded a town undefended against their infernal machinations.

Captain Haralan, on the other hand, was often out of our fortress.Under the obsession of a fixed idea, he kept roaming about the streets.He never asked me to go with him.Had he some scheme in mind from which he feared I would try to deter him?Did he count upon the most improbable of chances to meet Wilhelm Storitz?Was he waiting for news that the man had been seen at Spremberg or elsewhere, to try to find him?I certainly should not have tried to keep him back.On the other hand, I should have gone with him, and I should have helped him to get rid of that malefactor.

But was there any chance of this happening?Most decidedly not.Neither in Ragz, nor anywhere else.

During the evening of 11th June I had a long talk with my brother.He seemed more overwhelmed than ever, and I was afraid that he would fall seriously ill.It would have been better to take him away from that town, to take him back to France, but I knew he would never consent to be separated from Myra.But was it impossible for the whole Roderich family to leave Ragz for a time?Did not the question deserve to be considered?I thought about it and promised myself to discuss it with the Doctor.

That day, when I finished our conversation, I said to Marc.‘My poor brother, I can see that you're ready to give up all hope;but you're wrong.Myra's life isn't in danger, as all the doctors agree.If she has lost her reason, it's only for a moment, believe me.She will regain possession of her intelligence, she will return to herself, to you, to all of you……’

‘You want me not to give up hope.'Marc's voice was choked by sobs.‘But even though my poor Myra recovers her reason, won't she still be at the mercy of that monster?Do you think his hatred will be satisfied by what he's done so far?And suppose he wants to carry his vengeance still further……Suppose he wants to……You know what I mean, Henri……He can do anything, and we're defenceless against him.’

‘No, 'I exclaimed, ‘No, Marc, it isn't impossible to fight him.'

‘But how……How?'Marc asked excitedly.‘No, Henri, you're not saying what you think.No, we're powerless before that wretch!The only way to escape him is to shut ourselves up like a prison.And there's nothing to say that, in spite of everything, he won't succeed in getting into the house.’

Marc's excitement kept me from replying.He was listening only to himself.He added, as he grasped my hands:

‘Who's to say that we're alone at this very moment?I never go from one room to another, into the drawing-room, into the gallery, without saying to myself that he may be following me……I feel that someone is walking beside me……that someone is eluding me……that he's backing away before me and that he vanishes when I'm about to grasp him……'

Speaking in broken tones, Marc was moving backwards and forwards as though he were chasing someone invisible.I could do nothing to calm him.The best thing would be to get him out of the house, to take him far away, very far.

‘Who knows, 'he continued, ‘if he hasn't overheard all we've just been saying?We think he's far away.He may be here.There……Behind that door I can hear footsteps……He's there……Come on……Strike him down……Kill him……But is that possible?This monster, has death any hold upon him?’

That was the state my brother had got into!Was I not right in fearing that during one of his crises his reason would give way like Myra's?

Why did Otto Storitz have had to make that curséd discovery?Why did he have to put such a weapon into the hands of a man already too well equipped for evil?

In the town the position was no better.Although no other incident had taken place since Wilhelm Storitz had so to speak shouted, ‘Here I am, 'from the top of the belfry, the whole population was in the grip of fear.Not a house but fancied itself haunted by the invisible.After what had happened in the Cathedral not even the churches offered a hiding-place where anyone could take refuge.The authorities vainly sought to act;they failed, for nothing can prevail against terror.

Here is one fact, among a hundred others, which shows to what a degree of madness the people had been brought.

In the morning of the 12th, I had left the house to visit the Chief of Police.About two hundred yards from the St.Michael Square, I saw Captain Haralan.When I joined him, ‘I'm going to see Monsieur Stepark, 'I told him.‘Will you come with me, Captain?'

Without making any reply he mechanically followed the same direction as myself.We were approaching one of the squares when we heard cries of terror.

A stage-coach drawn by two horses was coming down the street at headlong speed, while the passers-by jumped away to left and right.No doubt the driver had been thrown off, and, left to themselves, the horses had run away.

Well, will it be believed that several passers-by, no less out of control than the team, had got it into their heads that an invisible driver was in charge of the vehicle, and that Wilhelm Storitz was on the box.The frantic cry reached our ears:‘Him……Him……It's him!'

Hardly had I turned round towards Captain Haralan when he had left my side.I saw him rushing to meet the coach, plainly meaning to stop it as it passed by him.

At that hour the street was crowded, and the name of Wilhelm Storitz rose from all around.Stones hurtled round the half-maddened team, and so great was the public excitement that musket-shots rang out from the arsenal on the corner.

One of the horses fell, hit by a bullet in the thigh, and the vehicle, tumbling over the animal's body, collapsed on its side.

At once the crowd rushed up to it and seized upon its wheels, its body, its shafts.A hundred pairs of arms opened to seize Wilhelm Storitz……They grasped nothing but emptiness.

So the invisible driver must have managed to jump down before the coach overturned, for nobody could doubt that he had made another effort to frighten the town.

As was soon made clear, it was nothing of the sort.At once a peasant came up;his horses, left in the marketplace, had run away and great was his anger to see one of them lying on the ground!Nobody would listen to him, and I think the crowd would have maltreated that poor man, whom we had great difficulty in protecting against its blind fury.

I called Captain Haralan away, and he followed me to the Town Hall without saying a word.M.Stepark already knew of what had happened.‘The town has gone mad, 'he told me, ‘and nobody can see what that madness will lead to.'

I asked the usual question, ‘Have you found out anything new?'

‘Yes, 'M.Stepark replied, ‘I've received information that Wilhelm Storitz has been seen in Spremberg.'

‘In Spremberg!'exclaimed Captain Haralan.He turned towards me.‘Let's be off then!You promised me.'

I did not know what to reply, for I felt certain that the journey would be useless.

‘Wait, Captain, 'M.Stepark checked him.‘I've sent to Spremberg to get the news confirmed and I'm expecting a messenger any minute now.'

Half an hour had not elapsed when the orderly handed in a message which had been brought post-haste from Spremberg.The news had no serious basis.Not merely did the presence of Wilhelm Storitz lack confirmation, but it was thought that he could not have left Ragz.

Two days elapsed without producing any change in Myra Roderich's condition.As for my brother, I thought him a little calmer.I was waiting for the opportunity of an interview with the Doctor to discuss the possibility of leaving the town.

The 14th June was not so quiet as its predecessors.The authorities were beginning to feel their impotence to restrain the crowd, now at the height of its excitement.

About eleven, when I was walking along the riverside, these words reached my ears:

‘He's come back……He's come back……'

Who that‘he'might be it was easy to guess, and according to some of the passers-by whom I consulted:

‘Smoke's been seen coming from the chimney of his house, 'said one.

‘His face had been seen behind the belvedere curtains!'declared another.

Whether I was or was not to put any faith it these tales, I made for the Boulevard Tékéli.

And yet, was it likely that Wilhelm Storitz would have shown himself so imprudently?He could not be ignorant of what was waiting for him if anyone should lay hands on him.And yet he would have run that risk, without having to?He had let himself be seen at one of the windows of his house?

True or false, the news had had its effects.When I arrived, several thousand people, whom the cordon of police vainly strove to restrain, were surrounding the house along the Boulevard and the adjacent roads.From all sides were coming hordes of men and women, at the height of over-excitement and shouting for Wilhelm Storitz'death.

What could be the arguments behind that conviction, irrational but ineradicable, that he was there, ‘he!'and maybe with a crowd of invisible accomplices?What could the police do against that countless host who were besieging that accursed house, so close to it that Wilhelm Storitz, if he were there, could never succeed in escaping?What was more, if he had been seen at one of the windows, it was in his material form.Before he contrived to make himself invisible he would be taken, and this time he would not succeed in escaping the popular vengeance.

In spite of the resistance of the cordon, in spite of the efforts of the Chief of Police, the railings were torn down, the house invaded, the doors forced, the windows smashed, the furniture thrown into the garden or the yard, the laboratory apparatus shivered to fragments.Then flames rose from the ground floor, reached the story above, swirled above the roof, and soon the belvedere had collapsed into the furnace below.

As for Wilhelm Storitz, vainly had he been sought in the building, in the garden, in the yard.He was not there, or, at least, it had been impossible to find him.

Now the fire, kindled in ten places, had devoured the house.An hour later there remained only its four walls.

Perhaps on the whole it was better that it had been destroyed.Who knew whether it would not release the tension if the people of Ragz came to believe that Wilhelm Storitz, quite invisible though he might be, had perished in the flames?