Fjallkonan #50 | 15 December 1900

I EMBARKED ON A NEW EXPEDITION YESTERDAY. LAST NIGHT when the Count told me that he would have to be away from home again all day, he asked me to sort a number of documents and books he wanted to take with him to London, and to make a directory of all these items. Upon entering the library I found that a large box had been left there for me, and the books that I had to sort and register lay on the couch. Even after everything I’d seen, it seemed very strange to me, because who would imagine Satan with a suitcase and a railway ticket in hand? Seeing the Count’s travel things, however, I can’t help but to envision such a scene.²⁶⁵ These Tatars (also called Gypsies)²⁶⁶ who have spent the last few days here are helping the Count prepare for his departure. I’ve seen them come and go with the boxes the Slovaks brought here; they seem very heavy to handle. The number of empty boxes is gradually decreasing, as the Count has engaged three or four men of truly gigantic stature, whom I remember having seen in the vault on that memorable evening. They are strong as trolls²⁶⁷ and handle huge loads as if they are light as feathers.

Today, nobody was in the courtyard and none of the boxes had been moved.

There was absolute stillness in the castle now. I lit a cigar and walked out of the dining room, intending to stroll along the floor for a moment before I started dealing with the Count’s documents and books. The old woman had cleared the table long ago, disappearing as quietly as she always did, and I knew from experience that she wouldn’t return for several hours. It occurred to me that I would never have a better opportunity to study the secret stairs and find out whether or not it would be possible to discover a way out.

I thought no more of it and began readying myself to go, for had I started to recall the memories of what I’d witnessed down there, I would never have had the courage to go back again.

I checked whether my revolver was loaded, stepped into the octagonal room, and pressed the button—the door opened suddenly and silently. Then I lit my lamp and cautiously went down the stairs. It wasn’t as dark now as it had been that night, because this time a dull light shone through two windows.

I paused while going down the stairs, not sure where to go. I had reached some sort of arched vestibule with tunnels leading to both sides, east and west. I decided to take the tunnel to the west, as it lies in the direction of the window I hoped to climb through to get onto the wall ridge.

At the end of the tunnel a closed door appeared before me; I opened it hesitantly …

I practically yelped with joy, for I saw that I’d now come to the staircase I’d scaled during my long journey through the castle, when I’d climbed from the chapel up to the Count’s room—and in this staircase was the window I was hoping to get out from, should I try to escape.

Warily, I walked up the stairs to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. I saw the sun shining through the window and felt a clean, refreshing breeze on my cheek. I saw that the ridge on the wall was broad enough to walk on, although from a distance it seemed to be very narrow. But one need only to be startled or skid a bit on the stone—and death would be inevitable. I shuddered at the thought of having to go this way, but I felt as though a weight had been lifted from me now that I’d discovered a possible escape route. As a safety measure, I took the key from the lock and put it in my pocket. The door was so heavy and its hinges so rusty that it stayed in place even when unlocked; and those who pass through it—whoever they may be—may not notice that the key is missing.

Then it occurred to me that I might look around the chapel and the crypt below for a while.

Everything looked the same as before, except that the floor had been dug up and everything was scattered around. Iron picks, shovels and rakes were still lying about, revealing a job that had been left unfinished.

It seemed to me that the Tatar group had been at work here.

Deep in the dungeon, where it faced the courtyard,²⁶⁸ I saw two or three boxes reinforced with iron. On two of them the lids had been fastened, but one was left half open.

I became curious, so I climbed over the unearthed stones and dirt heaps, noticing that this cellar was in fact a graveyard—and not a very old one, as a human skull, barely decayed, happened to roll before my feet.

Each of the boxes was made of thick pine planks and had rope handles. The third box had been manufactured with the most care; it also had a few holes drilled into the lid. I expected to find some costly items in it; I remembered well the treasure up in the tower, so I assumed these boxes were also filled with such gold and shiny jewels.

I was shocked when I looked under the lid! The box was filled halfway with soil, and in it, a man was lying lengthwise—an old man with white hair and a white moustache. It was none other than the Count himself.