, a figure from the lower world, suddenly rose before him. A
clenched fist, he thought, opened and hurled shreds of paper into his
face. When he looked up he could see nothing but the firemen rushing
around him. The shadow, the figure, had pushed its way in among them,
and in the confusion no one had paid any attention to it.

With an absent-minded gesture, Daniel reached out and picked up the
paper that was lying nearest him. It had fallen on the face of the doll.
He unfolded it and saw, written in his own hand, the music to the
"Harzreise im Winter." Under the notes were the words:

But aside, who is it?
His path in the bushes is lost,
Behind him rustle
The thickets together,
The grass rises again,
The desert conceals him.

The melody and rhythm that interpreted the words were of a grandiose
gloominess, like a song of shades pursued in the night, across the sea.
Daniel recalled the hour he had written this music; he recalled the
expression on Gertrude's face the time he played it for her. Eleanore
was there, too, wearing a white dress, with a myrtle wreath in her hair.
The tones dissolved the web of infinite time. "But aside, who is it?"
came forth like a great, deep dirge. In the question there was something
prophetically great. He covered his face and wept; he felt as if his
heart would break.

The dead man and the doll were lying there, motionless, lifeless.

In half an hour the fire was under control. The two attic rooms had been
burned out completely. Further than this no damage had been done.

Philippina had vanished without a trace. Since no one had seen her leave
the house, the first theory was that she had been burned to death. But
investigation proved this assumption to be incorrect. The police looked
for her everywhere, but in vain; she was not to be found. A few people
who had known her rather intimately insisted that she had been burned up
so completely that there was nothing left of her but a little pile of
black ashes.

However this may be, and whatever the truth may be, Philippina never
again entered the house. No one ever again saw or heard a thing of her.

BUT ASIDE, WHO IS IT?

I

Late in the evening Benda came. He had been tolerably well informed of
everything that had taken place. In the hall he met Agnes. Though
generally quite monosyllabic, Agnes was now inclined to be extremely
communicativ