Breber, chief of the police of Magdeburg, whilst away from
home on a holiday with his young and beautiful wife, the Countess Hilda,
happened to pass a night in the village of Grautz, in the centre of the
Harz Mountains.

In the course of a conversation with the innkeeper, the Countess
remarked: "On our way here this morning we crossed a brook, and
experienced the greatest difficulty in persuading our dogs to go into
the water. It is most unusual, as they are generally only too ready for
a dip. Can you in any way account for it?"

"Were there two very tall poplars, one on either side of the brook?" the
innkeeper asked; "and did you notice a peculiar--one cannot describe it
as altogether unpleasant--smell there?"

"We did!" the Count and Countess exclaimed in chorus.

"Then it was the spot locally known as Wolf Hollow," the innkeeper said.
"No one ventures there after dark, as it has a very evil reputation."

"Stuff and nonsense!" the Count snapped.

"That is as your honour pleases," the innkeeper said humbly. "We village
folk believe it to be haunted; but, of course, if the subject appears
ridiculous to you, I will take care I do not refer to it again."

"Please do!" the Countess cried. "I love anything to do with the
supernatural. Tell us all about it."

The innkeeper gave a little nervous cough, and glancing uneasily at the
Count, whose face looked more than usually stern in the fading sunlight,
observed: "They do say, madam, that whoever drinks the water of that
stream----"

"Yes, yes?" the Countess cried eagerly.

"Suffers a grave misfortune."

"Of what nature?" the Countess demanded; but before the innkeeper could
answer, the Count cut in:--

"I forbid you to say another word. The Countess has drunk the water
there, and your cock-and-bull stories will frighten her into fits.
Confess it is all made up for the benefit of travellers like ourselves."

"Yes, your honour!" the innkeeper stammered, his knees shaking; "I
confess it is mere talk, but we all be--be--lieve it."

"That will do--go!" the Count cried; and the innkeeper, terrified out of
his wits, flew out of the room.

Some minutes later mine host received a peremptory summons to appear
before the Count, who was alone and scowling horribly, in the best
parlour. He had barely got inside the room before the Count burst out
wrathfully:--

"I've sent for you, sir, in order to impress upon you the fact that if
either you or your minions mention one