Napoleon pondered that statement for the next few minutes, and followed without thinking too much about Zoltan's bobbing light ahead of him, flickering as it was shadowed and obscured by the moving black silhouettes of Hilda and Illya. His own light illuminated the floor about his own feet and Illya's, and his attention was focused on that when he almost bumped into his partner.

He looked up, startled. Illya had stopped and was looking around. They were alone.

"Which way did they go?" Illya asked.

"I thought you were following Hilda," Napoleon said doubtfully.

Illya cleared his throat embarrassedly. "Well, I was. But I let my attention wonder, and when I looked up...she wasn't there. I'm afraid they were about fifteen feet ahead of us when I looked last—they must have turned into a side passage."

"Well, they can't be very far away." Napoleon raised his voice a little. "Hilda," he called softly. "Hilda?"

"Not so loud," Illya cautioned. "Remember, there may be someone asleep upstairs."

"I wouldn't mind that," Napoleon said drily. "I'm only worried about someone being awake."

He cupped his hands and called again, "Hilda! Zoltan!" in a penetrating stage whisper. There was no answer.

He shrugged. "What do we do now? Do you remember the last three turns we took?"

"We could wait here and hope to be found; it's more sensible than wandering about and getting ourselves even more lost."

Napoleon considered this. "Somehow," he admitted, "I don't feel quite as sensible as I did a few hours ago. I think we should cast about—carefully, of course—and look for Zoltan's chalk marks. When we find them, we can follow right along to wherever they are, and we won't be lost any more."

"Unless they are lost too."

Napoleon looked at him. "Optimist. Maybe your vampire got them."

Illya looked at him. "Under the circumstances," he said, "that's not especially funny."

"Sorry. Come on—let's get going. They couldn't have left us too far back. Let's start looking for likely places."

They started backtracking slowly, both lights scanning the walls for chalk marks. There were none. But eventually a passage opened off to their right—a wide stone-walled passage, which looked tall enough to stand up in.

They paused, and shot their lights around it. "Looks reasonable," said Napoleon. "They couldn't have left us much before here, and I don't see anything else that looks at all likely."

Illya nodded. "Let's give it a try. After all, we can't be any more lost than we are already."

"Oh, yes we can," said Napoleon cheerfully.

Illya considered the implications of the remark and scowled. "I've told you, Napoleon, that's not funny." He paused. "Perhaps it is. Try it on me again when we are out of here and my sense of humor has recovered somewhat."

They started off down the hall, rock ceiling arching overhead, rock floor underfoot, spots of light sweeping back and forth ahead of them, and darkness pressing close behind.

Chapter 10: "The Coffin Is Empty."

Their footsteps echoed weirdly around them as they moved through the silent tunnels. At first Napoleon called Hilda's name, or Zoltan's, but each time his voice awoke whispering echoes that went muttering off into the distance. Finally he just watched for reasonable places to turn, and turned there, checking each time for chalk marks.

At last there was one. It was a neat blue chalk "X" just below eye-level, and just above a short arrow pointing to the left. Napoleon heaved a sigh of relief. "There we are," he said to his partner. "They must have come this way. Now we can hurry along and catch them."

"I hope so," said Illya. "This place is beginning to get on my nerves."

There were no marks at the next three intersections, but the fourth had another "X" and an arrow pointing to the right. They took the turn unhesitatingly. There were no intersections and no marks for several minutes, and the tunnel rose higher. Then it turned left and right as it climbed until Napoleon began to get dizzy.

Finally he paused. "I thought of bringing a compass when we left the inn," he said. "But then I said to myself, 'No, we'll have a trustworthy native guide.' And I didn't bring it."

"Next time you'll know better," said Illya.

"Probably not," said Napoleon. "I'm just too trusting, I guess."

They continued climbing. At last a passage opened to their left, and a few feet farther another opened to their right. Neither one had any mark on it. The passage climbed higher. After a while another pair of passages opened, and the right-hand one had an arrow chalked on its wall pointing into their passage. It was in white chalk.

Illya looked at it, and then said softly, "Napoleon..."

"What?"

"We've been following blue chalk marks."

"So?"

"I think...I'm not positive, but I think Hilda gave Zoltan a stick of white chalk."

"Do you think we found them now?"

"I don't know. Apparently these tunnels have been used by other people at other times, and some of them also used chalk. I think it was dreadfully inconsiderate of them not to have washed the walls down after they finished with them."

"So we may have been following some long-dead resident who liked to sneak down to the village without his wife finding out," said Napoleon with a shrug. "Since the tunnel's heading up, we're more likely to come out in the castle than out on a hillside; and as I recall, the original purpose of this expedition was to get inside the castle."

Illya nodded reluctantly, and lifted his light. "Further up and further in, then," he said resignedly.

"Further up and further in," Napoleon agreed.

* * *

There were no more chalk marks on the walls for a goodly distance. Then another white arrow turned them into a side path which ran along level for a ways and then turned down again.

Napoleon stood at the top of the incline and looked down. Illya stopped behind him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, really," said his partner. "Just that I've put so much energy into climbing this far, I hate to waste it by climbing down again."

"All right," said Illya. "You wait here, and if I ever get out, I'll send a rescue party for you."

"Never mind, never mind. It was just a thought."

They started down the steeply slanting tunnel, feet skidding slightly on the uneven floor. The tunnel leveled off then, and both of them stopped together, shining their lights ahead.

The floor of the tunnel rose sharply, but the ceiling didn't rise away from it. There was a mound of rubble which completely filled the tunnel—rubble impossible to date, other than by the fact that there was no dust in the air. It could have been there six hours, or two hundred years.

"I hope he made it back from the village before that happened," said Napoleon.

"Well," said Illya, "at least we know the white chalk isn't Zoltan's."

"Unless there's another passage we've overlooked."

"Wishful thinking. Come on, back up to the main tunnel."

* * *

The main tunnel continued to rise, wider now and with a paved floor. In the yellow light from their electric lanterns they could see smoke stains on the ceiling, and even occasional brackets that looked as if they had once held torches.