ir way to get himself
burned as a heretic unless he watched his step carefully. "Herr Knupf's
fame has reached my own country, far away," he said with some truth.
"Nevertheless, a family which--"

"Wait," she said. "You have said that you will pay well. Yet you do not
appear rich."

Jonas understood. Fishing in his sewn pocket, he withdrew a single,
shiny coin. "I also wish," he said smoothly, "to pay for any help I may
receive--such as the answering of an innocent question, a question in
which the respected Inquisitor Knupf can have no interest whatever."

The old woman's eyes went to the coin and stayed there. "Well," she
said. "It is said that the family called Scharpe has a house too large
for them, now that the elder son is gone; there is only the man, his
wife and a daughter. It is said that the man is in need of money; he
would accept payment, were it generous, in return for sharing room in
his house."

"I would be most grateful," Jonas murmured. He passed the coin over; the
old woman's hand snatched it and closed on it. "Where might I find this
family?" he said.

"It is now late in the afternoon," the old woman said. "Perhaps they are
at home. You will see a path which takes you to the left; follow it
until you reach the last house. Knock at the door."

"I shall," Jonas said, "and many thanks."

The old woman, still clutching her coin, disappeared from the window as
if someone had yanked her back. Jonas turned with relief and got back on
the path, but it stank quite as badly as the house had.

He endured the stench--heroically.

* * * * *

Scharpe proved to be a barrel-shaped man who was unaccountably
cheerless, as if the inside structure had been carefully removed, and
then replaced by sawdust, Jonas thought. Even the offer of seven kroner
for a single week's stay failed to produce the delirious joy Jonas had
expected.

"The money is needed," Scharpe said in a dour, bass voice, staring off
past Jonas' left ear at the darkening sky. "And for the money, you will
be welcome. I must take your word that you are not dangerous; I can only
pray that you do not betray that trust."

It was far from a warm welcome, but Jonas was satisfied with it. "I
shall work to do you good," he said, "and not evil."

"Stranger," Scharpe said, "work for your own good; do nothing for me.
This is an accursed family; there is no good to be done to me, or my
wife or child."

Jonas tried to l