s.

He was buried with impressive ceremony, and the monks he had endowed did
everything to carry out their share of the pact. The tomb was staunchly
built with stones so heavy that no ordinary ghost could have emerged
therefrom, but to be doubly sure a gigantic log was placed on top of it,
strongly clamped down with concealed bands of iron, and, so that this
log might not reveal its purpose, the monks cunningly carved it into
some semblance of Henry himself, until it seemed a recumbent statue of
the late villainous Count.

But despite such thoughtfulness their plan failed, for when next they
visited the tomb the statue lay prone, face downwards, as if some
irresistible, unseen power had flung it to the stone flags of the floor.
Replacing the statue, and watching by the tomb, was found to be of
little use. The watchers invariably fell asleep, and the great wooden
figure, which during their last waking moments lay gazing towards the
roof, was now on its face on the monastery floor, peering down in the
opposite direction, and this somehow was regarded by the brethren as a
fact of ominous significance.

The new Count von Sayn, heir to the title and estate of the late Henry
III. was a gloomy, pious man, very different indeed from his turbulent
predecessor. Naturally he was much perturbed by the conduct of the
wooden statue. At first he affected disbelief in the phenomena despite
the assurances of the monks, and later on the simple brethren deeply
regretted they had made any mention of the manifestations. The new Count
himself took up the task of watching, and paced all night before the
tomb of the third Henry. He was not a man to fall asleep while engaged
on such a somber mission, and the outcome of his vigil was so amazing
that in the morning he gathered the brethren together in the great hall
of the Abbey, that he might relate to them his experience.

The wooden statue had turned over, and fallen to the floor, as was its
habit, but on this occasion it groaned as it fell. This mournful sound
struck terror into the heart of the lonely watcher, who now, he
confessed, regretted he had not accepted the offer of the monks to share
his midnight surveillance. The courage of the House of Sayn is, however,
a well-known quality, and, notwithstanding his piety, the new holder of
the title was possessed of it, for although admitting a momentary
impulse towards flight, and the calling for assistance which the monks
would readily hav