The driver turned to us and said to our coachman "You are early tonight, my friend."

Our coachman seemed rather frightened and replied quickly, "The English Gentleman was in a hurry."

The driver said, "I suppose that is why you wanted him to go on to Bukovina instead of coming with me. You cannot lie to me, my friend. I know too much, and my horses are fast."

As the driver spoke he smiled. In the light of the lamps I saw that he had a hard-looking mouth, very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, which were as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered a line from Burger's poem "Lenore".

"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver heard the words and looked up with a smile. The passenger turned his face away. At the same time he made the sign of the cross. "Give me the Herr's luggage," said the driver. My bags were passed to him very quickly and put into his carriage. Then I got down from the coach, into the carriage which was right next to us. The driver gave me a hand, taking my arm in a grip of steel. He seemed to be enormously strong.