Does anyone remember the old folk tale about fate? A man yearns to know the date of his death, and finally his wish is granted. But as the date drew near, the man began to dread his fate, and decided to outwit death. He changed his name. He sold his business. He disguised himself. He journeyed for many weeks, and at last came to the gates of the city of Samarra. As he approached - on the appointed day of his fate - he felt secure. He knew he had outwitted fate. But as he passed beneath the gate, an old man stepped out of the shadows and touched his arm.

"I believe, my good sir, that we have an appointment."

Each time I read of a tragedy like that which befell the Ganthalers, I think about that old folk tale, and it sends a chill down my spine. Yes, it DOES make one think that someone keeps an account book somewhere.