wall on the left-hand side of the gateway.

"She? Who?"

"Eh! how should I know?" answered M. d'Albon. "A strange-looking woman
sprang up there under my very eyes just now," he added, in a low
voice; "she looked to me more like a ghost than a living being. She
was so slender, light and shadowy that she might be transparent. Her
face was as white as milk, her hair, her eyes, and her dress were
black. She gave me a glance as she flitted by. I am not easily
frightened, but that cold stony stare of hers froze the blood in my
veins."

"Was she pretty?" inquired Philip.

"I don't know. I saw nothing but those eyes in her head."

"The devil take dinner at Cassan!" exclaimed the Colonel; "let us stay
here. I am as eager as a boy to see the inside of this queer place.
The window-sashes are painted red, do you see? There is a red line
round the panels of the doors and the edges of the shutters. It might
be the devil's own dwelling; perhaps he took it over when the monks
went out. Now, then, let us give chase to the black and white lady;
come along!" cried Philip, with forced gaiety.

He had scarcely finished speaking when the two sportsmen heard a cry
as if some bird had been taken in a snare. They listened. There was a
sound like the murmur of rippling water, as something forced its way
through the bushes; but diligently as they lent their ears, there was
no footfall on the path, the earth kept the secret of the mysterious